Recently, someone suggested that my writing had taken the place of my gambling addiction. Rather than recognizing it as a healthy outlet, the implication was that my writing had become an obsession in itself.
I began blogging almost immediately after I confronted my addiction. My life was chaotic; I had just revealed to friends and family that I had been concealing my gambling problem for years. Not only had I hidden it, but I had also engaged in illegal activities to support it.
This marked my personal rock bottom. Everyone’s experience with rock bottom is unique. Mine didn’t involve a police officer on my doorstep or the difficult conversation with my children about my moral failings. Instead, it was a sudden, crushing weight of shame that overwhelmed me, leaving me in a dark place where I felt safe.
As rumors spread through my social circle, my shame morphed into an uncontrollable beast. I retreated into myself, feeling terrified and lost, unsure if I could ever face the world again without feeling disgusted by who I had become.
Shortly after my secret was revealed, I sought out a counselor specializing in gambling addiction. Our discussions revolved around the ups and downs of recovery. She emphasized that part of healing involves confronting the pain rather than masking it with addictive behaviors. She cautioned me that my feelings of shame might intensify before they improved.
And indeed, they escalated. My shame transformed into a part of my identity. The emotional turmoil was unbearable; I hadn’t truly acknowledged my feelings in years. This time, I couldn’t escape through gambling.
One night, overwhelmed with despair, I found myself in a dark room, clutching a bottle of wine and a container of sleeping pills. I felt like a despicable human being—someone who had lied and stolen. I stripped away any redeeming qualities until all that was left was darkness, suffocated by humiliation.
With each sip and each pill, I succumbed to despair. I wanted to escape it all.
But the next day, I awoke—not to death, but to a monumental hangover. I knew I had to confront my demons, and the motivation came from the unconditional love shining in the eyes of my two teenagers. They didn’t see me as the wretched person I believed I was; they saw their mother.
That afternoon, I returned to my counselor. Now, I carried not only the weight of my addiction but also the shame of having attempted to end my life—a selfish act no loving mother would contemplate. She encouraged me to write, saying, “Write until the tears stop, and then keep writing.” Her advice resonated deeply.
When I got home, I poured my heart out on paper. Tears flowed as I crafted a letter to my younger self, a 4-year-old girl who felt trapped in a hell of her own making:
If I could speak to you now, I would assure you that everything will be alright. You may not see it, but you will overcome this. You’re not to blame for what’s happening. He is not worthy of your silence. You want to be free, to play outside, yet fear holds you back. Remember, you are strong, and you will endure.
I continued to write, pouring out my emotions without hesitation. Many women facing addiction have experienced trauma, and for me, expressing my pain through writing has been a source of strength. It has allowed me to realize that I am not alone—not just in my battle with gambling but also with the trauma that I had no control over.
With every word I write, I find peace within myself. I will never return to the person I was before my addiction; that’s a certainty. Recovery is indeed a journey of taking it one day at a time. Writing has become a cherished part of my life, a healthy alternative to the time I once spent in addiction. While others may find solace in exercise, painting, or volunteering, I have chosen to write. Celebrate your own recovery achievements, whatever they may be.
Through writing, I have found the strength to move beyond the shame that could have consumed me. It has granted me the freedom to forgive myself. Today, I recognize that writing has played a crucial role in my recovery, alongside my counseling sessions. It offers me confidence, joy, and a renewed belief in myself.
Thus, writing has not replaced my addiction—it has been a vital part of my healing journey.
For more insights on overcoming challenges, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination and explore this informative article about influential figures in the endometriosis community. Additionally, if you’re interested in home insemination, you can find helpful information in our post on the at-home insemination kit.
Summary:
Writing became my lifeline as I navigated the complexities of addiction and shame. It provided me with an outlet to express my pain and begin healing, proving to be a powerful tool in my recovery journey.