Anger is deadly. And like acid n a plastic jug, it destroys its container first.

(Dan Boone in Seven Deadly Sins by Beacon Hill Press of Kansas City)

AN INSIDIOUS JOURNEY
 

When I look across the street at the empty two-story home, I can only feel pity. A lonely man, caught up in his addiction, is asleep on his couch; never made it upstairs to his queen-sized bed. Alone. The children are not there. The wife is gone. Alcohol is his only real friend and his one, true enemy. Can’t he see his addiction is killing him?

Asleep in my bed with my spouse by my side, the children in their beds, I too am alone. My mind is tormented by what I’ve done; what I will do tomorrow or the next day what I’ve been doing for years. I’m never afforded the luxury of blacking out or not remembering.

Sure, I’m a master at hiding it but that doesn’t mean I can hide from myself. The memories are searing my emotions; cooking my brain like hot coals on a barbeque or campfire. Every desire and hope and care I once felt is gone. How could I let something like this control me, encompass my every thought. Destroy me.

The man across the street can be seen. He doesn’t care how many beers he consumes or who sees him. He doesn’t care if the neighbors hear him treating his family poorly. We all hear bits and pieces of the sad tale. He lets it all hang out when indulging in his addiction. I, on the other hand, become invisible.

After indulging in my addiction, there is no pungent odor; no slurred speech, no dilated pupils. No one looks at me and depicts how pathetic I am. If my cell phone rings, I answer it; force my voice to sound normal. Add a little pep to it. “Hi. What’s going on?” Sound normal. “What am I doing?” Just seconds earlier, I was choking on my own despair. Now, I’m capable of rattling off two or three things that are maybe half truth. Maybe just something I wanted to do, but never got to it because my addiction always gets priority. Lie, lie, lie.

Sure, maybe I didn’t brush my teeth that day or comb my hair, or completely dress in clothing appropriate for the day, but give me five or ten minutes and all is remedied. But when I look in the mirror, I see ugly. Looks like you took an “ugly pill”, as my friend puts it. Well, sure. You’d look ugly too if you just spent endless hours throwing your money away, smoking like a fiend, no sunlight, no food, no exercise, no happiness. No peace. Frantic, desperate, surrounded by people, but all alone. Hiding.

Four short months ago that was me. That summed u op my existence. Four short months ago I confessed what I’d done to the one person I dreaded telling the most; the one person I had hidden from, my spouse.

There came a point in time when I feared what gambling was dong to me more than the fear of confessing my sins. I saw the rapid deterioration of my life once more. It happened so fast. My relapse (again) was more like a landslide. All my recovery with GA and counseling and family wasn’t cutting it. I was still hiding my secret. I was still cowering from the truth. When I gamble, I have NO CONTROL.

Confession was painful. Confessing was humiliating. Confession lifted a weight off me that I have been dragging around with me everywhere I went. Even in my sleep. Today, I am clean and sober from gambling over four months. Thank God.

Lisa, NC

 . . I won, I lost, I broke even . . .

 

Dear Marilyn,

Thanks for your reply. I have been lazy in logging onto your website, but will get into the swing of things now. You know, we all had a life before the Casinos got into our mind. We survived, we found other things to do, and we had a few extra bucks. Then the Indians got smart, and said they would get it all back from us, and you know, they were right. We suckered right into their territory and thought it would be fun. WELL, it was fun, at the beginning, and we excused ourselves when we lost, we had a million excuses. Then we got roped, so to speak. We wanted our money back. We wanted a place of refuge, a place to go where we could forget all our problems, have a drink or two, and gamble, and gamble until 2, 3, and 4 in the morning. Whoa.......something is wrong. Then this gambling addiction took over, and it became a way of life.

Oh, I won, I lost, I broke even, once I even won $5,000. But I am sure it didn't make up for what I lost. What a sucker I was. But no more. It isn't enjoyable anymore. It hurts to lose $80.00 the other day, and my cell phone. I am unemployed, can't find a job, retired, and thinking down the road at this point in my life. I cannot afford this condo, my retirement funds will run out. I will probably downsize locally, and spend some time during the summer up in Vermont country. I will admit, I spent some of my retirement money indirectly during my addiction. What nonsense....... We finally wake up, don't we? Well, that's all for now. You can put this in your newsletter, if you would like.
 

Have a very blessed, blessed Holiday.

