5 Tips For a Gamble Free Christmas.

Well, we are nearing that time of the year already.

Again…

For Gamblers (and affected others) Christmas can be particularly tough. If you are worried about gambling over Christmas, here’s a few tips you might find helpful:

1) Plan for Payday: If you are working full-time, part-time or in receipt of benefits, you are probably going to be paid early over Christmas. This is likely to be more than you usually receive and on a day that’s unusual to you. Plan for this now! Consider asking someone you trust to help you with managing your money, if you are concerned about a gambling session on payday.

2) Keep to a routine: Hard these days, I know. Nothing seems to be certain. But with the ample time off many of us will have, try and either develop a routine tailored for the holidays; or make a conscious effort to stick to the routine you have. Boredom, over indulgence and too much time cooked up indoors can be factors and may lead to gambling binges.

3) Install a Gamble Block on your devices and/or Self Exclude from gambling: The sporting calendar is full on over Christmas, especially with football. If you know this is likely to be a trigger for you, get the blocks in. You should be able to get a free trial somewhere from one of the decent blocking apps, so no better time to use it than now.

4) Don’t pile pressure on yourself: Avoid overspending on gifts (especially if you can’t afford it…) or give yourself far too much to do. Slow down and try not to rush. Keep it simple! I understand that a lots of us won’t get to share this Christmas with the people they love and it’s not everyone’s favourite time of the year. Talk about it. Don’t repress your feelings. Gambling to escape isn’t the answer.

5) Put the phone down and laptop away: Listen, I’m not one to talk but you have to make an effort to take proper time off. Log out of Social Media, don’t check the scores constantly and leave/charge the phone in a different room. Make things a little less convenient. It does help, especially if you have someone around to hold you to account!

Folks, I hope you have a gamble and stress free Christmas. Have a good one and thank you for all of your support.

Darren.

Gambling & Childhood: A Timeline.

“I worry for the next generation” was the quote and headline used, when I was interviewed for an article for The BBC.

A year and a half later, I can’t say I’m any less concerned.

I once attended Youth Work training, which centred on Social Media, Apps and Technology. I sauntered in, pulled up a chair and gorged on free sandwiches, biscuits and coffee, thinking I’d have a rough idea of what the latest trends are, and how they influence young people. I was 32 at the time. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how much I would learn from the session.

Six hours later, I was thinking to myself how foolish and naive I was. Not only was I behind the times; I knew next to nothing.

As it turned out, I really wasn’t as cool as I thought: just a portly dinosaur, waiting for the bus home, covered in crumbs, and scrolling through Facebook. Sad times, but a fun image.

Joking aside, what I mostly took away from the training, is just how vulnerable and exposed children are online. It was really quite an eye-opener. And although the training didn’t focus on gaming and gambling specifically, (which I was hoping to learn about…) I couldn’t help but make these connections throughout. I thought to myself:

“Fuck… If I have kids one day, I have no idea how I would navigate this. I’d always be one step behind and be constantly in the dark.”

I still feel like this now. I can genuinely give myself anxiety if I think too hard about it.

If you’re a parent reading this and have similar concerns about your child: I tip one of my many caps to you – It can’t be easy.

I’m from the tail-end of a generation, that didn’t grow up with smart phones and unlimited access to the internet, so I wasn’t exposed to as many of the online dangers, the same way young people are today. Although I’m not a parent yet, I presume with a lot of everyday things, the principals more or less stay the same from when I was growing up: educate and guide your children the best you can but, ultimately, they have to learn from their own experiences and make their own mistakes.

But this doesn’t really fly in the online realm, does it? For example, Grooming and Cyber-Bullying – the potential impact, consequences and fallout can be – and is – truly devastating. No sane person would ever want their child to go through such things.

Because of what I’ve experienced with online gambling, and the ease to which I was hurt, I would never want a child of mine to go through the same thing. And whether you believe it or not, the reality is that it is already happening on a massive scale, right underneath our noses. Without getting too high on my political soapbox, we are really letting our young people down. And when I say ‘young’, I mean as young as 11 years old; and when I say ‘we’, I mean our lawmakers.

