This article is based on an interview with a 35-year-old man who is in recovery for gambling addiction. We have removed or changed some details to protect his identity. Parts of the story have been edited for clarity and brevity.

If I had to put a number on how much I’ve lost gambling, I’d say it’d be $150,000 over the last 20-odd years.

It started at a young age. My dad loved horse racing, but he wasn’t a big gambler himself — the biggest bet he’d put on would be $5.

On Saturdays, we’d go to the races together. It was something I looked forward to doing with my dad. From the time I was about 16, bookmakers on the track were happy to take my bets. They weren’t going to ask for my ID or anything.

When I was 18, I started with online betting.

As I got older, and the responsibilities kicked in, and I was earning more money, that’s when the gambling picked up.

I’ve never been very good with any sort of confrontation in my life. When anything bad happened, I’d use gambling as an outlet. It’s moreso in recovery that I’ve realised that: it’s almost like I didn’t want to grow up.

Warning: This story talks about suicide.

Living with gambling addiction

I think it’s hard for people to understand compulsive gambling if they haven’t experienced it themselves.

I can have one or two drinks and know to stop, but as a gambling addict, I can’t have one or two bets. It’ll turn into me betting all day and night.

Five hours could go past in the click of a finger. I’d have friends messaging me or try to call me and I wouldn’t take their calls because I was in that bubble.

I wouldn’t eat during those days. I’d even forget about my children and what they were doing.

Now that I’ve been to recovery, I can understand that — I can’t gamble at all.

What the gambling ads on TV don’t tell you

For me, all the gambling was done on apps on my phone.

You’re doing it on your own: you don’t want anyone to know, because you know that what you’re doing is wrong and you’ve got a problem. There’s a lot of secrets and lies.

When I was losing, my mind went straight to how to find more money to win it back.

I’ve manipulated people to loan me money; I’ve borrowed from banks; I’ve used those same-day loans where you borrow $300 and you’ve got to pay back $1,000.

A couple of years ago, my partner and I were in the process of building our first home together and I was taking the savings to gamble.

You’re not thinking about the consequences down the track. It’s just, ‘I need to do it and I’ll do whatever it takes.’

It got crazier the more I earned.

I’ve got a full-time job and I’ve never been unemployed. I was managing a team of people and I still found time to gamble all day, every day. I’d still go to meetings and function somehow at work, to the point where no-one even knew.

I’d be in meeting rooms on my own, and have one ear on the meeting and one on gambling.

They sell it to you, saying you’re in the top five per cent or 10 per cent of customers this month, but it’s just turnover — they just want you to keep coming back.

Hitting rock bottom

About a year-and-a-half ago, I tried to take my own life.

But that still wasn’t rock bottom for me. I tried psychologists and I tried hypnotherapy. I’d go a month, or two months, or three months without a bet, then something would happen and I’d go back to it.

It wasn’t until August last year when my partner found out that I was gambling again and confronted me. She was basically out the door.

The next day, I went online and found Gambler’s Anonymous and I was invited to a Zoom meeting.

I just remember sitting on that Zoom, not knowing anyone on there, and breaking down. I was just a mess.

I was trying to explain what happened and I couldn’t even speak because I was so distraught. I thought my world was gone.

How I found hope

Straight after that meeting, I had a call from the program coordinator. He asked me to come to the next meeting in person. I’ve been going every Tuesday since then.

I found it so helpful to hear people’s stories about recovery and what their gambling life was like. You sit there and you think, ‘It’s someone else telling my story.’

You’d hear your own story 20 different times in the night, 20 different ways.

In those meetings, it was almost like the weight lifted off my shoulders. I felt safe; I could tell my story; I could say anything ad no-one was going to judge me.

You see that the program works, and that’s why you keep going back.

Life without gambling

The hardest part is that initial step: putting up your hand and admitting you need help. It still gets me quite emotional thinking about that moment for me.

It feels like I haven’t had a bet for years and years, but it really hasn’t been that long. I’m up to 204 days. It’s not a long time, but it’s very different to any other time I haven’t had a bet.

It’s amazing when you’re not thinking, ‘Shit, how am I going to get money to make up for what I’ve lost today?’ ‘How am I going to hide this from my partner?’

I sleep better, I eat better, I’m healthier, I’m a better father, I’m a better partner.

Life’s really good without gambling.

Are you or a loved one struggling with gambling? There are a range of free resources and online treatment options that can help.