You may well have read stories like the powerful one linked below, but it’s still a very good example of family dynamics during the progression of a gambling disorder. It first appeared on the ESPN sports website earlier this week.
We are broken’: One family’s fight against gambling addiction
A dramatic increase in gambling disorders has been mostly among younger gamblers, especially the under 18 and 18-25 age groups. Their involvement usually begins with small wagers on games and sporting events, but then escalates, often rapidly. Though it can be difficult to predict who will become addicted, I’ve noticed that some of the most unlikely candidates nevertheless wind up in treatment, with remarkably severe gambling addictions.
Clinicians often separate problem gamblers into two broad categories:
Action Seekers: These folks are attracted to gambling by the aura of excitement around the experience. They may be aware of the risk involved, but are confident in their own ability to ”beat the odds,” either because of native intelligence or their acquired skills.
When they win, they interpret this as evidence of their superior know-how. When they lose, they view it as an aberration, a temporary setback, to be overcome with renewed enthusiasm.
That makes them vulnerable to the syndrome known as chasing your losses, defined as continuing to gamble as losses mount, perhaps betting ever larger amounts in an effort to win back money already lost.
“When I was on a losing streak,” admitted a recovering gambler, “I would feel like the next play was bound to be a win. I felt I was due. ” It’s a common misconception that somehow repeated failures are a harbinger of eventual success.
They aren’t. If anything, a string of losses suggests that more may be on the way.
Escape gamblers: this second type has a lot in common with the subset of SUD patients who began using substances for temporary relief from pain or stress. That pain can be physical or emotional, chronic or acute, but it’s the priority on “fast, effective relief” — I sound like an aspirin commercial –– that is the hallmark of the escape gambler.
Of course, as with substance disorders, all gambling eventually becomes escape gambling — except now, escape from the consequences of gambling itself.
“Looking back,” a woman confessed, “I had reached a point where I felt like if I stopped placing bets, everything would come crashing down on my head at once. But somehow, if I kept on betting, I could postpone disaster, at least for a little bit longer.”
”Was that madness?” she asked. I think I just nodded.
