Three in the morning can find you awake, lost in thought. Maybe you’re ruminating about a work situation or relationship. Maybe insecurities creep in.
About 12 years ago, the insomnia I suffered stemmed from a problem spanning all the above. Despite excelling as a learning consultant, I couldn’t solve or will my way through this issue alone.
Like 250,000 Minnesotans, I was grappling with a gambling addiction and needed help. While I found resources through my employer, for others, a significant knowledge gap and stigma persists. Today, as a professional who coordinates program development and continuing education, I’ve found gambling disorder remains a growing, underdiscussed issue meriting greater awareness in the Twin Cities.
I first sidled up to blackjack and craps, and played video poker with my older brother. The activity captivated me, and I subsequently moved from Winona to New Mexico for graduate school to study how casinos leverage non-verbal manipulation.
The proximity to Vegas proved alluring. Thesis research trips morphed into hours of gambling. My occasional wins stacked up — as did the red flags: lashing out at a girlfriend after a string of losses; slamming my hand onto the table when a dealer pulled an unexpected 21; and regularly driving 45 minutes to play. My colleagues and friends knew me as an even-headed, rule-abiding person. They also didn’t know about my gambling. Like any addiction, gambling addiction boils down to faulty wiring: Those with a gambling disorder have less activity in the brain’s reward hub, which can push behavior to uncharacteristic extremes.
When I returned to Minnesota, gambling became a secret escape from high-pressure jobs and parenting a child with autism and medical needs. I turned to slots, falling into the trance-like “dark flow” to rein in worries.
My routine mirrored a grim Superman comic. Instead of a phone booth, I changed in a roadside bathroom to avoid bringing telltale smoke home. Casino trips became both part of my commute and workday. I fabricated full-day meetings on my calendar that were jaunts to Mystic Lake. The hiding rolled into an expanding number of credit cards and consolidated loans. This combination of minimum payments, mounting lies, outfit changes and spritzes of Febreeze eluded everyone.
After many fitful nights, I knew I was in too deep. A call to my employer’s Employee Assistance Program set me up with a counselor. While I had a few slips, talking to someone guided me to recovery. However, my wife still didn’t know; I was terrified that she was going to divorce me and get custody of our kids, then 4 and 2.
Several weeks later, over the buzz of evening TV, my wife point-blank asked what was wrong. It spilled out. Her initial fury and shock softened into a sliver of relief. “I figured you were cheating on me,” she shared. I’ll never forget her face as I explained how gambling impacted my career, our finances and our family. To this day, I’m not sure why she stuck with me, but we managed to muscle through a few years of tight budgeting and we’re still together.
Minnesotans have an opportunity to reshape the narrative and broaden public knowledge around gambling disorder. In my work today, I see gambling disorder questioned as a legitimate addiction. Yet almost two-thirds of Minnesotans placed a bet last year. And we know only 20% of individuals with a gambling addiction ever seek help.
There are two big things we can do. One, share the signs and symptoms of problem gambling. You don’t need to be a confidante or an addiction expert. Just know the free, confidential statewide resources to point someone or their loved one toward help. (Call 1-800-333-HOPE or text HOPE to 53342). Two, if your business or organization has access to an Employee Assistance Program (EAP), share these resources with a note about problem gambling. Remember that an EAP can be used securely without consequence for behavioral addictions, including problem gambling. Such a call can be a lifeline. It was for me.Problem gamblers hail from all industries. Some have never stepped foot in a casino, preferring online apps. Others, like me, have spent over 20 years dabbling in games in a gradual decline before we hit bottom. On the whole, we are dedicated employees, loving spouses and engaged parents working to hold ourselves accountable for our mistakes and make our communities better. It’s incumbent on Minnesotans to help support these journeys.
Jeff Hudson is a learning and organizational development consultant. He is also board president of the Minnesota Alliance on Problem Gambling (MNAPG), a nonprofit, gambling-neutral organization dedicated to improving the lives of Minnesotans affected by problem gambling.
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