Just saying.

I encourage you to read this brilliant article in The Guardian, who have dug deeper into the problem. It’s a sobering read at times.

The Timeline

I have been reflecting back on my childhood and youth, exploring my own exposure to gambling. I have a fuller understanding of what went wrong as an adult, but I was curious to know if the ball was already in motion for me at an early age. As it’s not something I think about often, I wasn’t expecting any revelations. But I’ve managed to stir up memories – and even emotions attached to memories – that I thought I had lost forever.

The following is a rough timeline, starting from my earliest memory and ending where I took my first spin on a roulette wheel. I pinpoint roulette as a marker, where my gambling became more compulsive and addictive in nature. I don’t necessarily believe I had a ‘problem’ until then.

Just a note: I blew my mind a little with this.

– During a family holiday to Butlin’s: (a cheap, family Summer Camp type place for those not familiar…) I remember being fascinated with Claw Machines, at the Amusement Arcade. One particular machine, was full of stuffed toy monkeys, with long arms and Velcro hands. This turned out to be a bit of a design flaw, as many of the monkeys had stuck together. My Dad ended up pulling out a dozen monkeys or so in one shot. I recall how excited I felt and how lucky I was. It stuck with me. I was maybe 6 or 7 years old.

– I remember my first real bet being 50p on a horse. I’m not sure of the name, but I know it won.

– Primary School, 9 years old: Like most boys growing up in the 90’s, I was obsessed with Pogs (round, quirky, collectable cards that could be traded, swapped etc.) I would spend my lunch break, trading with other kids. It also involved a game where you would stack them up, and take turns hitting them with a far heavier, metal slammer. If you turn them over, you win the Pogs! Harmless enough of course, but I started betting my pocket money along with the Pogs.

– Claw Machine (again…) down at the beach arcade with a friend. I wasted all of my pocket money, attempting to pull out a ‘Kenny from South-Park’ stuffed toy. I was convinced the game was rigged and I had a mini-meltdown. I asked for the manager, who just gave a casual shrug of the shoulders and a “better luck next time.” I remember it bothering me more than it should have.

– Many of the magazines and newspapers scattered around our house growing up, had some sort of promotional material attached. My mum used to read all the trashy woman’s magazines and I’d often flick through them for something to do. I’d commonly find scratch cards that, of course, you would nearly always win with. But you’d have to call up a premium number to find out the prize. On one of the scratch cards, (from a Kids football magazine aimed at boys no less…) I won a games console. I will never forget the words: “Congratulations! You have one a Sony PS1 with World League Soccer Game!” I was 12.

– Every weekend for years, I used to go watch my Dad play football. I spent a lot of my time hanging around the changing rooms, kicking a ball about outside etc. It wasn’t not uncommon for the players to be talking about the bets they had on that day. The Club also had their own Sweepstake that most people would bet on. I’d often help out by going around collecting money, and handing them out. I’d always fill in a couple myself. I have several memories around this time of me sitting in the car, waiting for my Dad to pick up his winnings/betting slips from the bookies.

– Teenage years: several nights out ending in having to walk home, as I had blown all of my bus fares/taxi money on fruit machines. I also recall getting to the jackpot board one night, and lost it all after taking bad advice from a friend. I wanted to cash out but was convinced otherwise. It paid out later in the night, but not for me. I remember how unusually down it made me feel.

– Football Accumulator; Early Twenties: I needed Rangers to draw with Lyon for £500. It was 1-0 Lyon with ten minutes to go. This was the first time I recall feeling hurt and frustrated about losing a bet:

“Benzema looked certain to net when he rounded McGregor but, with the goal at his mercy, shot straight at the covering Whittaker and the keeper recovered to block the follow-up effort.

