My Addiction Is Just Fixation

This story is true, based on life and facts. It gives an insight into life with a gambling addiction. This story shows the shift in my life, where I realised that writing was my coping mechanism and used it to overcome my struggles.

2015- Things seemed okay. Even though I suffered from depression, anxiety, PTSD and trichotillomania, everything seemed fine. There were no signs I was becoming addicted or losing control. Not long ago, I had moved into a new house. I had five kids. In 2015, one was 9 years old, the twins were four; the second youngest, three and the youngest, one. I had lived alone since I was about eighteen. I had, for years lived away from my family, hardly ever seeing anyone. This was back in 2006–2010. In 2011, I moved to a new house which was closer to some of my relatives. Even though I didn’t see them much, I was still close by. I stayed close by for the next few years.

I felt isolated having five kids. At one point, I had three-year-old twins, a two-year-old and a new-born. So, going out was hard. I struggled from some time to get basic stuff. I did ask for help, but I was often told by people that they were too busy. I got used to being just me, to me being alone and having to manage everything. When it snowed, I had to figure out how to go out with a newborn and my young kids. I felt fine; for years everything was fine. I was isolated but I had a schedule and had things sorted out, so I had time to myself, time to enjoy myself and do something I liked while at home. Every now and then I would play bingo -like once every few months-.

That was my life. I spent a good ninety percent of 2006 onwards alone. I would maybe get a call once every few months by someone in the family to see how I was doing, but typically, I had no connection to people for years. It became my comfort. Sometimes, as mentioned, I would go out and play bingo, but that was it. For weeks and, sometimes even months, I would hardly see or speak to people. My life was my kids and me.

People often say they are alone in life, that they don’t see other people, and that their lives are online. Mine very much was talking with people online, which I had no connection with, more than with anyone I knew in the real world. Mums became my online friends as well as my comfort and my way through everything. While I felt lonely, I didn’t feel too bad. I didn’t feel too depressed and stuff — anxiety, depression, all that was nothing new to me. I had suffered for years, and it never seemed to be bad; it never reached a point where I didn’t want to get up in the morning. In 2017, everything changed; on January the 20th, 2017, everything changed.

It was a new year, and I had no idea of just how bad things were going to get. You never think it will be you, but that is a foolish move. I thought I was doing fine; I thought my mind was coping with life and that I was living a wonderful life. I was foolish and under a darkness that had me submerged so far down I couldn’t see the light anymore. There was no light, day or night; there was no light. My kids no longer brought light into my life but, there was one thing that did, although I now know that it didn’t really bring light to my life; my addiction didn’t bring light. It put everything in darkness, but I felt like my addiction was giving me light.

I didn’t believe it, I guess it is one of those things that when looking back, you think: “how did I not realise sooner?” Sure, I knew it deep down, but I was submerged so far down in the quicksand that my mind didn’t want to be pulled out. Reality had no place in my mind. The reality was that if I admitted and accepted it, I would fall and quick. I would drown beneath everything I had kept hidden in that quicksand. Pulling that rope seemed hard, and for some time, I ignored it. I watched as it dangled in the quicksand waiting for me to grab it and climb out the darkness. The devil was there, laughing and clapping at his success in my downfall; at his success in scaring me into hiding from reality and me not wanting to accept that it was all true.

I guess that, when it came to that day, I realised. I realised I was not just pulling myself down the plughole but my kids as well. I realised that, while I may not have had an addiction that caused me to pass out intoxicated, it made me unstable; it made my mind be away from life and unfocused; time just passed by. Before it started, I was different, I was still a mess but not as bad. I guess you could say I was doing great. I had my own business, yet there was always a darkness that was induced by my mental health. A darkness I continued to ignore and to tell myself it wasn’t real. I guess me trying to hide from the darkness and not wanting to accept help for my mental health are what pushed me to the point I was at in 2017.

The point where I felt like hiding in a dark hole, crying and never climbing out again. I had just pulled on that rope and climbed out of the quicksand that had kept me captive for over a year. In doing that, I found myself plagued with everything. Everything I had before using the quicksand to hide was set free, and every single one of my demons was right back at my door, worse than before with a vengeance and with even more enemies disguised as friends.

It is a modern world, and too many people still suffer from this. Advertisements target us far more than anyone else. Why? They know we are susceptible to joining, they know we want some connection to the outside world. They know we’re at home all day with the kids, they know our lives are those four walls, the same four damn walls we only ever see! They see us and know we are the easy target, but it never used to be us! At one point in history, we would never dream of doing it, but now? Now, it seems modern and cool, as well as a way to have fun. Just how much fun, though? I guess I should explain it now as you’re probably wondering what my addiction is. Who are these people the adverts target? And why wouldn’t we have dreamed of even doing it years ago?

You see, on January the 20th, I woke up from that daze. I pulled myself out of the quicksand and quickly plunged into a bucket of cold reality that smacked me straight in the face screaming “You have an addiction”. My addiction? Many say it is just a fixation, that I just got carried away, or that I just need a hobby different from gambling… Yes, I was told that, and by no other than a doctor! So, there it is, my addiction was gambling. How bad can a gambling addiction be? You may say. Let me guess, the fact that I don’t inject myself with drugs or pour harmful chemicals down my throat makes you believe my addiction doesn’t have the same effect? Wrong! It does. Before I tell you about what happened next, I will explain what happened the year before, the year where I lost over £30,000, the year that seemed to tear me apart, make me lose everything but also, in the end, shake me, wake me up and make me see the reality of everything.

I had played bingo, I had bought scratch cards for years, I had even played online for years. I always had control. I never spent more than I could afford. I never thought of gambling as something that would lead to an addiction. I had just seen it like everyone else: fun and a way to pass the time. Looking back, I guess there were signs. I guess now I know I have a gambling addiction. There were signs that I was one of those who may fall into that trap for years. There were signs, but it still stayed as nothing more than fun for years. I guess playing bingo was a sign. I played it and had fun, but I didn’t have full control. I look back now and realise I would keep playing the mini side-line games; there I had a need to do it, a feeling of urgency. It wasn’t so bad though, as I wouldn’t go back every night and day to play. I could go weeks without gambling.

2016 was a year in which I guess I felt worthless, I felt like I was useless and no good. I felt like I could do nothing right. I was in a place where, looking back now, I felt weak and thought I was better off dead in some ways. Even though I had never considered suicide, I felt like I would have been better off dead. I remember thinking that I hated my life. I loved my kids, I loved being a mum, but I hated my life. I couldn’t relax, I couldn’t breathe, and I guess all the words that were meant as jokes were hurtful too.

Everything got to me. Someone called me “a pig” and it sunk in to the point it clung to my soul. In 2016, I felt useless and worthless. I had tried everything, and nothing seemed to be good enough for anyone in my life. Every attempt I made to build relationships or to see people were fake and failed. I felt isolated and alone, even if there was someone there. The truth was though that in 2016 I was alone. I don’t think any family actually visited me that year. Honestly, I can hardly remember a time when I had a visit from my relatives or friends like most families do. So, I found myself alone a lot.