I started gambling when I was relatively young.
It was an instant money ticket here and there, bought for me on birthdays and special occasions, handed to me by older relatives with sparkling eyes and good intentions. I was thrilled with a win of a few dollars, golden coins redeemed for me, which I treasured and bought things that kids buy with them – lollies, notebooks, and stickers were notable memories.
As a kid, I used to watch my grandfather at family lunches go behind glass screens in hotel pokie rooms. I listened to the noises from machines, bells and whistles and the cheering when someone won. I remember being endlessly fascinated by this, and wondering what it would be like to be an adult having the ability to go beyond this screen.
My grandfather took great delight on my 18th birthday by taking me behind the screen and handing me a cup of coins. We played together and I remember a few wins early on. They were small in the scheme of things but walking away from a family lunch with a few hundred dollars extra when that exceeded what I made in a week was a big thing. It was exciting and made me wonder what else was possible.
My addiction was a slow burn. It crept up through my university studies into a seven day a week habit which I concealed from everyone I knew and loved. When money disappeared, there was always an explanation. My purse got stolen. I loaned it to a friend and they didn’t pay me back on time. Addicts are skilled manipulators of the truth and I continue to work on that with a good psychologist every single day I wake up.
My grandfather died in 2005, and after that time, my addiction skyrocketed. I kept telling myself that I’d find the peace I was looking for. In the arms of a poker machine. Reflecting on it now, it seems so irrational… but I kept chasing it. I still chase it. It was somewhere I always felt safe. Nobody would bother me, or ask me about how I was feeling. Money slipped through my fingers like it was water. It didn’t even seem like real cash.
I fight this urge daily, hourly, sometimes minute to minute.
Sometimes it still wins. But sometimes I do.
I knew that I needed to find a circuit breaker. That came when I learned that it was possible to exclude myself from gaming venues through a program known as “self exclusion”. It enables the person who is the subject of the self exclusion order to ban themselves from entering the venue. It worked for me because it created a physical barrier that I needed between the temptation and myself. A circuit breaker between impulse and action.
Initially, I self excluded for three years and when it ended, I let the ban lapse. A relapse saw me exclude myself indefinitely after learning I needed that the hard way. Old habits die hard.
Self exclusion is not for everyone and requires venues to police it effectively, which can be a significant challenge. After all, if you’re a university student doing a few shifts at a pub each week to support yourself through your study, are you really going to be the person who checks the system to make sure the punters in your venue can be there? It’s easy to see how enforcing self exclusion could slip through the cracks in these situations and many others.
For too long, I’ve thought there needs to be more support for women. Over the years, I’ve done a lot of advocacy – from helping other addicts to setting up grassroots movements to help people, right up to being on national boards. While these programs were undoubtedly valuable, they’ve highlighted a glaring gap in resources specifically for women struggling with similar issues.
The rate of women’s exposure to gambling harm is increasing. There’s well documented research that says women turn to gambling in times of crisis or as an escape.
Where are the spaces for women? For the woman seeking non-judgemental support, for the woman in crisis, for the woman who feels isolated and alone in her struggle, for the women caring for other women struggling with addiction issues, for the woman who wants to speak in schools about gambling addiction or advocate for change in her community?
There’s been nothing. Until now, that is.
The Untangle Project is a new initiative dedicated to providing a safe and non-judgmental space specifically for women affected by gambling addiction.
We’re only new and small but mighty. Ours is a pay-it-forward model – a true women helping women ethos. It’s not ‘we help you’, it’s ‘we help each other’.
We’re ably supported by incredible mentors and we know that together, we can make a difference. But we need you. If you’re reading this and thinking ‘so and so would be interested in this and might like to get involved’, please send them my way. We need financial backing, connections, networks, a board, and most importantly, we need your support. Whether you can contribute financially, connect us with valuable networks and resources, or lend your expertise to our board, every bit makes a difference.
So please, if you believe in our mission and want to help make a difference, reach out to me today via [email protected].
Image supplied: Anna Martin. Credit: Primer.