Rangers charged straight up the park and Barry Ferguson slid the ball into the six yard box, only for Darcheville to somehow divert it on to the crossbar and over with his shin.

The Ibrox crowd were further stunned when an error from Cuellar allowed Benzema room to fire a shot between the legs of McGregor.

And the impressive striker doubled his tally soon after with a marvellous arrowing shot, low into the corner from 30 yards out.

A miserable night for the home team got worse when Darcheville saw red for reacting angrily to a tackle and stamping on an opponent.” BBC Sport.

-Early Twenties: In the Bookies, being shown by my Dad how to play roulette for the first time. He made it look easy. I remember being impressed with how quickly he made big money and how straight-forward it seemed. It caught my attention immediately. I would end up in the bookies myself, not long after this, losing money on roulette.

I’ve not spoken to him about this particular day and to be truthful, it still bothers me from time-to-time. Maybe one day I can explore this further, but as you can appreciate it, this one’s pretty personal in nature. I’d rather have that chat with him first.

So there you have it. These are just some of my memories, that likely impacted my relationship with gambling later in life.

It was a time where gambling was normalised in culture, but not as saturated and mainstream as it is now. Sure, there was still gambling addiction and most definitely bad practise going on somewhere, but not on the scale we are seeing today. And with the advancements in technology, coupled with an out-of-date Gambling Act, this generation really are just sitting ducks.

So, until this changes, I will continue to worry about this generation, and, the generation that follows.

– Are you worried about your children being exposed to gambling and other online threats?

– How do you approach this subject with them?

– And what are your own childhood memories of gambling?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Alcohol and Gambling: a pint before a punt?

The average person who doesn’t gamble, may think that you’d surely have to be blackout drunk to gamble excessively; or be riding high on whatever your recreational drug of choice is.

Gambling is generally painted in an alluring way in mainstream film and media – a heady world of casinos and sporting events; drugs; sex, money and alcohol; city lights and late nights; high rolling and hustling, wrapped up with all the vibrancy that life has to offer. This image of gambling is presented as an ultimate blowout for the ages, so I see the appeal.

But generally speaking, it’s really not how things are. And clearly, this wasn’t my experience – although it would probably make for a more interesting read…

For a dose of reality, you only needed to step into my local bookmakers at 2pm on a rainy Tuesday afternoon in Edinburgh – far from the blitz and glamour of the Vegas Strip. The only flashing lights to be found here, was from the Fixed Odd Betting Terminals; roadworks; and, on one occasion, the Police arresting a shoplifter across the street.

My relationship with gambling was mostly a sober affair. The reason I gambled compulsively is because I was addicted to gambling. Not because I was addicted to drugs or alcohol, nor under the influence of either, although I’m sure others have differing experiences.

Most of my gambling was done alone and behind closed doors. My addiction didn’t need any kind outside of influence to manifest. It didn’t really matter whether I gambled at home online, or at the bookies. Because the sad truth is, I felt just as alone and undisturbed in either.

Casinos wasn’t really my thing: the only times I ever found myself in them over the years, was to catch a night cap with friends after the bars and clubs had shut and even then, I wouldn’t gamble. As mentioned, I was a very private and secretive gambler. The idea of potentially having someone attempt to engage with me in public or watch what I was doing whilst gambling was off putting, so I’d usually just hang about the bar.

I was also too self-conscious and intimidated by the presence of other gamblers, especially those that I had deemed “better gamblers than me” so I’ve never sat at a Blackjack table or, surprisingly, a live Roulette Wheel – a game that would go on to really fuck me up and cost me thousands…

The first time I lost big, was £1000 in two spins on online roulette, whilst trying to chase my losses – something which I would go on to repeat a few more times before I managed to stop. This is a huge amount of money for me. I was at home on my own, and completely sober. In fact, I was sober for all of my big losses. But the thing they all had in common, was that they hurt massively. Like a literal gut punch. And the hurt doesn’t come instantly – it slowly consumes you as reality begins to bite. And when it does, you would do anything to turn back the clock – you just want to feel something close to normal again, after riding such a wave of emotions in the hours before. You become so far from yourself.