Catherine, Connecticut
 

TIME FOR REFLECTION AND GRATITUDE

By Bobbe McGinley, Clinical Director/Ceo of ACT -- Counseling & Education

Here we are at the end of the year—a perfect time to slow down and reflect on the past year or months in our recovery commitment. We are beginning a new phase of life, and insight will provide an opportunity to recognize how recovery holds promise and gratitude. It is also the perfect time of reflection which may be used to develop new traditions and an opportunity to move forward, with our needs and best interest at heart.

A New Lifestyle: In very early recovery whether it be from gambling, alcohol, or drugs we may be more vulnerable to holidays that often bring forth memories, pleasant and otherwise. We have just celebrated one traditional holiday in November and December brings forward other memories and traditions. We do not want to go backwards by giving up the solid footing we may have achieved in our new lifestyle of recovery.

Keep What Works: In recovery, we also look back and can qualify what our holidays have been to us in the past, and what they might be in the present.

Are there family traditions you continue to honor that bring happiness or contentment? Take a look at the new traditions you have already implemented and then look at what else you would like to add to your current traditions which will be part of your future path in honoring them. In your memories do you feel you have more stress now than you had in the past? Is this due to the fact you are now dealing with your stress in a more adult, mature manner without the past self-defeating behavior? A new behavior may be to develop a list of gratitude, which is often suggested in 12-Step meetings.

If you are in a 12-step program, this may also be an excellent opportunity to complete or renew your 10th Step Inventory. “Continue to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.”

Make a resolution to do this on a daily basis. Look at all the areas of your life. High-lighted are some definitions that will be of assistance as you inventory each specific area.

►Feelings—How did you feel today? Happy, sad, glad, grateful, scared, resentful, angry, accepting, or joyous? Did you have a myriad of feelings? Write about them.
►Relationships—What did you do or not do today to make your relationship better? Did you set the boundaries that were needed? Do you need to develop new relationships and are they healthy?
►Communications—This one is important to remember, communications is 7% words, 55% non-verbal and 38% tone. Communication is telling the truth, sharing feelings, and listening.
►Work—Are you working too much or too little? Are y ou in a job that is conducive to your recovery? If not, is it about the job or you? Are you wetting limits or do you have expectations that your co-workers should understand? Your recovery is your responsibility, no matter what the environment.
►Eating—Are you eating balanced meals? If not, why not? Eat to live, don’t live to eat.
►Exercise—This does not mean you need to join a gym or get a personal trainer. Set realistic goals for yourself.
►Rest—Not only when you sleep. Take five or ten minutes to regroup.
►Recreation—“Re-create” yourself daily. Recreation is something you do just for fun.
►Attitude—Your attitude is how you choose to react to what happens. You can’t choose what happens, but you do have a choice in how you respond.
►Focus—Keep your attention on what needs to be done in the moment. Good focus does not happen if you are hurried, stressed, exhausted, afraid, and resentful.
►Personal Growth—Take an action to improve your life by doing things that enable you to reach your full potential. Personal growth can be a way to work through emotional pain, to become more honest, patient, tolerant, kind, loving and to build self-esteem and confidence.
►Spirituality—Spirituality is where you get your faith and hope. It is y our belief system. It helps you deal with the challenges of life. It is “Good orderly direction.”
 

*  Gambling Awareness Invite

In honor of National Problem Gambling Awareness Week, Bobbe McGinley, Clinical Director of ACT-Counseling & Education, welcomes Larissa T. Pixler from the Arizona Department of Gaming for a presentation about the statewide Self Exclusion Program. Ms. Pixler will be available to answer individual questions and process Self Exclusion forms.

Snacks will be served. Call the site nearest you for reservation. Services offered from 10:00 a.m -2:00 p.m. on:

 

Tuesday March 3                                                   Wednesday, March 4                                           Thursday, March 5

5010 E. Shea Blvd., Ste. D-202, Phoenix                  4480 W. Peoria Ave., Ste. 203, Glendale               460 N. Mesa Dr., Ste   

602-569-4328                                                          623-931-2350                                                       623-931-2350                                    

 

Bobbe McGinley is a nationally known speaker, presenter and trainer, consulting many different industries about problem gambling. She has been published and currently travels the country assessing treatment programs and writing gambling treatment components. For more information visit www.actcounseling.com.

