Sweat is dripping down my face as I speed-walk towards my destination. I’m late enough that I should be running but this 45°C degree weather and massive hangover from last night’s self medicating feels threatening to my ability to stay conscious. A constantly dwindling money stack, an endless stream of cheap alcohol and unrelenting and unquenchable desire to risk every last dime I own in exchange for a fleeting moment of happiness and accomplishment, this is the life of an addict and a degenerate. I jog the final few steps into the Crown Casino in Melbourne, Australia as the air-conditioning finally washes over my body and instantly transforms my sweat-soaked T-shirt into an ice blanket that causes me to shiver.
And, suddenly, I’m nervous.
My mind begins to stress:
“Please let there be a spot left at the poker table. Please let there be a spot left at the poker table. Please let there be a spot left at the poker table. “
“Sorry bro, the tournament is full. You can hang out and wait for the next one in 3 hours if you want.”
No luck. Standard.
My shirt begins to suffocate me. This is exactly what I was afraid of: I’m bored, in a casino, a small stack of high-denomination bills already allocated to my survival during these final 2 weeks of travels burning a hole in my pocket, and a raging craving to satisfy some unknowable desire. I know that without the money I'm in some real trouble. No resources, no support, no bed, no food.
And, suddenly, I’m excited.
There is very little in this world that is a better stimulant than fear.
I begin walking towards the wrong end of the casino, towards the table games, an area aptly known as The Pit. My internal sponsor tries to reason with the addict.
“You already lost half your bankroll today playing online poker, do you really need to lose the rest of it now? You’re in no shape to even be in here in the first place. Just cut your losses now and enjoy the rest of your vacation in peace.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen.”
My addict is highly sarcastic.
I reach the $25/hand minimum blackjack table and stand back momentarily to watch an older Chinese couple who are playing at the table but seem more concerned with a conversation I can not understand. I imagine them to be a pair of loving grandparents who use their winnings to spoil their grandchildren. I bet it feels nice to be loved like that. Suddenly all I want is for them to lose every last dollar they have. Before I can wonder why such a vicious thought would make its way into my mind, the addict ceases control. He’s hungry and demanding to be fed.
I sit down in the corner seat of the table, as far away from the grandparents as possible, and lay my entire remaining bankroll out in front of me. The couple eyes me curiously while maintaining their conversation.
There are only two goals for me now:
- make back my earlier losses and
- somehow manage to walk out the door before losing it all back.
Everything is on the line and yet all I feel is calm. How strange.
As the addict slides the first bet onto the table and the dealer begins laying out the cards I experience the sort of focus and single-mindedness that has been nearly impossible for me to reach in any other area of my normal life. Suddenly, the noise of the casino floor fades into the background, the ache in my stomach disappears, and even the endless internal chatter of the sponsor evaporates. Silence. Finally.
“Hit me.”
“21! Nice hand sir, welcome to the table!”
I manage a forced smile; there’s too much work to be done still and I’ve seen this film before.
My luck turns sour almost immediately and I’m suddenly teetering on the edge of utter and complete disaster. I feel the mood of the table begin to shift. The old couple mute their conversation and turn their attention to the cards. It’s almost as if they can feel the weight of my actions on their shoulders too. Eventually the cards begin to turn again and I start increasing my bets to ride the streak, never pulling any back, always piling more on top. My critical mind knows this is an insane way to go about this but that hardly seems to matter now. Or maybe it's all that matters. It's hard to tell.
And suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the bet in front of me has swelled much too big. I suddenly feel like I can barely breath. How did I get here? WHAT AM I DOING?
The hand suddenly feels like the ledge that my entire existence has been hanging off of. My insides feel as though they are climbing up my throat and all I want to do is scream…or cry…or laugh. It's hard to tell that too.
My poker face is solid though; I’m a professional sufferer.
The grandma from across the table leans towards me and whispers loudly,
“Aren’t you nervous?”
I look her in the eye momentarily and hold my hand out in the air in front of me. It is shaking with impressive vigor. No matter how hard I try, I can not stop it.
Grandma laughs hesitantly and I smile to reassure her. I wonder if she wants to hug. I think I could use a hug.
The dealer begins laying out the cards and the gravity of my situation finally hits me. My insides begin to scream.
‘ONE TIME! PLEASE LORD LET ME WIN ONE TIME! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEAAAASSSEEEE!’
The addict and sponsor are finally on the same team.
The dealer slides me an ace, the money card.
The pleading intensifies.
‘PLEASE! JUST THIS ONCE! ONE TIME! NO PAIN ONE TIME! I PROMISE IT'S THE LAST TIME!’
All I can hear now is the blood rushing past my ears. The world seems to be moving in slow motion.
The dealer flips over a king and my breath explodes out of my body as if I’d been holding it my entire life.
“Blackjack! Congratulations sir, big winner!”
I think grandma is cheering. I can’t be sure though because all I’m experiencing is joy. No wait, that’s not joy. No, definitely not joy, just…relief. Yes, that’s it, relief.
I feel as if I’d spent my entire life on death row only to be pardoned while sitting in The Chair. And suddenly I can see it all with crystal clarity. I finally understand that the real thrill I'm chasing is the imminence of disaster. I know now that this HAS to be the last time I chase this rush. For me, there is no process, there is no treatment-plan, this must simply be the end. Right here, right now. I know now, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that if I continue to face this edge often enough, disaster will eventually triumph. There simply can not be any other way.
In this moment, I know I have to start caring about the consequences of my actions. I have to care for my family, I have to care for myself, and I have to care for the sake of my long-term life experience.
Sometimes, things that once seemed utterly impossible suddenly require no effort at all. This isn’t as easy for everyone, I know this; but on this day, it is for me.
Who knows, maybe I’m just lucky…
~LTM
Happy, Healthy and Pit-Game free for over a decade!
To get support for a gambling addiction please visit http://www.ncpgambling.org/