I find this type of compulsive gambling experience difficult to describe to people – it’s intense and hard to imagine. From euphoria to numbness, to feeling like you’ve blacked out and missed hours of time – it’s absolutely devastating to your mental health and you are completely out of control. You can’t just simply ‘stop’ at this point.

On that particular night, I experienced new feelings and emotions. I can only describe it as a visceral physical and mental breakdown, probably brought on by an adrenaline dump from hours of repetitive and addictive behaviour.

Once the dust had settled, and I was finished with frantically refreshing the page (to be 100% sure, that what had just happened had actually happened…) I began to tremble uncontrollably, as my mind ran circles. It felt like I was falling apart and it was incredibly raw. From there, I screamed; I punched furniture; I literally tried to pull my hair out at one point. I was completely unhinged. In pure desperation, the only thing I could think of doing was drinking to try and level the feeling out. I went to the fridge, opened a bottle of wine, and downed the whole bottle right there and then where I stood in the kitchen. I then jumped in the shower and literally tried to wash the feeling off. I stood there for as long as it took, as the water continuously bounced off my head. At some point, the wine kicked in and I jumped out of the shower and felt…normal?

I really didn’t know.

I sat back down in the living room wrapped up in my towel, and burst into tears. This was the first time that I’d felt so lost and out of control. I simply couldn’t handle it as I didn’t know how too. The alcohol begun to help take the edge off and took some of the pain away. It did exactly what I wanted it to do. From there, I continued drinking into the night.

This wouldn’t be the last time that I drank to numb the feeling of being addicted to gambling. I have sat in a few bars, staring into a pint glass not really knowing what to think or do anymore. But the one consistent with me, is that I didn’t need drugs or alcohol to gamble. In fact, on many occasions it was the opposite. I needed drugs or alcohol after gambling, to take my mind away from what I was feeling at the time. And when I think back on it now, I feel fortunate that one addictive habit didn’t fully manifest itself into three. Drinking was purely a plaster on a wound that was never going to heal, unless I got help with my gambling. Numbing myself in this way was not going to fix anything. It was simply a means of delaying and deflecting from the real issues, and I’m glad that I realised that when I did.

Although I completely appreciate that this would be a sensitive topic for some, I’d be interested to hear other people’s relationship with drugs and/or alcohol, especially in relation to gambling. What was your experience?

Gambling Debt and The ‘Fear’.

When I think back to the year or two before I finally managed to get on top of my gambling addiction, I’m astonished that I didn’t find myself in debt. During this period, I was auto-piloting my way through life and hanging on mentally by a very fine thread. I was doing a good job of hiding my struggles (just about holding it together but putting on a brave face) but I was definitely feeling the pressure, and going downhill fast. A lot of what happened then, feels like one long depressive come down, from a shit house party that my friends had left hours ago. Yet here I was: alone, mentally broken and overstaying my welcome, not really knowing what the fuck I was doing with my life.

From an early age, I always had a fear (I guess you could call it that?) of debt, which carried its way through to my adult life. This ‘fear’ mind-set likely saved my arse, later in my life.

I had an interesting and varied upbringing, coming from a family who (quite rightly) had me working for my pocket money for as long as I can remember – I was in my first part-time job at the age of twelve, grafting in the family bakery. I was brought up to respect the things we had, and I can’t knock my parents for this. I had a great childhood.

Although this probably isn’t true, to my knowledge I can’t remember anything being loaned to me, nor did I ever ask for anything from friends or family. I have also never used a credit card. I don’t like owing anyone any amount of money. It’s just never sat well with me nor was money ever that important. Growing up in the family business, I saw first-hand how bad my Dad was with managing his finances. He would say otherwise I’m sure, but its how I felt and continue to feel about it. And all it did was compound my ‘fear’. I grew up believing that I’d be bad with money too.