Whitehaven Gardens   (A seven-part serialized novel – Part III)  

                                        By Tim Falkiner ©

Chapter 3

The next step of the plan, worked out over lunch, was obvious. I would catch the earlier bus to the Lennox Road intersection, get out and wait on the south side of the intersection in the car park outside the hotel to see where Mum went. We figured she would either meet the man in the car park, go into the hotel to meet him, walk to some other place or catch another bus. I hoped it wasn’t another bus; I’d had enough of buses.
I wondered what he would be like. What did I want him to be like? Like Dad? Yes, but no, no it was too soon. I didn’t know what I wanted. Someone like Leonardo DiCaprio or Josh Hartnett? Some really cute guy who would make Mum, and us, happy again? Or maybe he would be married with a wife and children. Was that it? Was Mum carrying on with a married man? That would explain the secrecy and why she was so unhappy.
~~~
That afternoon I waited in the car park, at the far end, away from the intersection. I saw a small figure get off the bus and cross the road. It was Mum. Walking faster, she walked straight up into the hotel. Up until that moment I hadn’t known what I would do. I’d worn Lucy’s coat with the hood up and I was more than 50 metres away from Mum as she walked through the doors. There was no chance of her recognizing me.I was, though, fed up with the waiting, the uncertainty, the unhappiness. Things had to be faced.

Rather surprised at myself, I walked into the hotel feeling very young and conspicuous. It was hot and I took off Lucy’s coat and draped it over my school bag. There were one or two other children with their parents and the staff members were busy so nobody noticed I was alone. Or, if they did, I suppose they thought I was looking for someone. Which I was. One by one I checked out the rooms; they were too grand to be called ‘bars’.
There was one last room. The sign on the door stated, ‘Gaming Room’ and a smaller sign stated, ‘Stop – persons under 18 not to enter’. The door swung open and I saw rows of machines with brightly coloured panels and flashing and swirling lights. People were sitting in front of the machines on chairs. The door swung closed.

I went through the rooms again wondering whether Mum might have been in the rest room. I looked at men sitting by themselves wondering if one was my Mum’s boyfriend – boyfriend, man friend? I went back to the room marked ‘Gaming Room’ and pushed the swing door open, looking round to see if Mum was there with anyone. ‘Can I help you?’ A dark-suited man had walked over from behind a counter. ‘No. No,’ I blurted out, turning a bright crimson, ‘I’m looking for my mother. I think she’s outside.’ I turned and walked quickly out, not daring to look back. The cold air hit me and I began to shiver. Still walking, I slipped into Lucy’s coat and crossed the road to the bus stop. I was crying, not sobbing, just tears, tears of bewilderment and frustration.

Chapter 4 – Discovery
‘Are you sure you looked everywhere?’ That was Edith.
‘As far as I know,’ I replied wearily.
‘You will have to go back.’ That was Edith again. I’d expected Edith to say that.
It had been a long weekend. Mum did the shopping on Saturday morning and disappeared for the afternoon and evening, returning around midnight. She left again on Sunday morning. Polly and I cooked the meals, though there really wasn’t that much to cook with. We mainly lived on toast and spreads, though Buddy loved those. ‘Do you think she might have a job in the kitchen?’ asked Lucy who always tried to look on the bright side of things. I brightened momentarily, then grew puzzled. ‘But why not tell us? And why does she keep flying off the handle?’ ‘She could be tired. She must get very tired, working at the bank and working a second job. And she may not want you to worry.’
‘Poor Mum,’ I murmured.
~~~
‘She doesn’t work there!’ exclaimed Edith.
Edith had arrived late at lunchtime . She had rung the hotel and asked to speak to Ann Rose who worked there. The telephonist was most helpful. She didn’t know of any Ann Rose but would check. After a short delay the telephonist advised the hotel had no one working there by that name and perhaps she worked at another hotel in the area. ‘Perhaps she uses another name because she works at the bank,’ suggested Lucy. There was silence for about a minute while we considered this.

