Recently, someone suggested that my passion for writing had become a substitute for my gambling addiction. Rather than implying that my writing was a positive outlet, it seemed to suggest that it had taken a negative turn and was consuming me.
I began blogging shortly after I finally let my friends and family in on my secret struggle with addiction. At that point, my life was spiraling out of control. I had hidden my gambling issues for years, even breaking the law to support my habit.
For me, hitting rock bottom was not about a dramatic confrontation with the police or having to explain my actions to my children. Instead, it was an all-consuming sense of shame that wrapped around me like a heavy cloak, making darkness my only refuge.
As rumors spread among my friends, my shame morphed into an uncontrollable beast. I retreated inward, feeling desolate and terrified about facing the world.
Soon after I let my secret slip, I sought help from a counselor who specialized in gambling addiction. She helped me understand the complexities of recovery and how I needed to confront my feelings of shame instead of numbing them with gambling. Yet, as I began this painful journey, my shame only intensified.
One night, I found myself overwhelmed by sadness, sitting alone in my dark room with a bottle of wine in one hand and sleeping pills in the other. I felt utterly worthless, a liar and a thief. In that moment, I wanted to escape from my life entirely. But as I contemplated taking those pills, I fell asleep before going through with it. Maybe I was lucky, or maybe I just wasn’t ready to give up. That was my rock bottom.
The next morning, despite battling a monumental hangover, I realized I had to confront my demons. My motivation came from the faces of my two teenagers, who still looked at me with unconditional love. They didn’t see the terrible person I believed I had become; they only saw their mom.
I met my counselor that afternoon, carrying not just the weight of my addiction but also the shame of an attempted suicide. Among her suggestions, she urged me to write—to pour my feelings onto the page until the tears stopped. Those words stuck with me.
When I returned home, I began to write. Through my tears, I penned a heartfelt letter to my younger self, reassuring her that it would be okay and reminding her that none of what happened was her fault. I encouraged her to let out her pain instead of keeping it bottled up.
I wrote those words as a part of my healing journey, and I kept writing. I didn’t edit; I simply let my thoughts flow. Many women grappling with addiction have faced some form of trauma. For me, expressing my pain through writing has empowered me to confront my past and realize that I am not alone—both in my recovery from gambling and in the trauma I endured.
Each day I spend writing brings me closer to accepting who I am now. I may never be the same person I was before my addiction, but I’ve learned to take it one day at a time. Writing is not a replacement for my addiction; it has become a healthy outlet—one that helps me avoid the traps of gambling. There are many alternatives for recovery, from exercise to painting or volunteering. Whatever path you choose, take pride in your progress as you overcome the shadows of addiction.
Writing has become a vital part of my recovery, helping me move beyond the shame I once felt. It allows me to escape from my troubled thoughts and find the freedom to forgive myself. Today, I can confidently say that writing has played a crucial role in my journey to sobriety.
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Summary:
Writing has been an essential part of my recovery from gambling addiction, helping me confront my shame and trauma. It serves as a healthy outlet, allowing me to express my feelings and find solace in my journey. Through writing, I’ve discovered a newfound strength and the ability to forgive myself, paving the way to a healthier, more fulfilling life.