‘The less I had, the less I had to worry about.’ – This was my mind-set for a long time. I just didn’t want this burden or responsibility. I have never earned a lot of money and, in a way, I’ve always felt comfortable with it being this way.

I remember going to my local bank to open my first account when I was sixteen; I also remember not having a clue what the Bank Clerk was talking about. He asked if I wanted an overdraft: a type of loan from the bank if you’re a little short that month, I’d have to pay back with some interest. Foolishly, instead of walking out the bank that day with no planned overdraft (which is what I should have done) I left with a £10 overdraft as I thought this would discourage me from using it. What actually happened as a result, is that I would often have to pay the bank a ridiculous amount of money back for accidentally slipping into that £10. It was really stupid.

Fast forward ten years, here I was in a different bank, on a rainy midweek morning in Edinburgh. However this time, I should have had £23.500 in my account. I was down to £17.000. I had blown over £5000 on online Roulette and slots in 24 hours, and I had pending transactions and reverse withdrawals from several betting companies, that I had completely lost track of. These tallied up to another couple of grand give or take. I fucked up hugely and I was at my very lowest that morning.

My Grandad (who I miss dearly) had been keeping shares in my name, for the day that I needed to put a deposit down on a house. He was a wise, calm, cultured and measured man who I had nothing but respect for. We used to meet up for a “business” meeting about twice a year, which I absolutely hated. We would meet in a nice Café somewhere for a coffee, and he would always rock up with a smart, black briefcase that he pushed for me to take responsibility for. Don’t get me wrong, I love my Grandad but any conversation surrounding money always made me feel uncomfortable and I would tend to try and deflect away from it as much as possible.

Besides, the briefcase clashed massively with my scuffed Air-walk Trainers and my baggy skate jeans…

I liked that our relationship was pure. I would have loved my Grandad if he hadn’t have had a penny to his name. But I was put in a tough spot:

My Grandad had been suffering with Parkinson’s disease for many years, and he was starting to deteriorate massively. The sad truth is, that if I didn’t sort this out with him now, there was a real chance that the funds would never reach me. It had been dragging out a while, due to his ill health. And although my Grandad was keen for me to put pen to paper, there was various complications along the way as you could imagine. My financial future was in doubt, and my Grandad was dying. This was the reality of the situation. It was a horrible and difficult period.

I wasn’t ready for that kind of money as I knew I was a liability but what can I do? My family didn’t know the extent of my gambling, and I couldn’t spring this on my Grandad. Not now.

Eventually and thankfully, we got it all sorted, but it was a terrible time for me to come into some money. I ended up gambling some of this away, which resulted in a big wake up call.

Back in the bank, I felt like sixteen year old me: naive, worried and just not getting it. I asked the clerk to transfer the balance into my mums account. I couldn’t think what else to do that morning. But I needed to do this as soon as possible, as I feared that the rest of the money could well be gone by days end. I was so close to chasing my losses that day. So close. I had been planning on doing this, even on the way down there. I was really struggling.

The Clerk pulled up my account and swung the screen around for me to see. He asked if everything seemed accurate. It was a sober read. Betting sites for pages and pages: some I remember; some I have very little recollection of. Although I didn’t want to believe it, I had no choice but to own it.

I was utterly devastated and ashamed of my behaviour. The clerk had to figure out exactly how much money I had, as I had so many pending transactions. Just in case you’re interested: not once was I asked about my gambling or if I needed any help.

By days end, my account was empty, just like it had been in the months before. I transferred the balance to my Mum, but didn’t tell her why.

Later in the day, I told my wife (girlfriend at the time) what I had done. This wasn’t the first time I had blown a large amount of money. I gambled all of my savings a couple of times previously. She was supportive, but I had to work to build her trust again. This, I completely understood.

I always gambled what I had, until I had nothing left. And then payday would come and I would repeat the process. Somehow, I was able to manage and hide this incredibly well. The ‘fear’ I believe, kept me out of real financial trouble.