Why don’t I ask my Mum if I can stay at your place tomorrow night?’ suggested Edith, ‘Then we can both go and find out what’s going on!’
‘Won’t she mind if Mum’s not home ‘till late?” I asked. Edith shrugged. ‘Well, I just won’t tell her. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, you’re there by yourselves each night. And, we simply must find out what’s happening.’ She had a point. But I hoped she wouldn’t get into trouble on my account.
~~~
It didn’t happen that way. Edith had an assignment to hand in and, though she is the sort of swot who can do her homework on the tram if necessary, her parents, always reluctant to allow her to stay away on school nights, had other ideas. Accordingly, it was Lucy and I who stood in the car park of Whitehaven Gardens on Tuesday night. We watched the small figure, head down against the rain, make her nightly pilgrimage from the bus stop to the hotel.
As I said about Lucy, she is normally as quiet as a lamb. But Lucy, when she is protecting someone, is quite another person. As Mum was going through the hotel doors, Lucy grasped my arm and dragged me across the car park. Marching me into the hotel she went from door to door sticking her head into every room. There was no sight of Mum. Where could she have gone? We’d only been twenty seconds behind her. I said perhaps she’d gone to the rest room and we went in, but she wasn’t there. Once again we stood outside the doors marked ‘Gaming Room’ with the sign ‘Stop – persons under 18 not to enter’. Lucy barged in and I, not wanting to be left on my own, followed. The room felt hot, stuffy and crowded. Lights were flashing. I’d no chance to look around. I was too busy scurrying after Lucy who was doing a quick circuit of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, to the right, I saw the man in the dark suit look up and begin to raise his arm but then he was out of sight behind a bank of machines, black, with brightly glowing panels. Down one aisle, black, glowing, beeping machines hemming us in on either side and up another aisle. I crashed into Lucy’s back, almost knocking her over. Lucy had stopped. She was standing, looking at Mum.
Lucy was no more than an arm’s length from her, but Mum didn’t turn. She sat before a bright blue machine, gazing down intently at its TV screen. Reels on the TV screen spun and stopped, then they spun again and, again, stopped. I looked to see if a man was with her but the seat on her right was empty and an elderly lady sat on the other side of her. Mum was quite alone.

But we were not. The ‘suit’ was standing beside us, demanding what we were doing there.
I didn’t reply but went up to Mum and tugged on her arm. She gave a start and looked up. Her eyes widened in recognition and surprise. ‘What are you doing here, darling?’ she asked.
‘What are you doing here Mum?’ I asked.
‘Are these your children?’ enquired the suit. The man in the suit, who was young, with close-cropped hair, addressed Mum. ‘Are these your children?’ And, without waiting for a reply, added, ‘They can’t stay here.’ He went to put his hand on my shoulder but, seeing the shocked look on my face, drew it back. Turning again to Mum, he stated firmly, ‘You’ll have to take them out, they can’t stay here.’
‘What are you doing here Mum?’ I pleaded. Mum answered it was all right. We were to go home and she would be home soon.
‘Why can’t you come home now,’ I asked puzzled, looking around to see if some man was nearby. ‘Why do you come here each night?’
The suit pushed between us and put his face close to Mum’s, ‘Madam, the children can’t stay here. They will have to leave! Now! You will have to take them out.’ Mum looked at the machine, concerned. The suit seemed to understand and went to the end of the line of machines, coming back with a brightly coloured piece of cardboard which he fitted over the TV screen. He started to shoo us towards the door.  Near the door, Mum turned on me angrily. She asked what was I doing there and how had I got there.
Lucy spoke for me. ‘Mrs. Rose, Judith has been very worried about you. We followed you here to see …’ Mum started to grow angry. She opened her mouth to speak … ‘Please madam, the children will have to leave,’ broke in the suit who wanted to keep us moving. ‘Or,’ he added, a hard edge to his voice, ‘we shall have to call the police!’

Mum, looked alarmed. She walked quickly through the doors and we followed. Mum spoke angrily to us. We shouldn’t have gone there. Everything was all right. We were to go home and look after the others. She would be home soon. We were dismissed. That is the only word for it. Dismissed. Mum turned on her heel and walked back through the doors which swung shut behind her.
I looked at the sign – ‘Stop, persons under 18 not to enter’.
Mum was in there. My mother was in there. Why would she do this to me? Why? What was happening?
I don’t know how long I would have stood there but Lucy put her arm around my shoulders. She walked me down the wide corridor, out the front doors and into the car park. Again I cried but this time I howled and howled. I don’t remember much about the trip home.
I cleaned myself up as best I could before we got back to the house. Lucy did the dirty work. ‘We couldn’t find her, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon,’ she said smoothly. Polly looked from her to me and paled a little but asked nothing. She put her arm around Buddy and took him back to watch TV. Living with Mum, we were learning not to ask questions.
 

(The novel contains fourteen chapters and it will be serialized over seven months with two chapters being published each month.)

Gripped by Gambling.  

I have a new website  www.grippedbygambling.com with information about my book. The site contains an autobiography with some photos of special times in my life. The book may be ordered from Amazon.com, and on-line books stores or directly from the publisher, Wheatmark.com/bookstore or call 1-888-934-0888 x3,  It may be ordered by the title, author or Isbn # 978-1-58736-770-0. Gifts Anon stores in Phoenix and Scottsdale are stocking the book.

Marilyn Lancelot , AZ    mslancelot@cox.net  

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