During my time volunteering for Gambling Therapy’s Live Online chat, I have heard some harrowing and extremely difficult stories of debt amounted through gambling. And although it’s silly to think this way, I’ve always felt an element of guilt that I couldn’t relate more – although obviously, I understand to an extent how it must feel to carry that burden around daily.

I have nothing but admiration for addicted gamblers (and friends and family directly affected) who have been able to be mentally strong enough to fight and gain control back of their debt: I cannot think of many things more difficult to go through, and you have my complete respect.

Debt is a worry I do not have. But, to be truthful, it continues to be a ‘fear’ of mine to this very day.

Gambling Triggers.

Triggers}} Having awareness about what may potentially trigger a gambling relapse is one thing, but what about the unexpected curve balls that life sometimes throws your way? I’m using this picture of a children’s claw machine as a prime example of something seemingly ordinary and harmless, yet something that can really set you back in your recovery.

Although not financially damaging (unless you really want that pug…) a machine such as this can be just as stimulating as gambling, and release the very same endorphins.
A pound for a pug, could ultimately claw you back into gambling – you’re effectively stirring all of the same emotions and feelings you had all over again.

My advice? Trust your gut instinct with this. If you have to think about it, stay clear.

To give you a more relatable example: I relapsed after months of not gambling, due to my work participating in a World Cup Sweepstake. My contribution? Literally two pounds, and I drew Paraguay – a team that was never going to win the World Cup. However, I watched every Paraguay game eagerly, and those endorphins stayed with me throughout the group stages. Before the World Cup was over, I was betting on sports again.

These are the things that are out to test you and will come around from time to time.
They will come in many different forms so be ready. Don’t think too long and hard about it. Simply act by not getting involved.

Besides, no one likes pugs anyway…

A Troubling Day.

A Troubling Day}} Occasionally, I will walk from the West End of Edinburgh; (where I live now) to the East End (where I used to live) to see what’s new; what’s gone; and what’s still there. Thankfully, the amazing Sicilian Bakery is still going strong. The best bakery in Edinburgh in my opinion.

My walk today, reminded me of a particularly difficult day in the midst of my gambling addiction. A day where I became acutely aware of how bad things were getting and how my mental health was likely taking a hit as well.
On an overcast midweek afternoon, my only plan for that day was to make it across the city without gambling and enjoy the walk. However, I made it literally around the corner to the closest cash machine and to my local bookies.

I played the Fixed Odd Betting Terminals. I won some; I lost some. This wasn’t unusual. But what was unusual about this day, is that I repeated this process over and over and over again, in every bookie on every street, on a three mile stretch into town. I was out of control.

Every spin in every bookie, felt like a shot of adrenaline to my heart – my brain desperately playing catch up, not having anytime to process what was going on.

I began making makeshift rules to myself, to justify what I was doing: “If I win £50 in this place, I’ll treat myself to a steak lunch and a pint”. I’d quite often make such assurances to myself. By the time I made it to the West End, I had broken even. Not a penny more; not a penny less. And I felt nothingness. Just pure vapid emptiness. I had given in to how helpless I was. I turned around and made my way back home, all the way to my local bookies: To my preferred chair; At my preferred machine; On my preferred street. And I gambled what I had.

I walked past this bookies today and felt vapid nothingness. And it felt amazing. I have the power.

A saunter through town these days? A literal cake walk.

The Great Outdoors.

The Great Outdoors}} My reality is this: if I don’t make it outside within an hour or two after waking up, it often becomes problematic. I can get increasingly anxious and agitated, and will lose myself in hours of procrastination. The only way around this is to leave the house. It’s that straightforward.

When I think about “The Great Outdoors” I have a slightly different perception than most: In my mind, the “Great” part, represents how beneficial it is for me, to even step outside my own front door. It’s like pulling the plug and switching myself back on – I’m fully functional again, and can be far more productive afterwards.

In the past, I would have been vulnerable to gambling by staying inside the house all day. This isn’t a concern now, but I understand the importance of reading my own mental health and acting on what it’s trying to tell me.

I love walking: It’s not unusual for me to pick a direction and walk for hours. Although this sounds sappy, I really reconnect with myself at these times. I am rarely comfortable with my own company at home (which thankfully isn’t often the case) but being alone in a cool city or a scenic green space, is like therapy for me. I’m in my element. Even on holiday with my other half, she understands if I take some time out for myself. I love an adventure – even if that adventure is as simple as walking to town, to scope out a restaurant to eat at later.

Being in Lockdown, has shed light on just how much I appreciate “The Great Outdoors” – the stimulation and excitement of the outside world, is hugely important to my mental well being.

Now I am forced to learn how to be comfortable with myself at home too. And…surprisingly, I’m feeling okay.

But I guess If Lockdown goes on much longer, maybe I’ll have to start calling it “The Great Indoors”…

Out With One Habit; In with Another.

Out with one habit. In with another}} Giving up gambling is hard. Really hard. When you’re desperately trying to quit, the weeks that follow are the sketchiest, because your brain is fighting against you. It craves the stimulation that you pulled the plug on, and it’s searching for ways to get it. This is why many – including myself – slip up, before finally winning this battle.

You’ve left a massive void in your life, that was filled by gambling, so naturally you’re going to look elsewhere to fill that gap. It’s important to be aware of this, as it’s easy to make the wrong choices at this time. Ramping up your recreational drug use or drinking into an oblivion isn’t the answer. Trust me.

I did a lot of my gambling in several High Street Bookmakers, pumping money into their machines – trying not to go in and gamble, when I walked past and saw them daily was a real struggle. My behaviour started to become compulsive and obsessive. Sometimes, I’d pace outside trying to talk myself out of going in. However, by complete fluke, I found the perfect solution:

I started to veer into Charity Shops, that are plentiful nearby. I hunted for rare video games (which I know a bit about) to collect and sell later. Over time, this became a habit that replaced gambling and a habit that kept me out of the bookies entirely.

I was experiencing a very similar dopamine rush, by doing this as I was by gambling. It felt like a gamble because it was very much a gamble! Sometimes I’d “win” nothing; sometimes I’d hit the jackpot.

To me, it was exciting. And although unconventional, it was exactly what I needed at that time. It served its purpose and gave me just enough distraction to set me off in the right direction.

The aftermath? I’m saddled with a bunch of shit that I now have to give away or sell. Under the bed in the spare bedroom, is like a snapshot into my brain at that time. But it’s also a physical testament and reminder, to what it took to keep me away from gambling.

It lives there for now, but I’m slowly moving things on. As they say: Out of sight, Out of mind. Just like the bookies back then.

Temptation.

Temptation}} a word that I think that gets overlooked a little – such a tease of a word. To me, temptation represents something you really want to do but know in your heart you really shouldn’t:

“I’m tempted to stay for another drink, but I’ve got work in the morning.”

“I’m tempted to call in sick, but I know they are short today.”

With my experience with gambling however, there was no reasoning like the two examples above. It simply went like this: “I’m tempted to gamble…” Followed by anxiety, stress, and what I can only describe as feeling like being stuck on a train, knowing I can’t get off. Knowing that I’ll end up in the Bookies around the corner. It became a feeling of dread and hopelessness, as opposed to a personal inner dialogue.

But I shook it off. It does pass – It’s simply a matter of time, and sheer determination.

I’ve lived directly behind this William Hill for three years now, and I genuinely forget this fact more often than not: I’m far more interested in the Pound-Stretcher next door (yes, we still have one on the High Street where I live). At times, I feel liberated when I walk past – like I am walking past a previous life; At times I feel nothing. But mostly, I don’t even notice.

I know I am genuinely gamble and temptation free. And that’s more than a feeling. That’s a fact.

So, into Pound-Stretcher I go, to buy…stuff.

Besides, they definitely need my money more than the horrible neighbour next door.