Читать книгу The Problem Was Me - Thomas Ph.D. Gagliano - Страница 11

At this point, I realized I wasn’t gambling to win; instead, I was gambling to fill a void inside. The most significant part was finally realizing I would never be able to control my gambling addiction again. I could never gamble casually. Gambling had beaten me into submission. I surrendered and accepted defeat. I was soon back with my therapist who suggested I go to Twelve Step recovery programs and join a therapy group where he was a co-facilitator. This was the first time I realized I had to do the actions I was told to do, not necessarily what I wanted to do. Going to my first Twelve Step meeting was terrifying. I sat in the back of the room with an imaginary wall built around me, covered by layers of fear and shame. I permitted no one to get close.

I didn’t know then that these people saw right through this wall. They knew what my problem was long before I did. They knew me because they knew themselves. I was suffering from an illness called “uniqueness.” I truly believed that no one could ever understand how I felt inside. When I heard others expressing joy and laughter it was ridiculous to me. I asked myself, How could they be happy when their lives were so screwed up? When they hugged each other at the end of a meeting I felt uncomfortable. For months I could not shake a hand, let alone give someone a hug.

Not surprisingly, I made no connections with any of the people at the meetings. Nonetheless, I kept going. After a few months of going to meetings my wife asked why I never received phone calls from other people in group; she knew that this support was an important healing aspect of Twelve Step fellowships. “They were all ass kissers!” I responded. Beneath the exterior mask of false pride I was a shattered person who eventually realized that these people weren’t ass kissers at all. We were joined together because of our common feeling of profound pain. Eventually, I realized they loved and accepted me long before I loved or accepted myself. Once I understood this, I began to embrace the program. I finally allowed help into my life.

I discovered the hard way that complete abstinence from my destructive behaviors was essential for my healing. Without it, my self-hate would become overwhelming. I learned that I can’t be in the ring all day boxing with my addiction and expect to work on improving my relationships at the same time.

I continued to go to Twelve Step meetings, individual therapy, and group therapy. In meetings, the compulsive gamblers spoke about the huge amounts of money they lost. One elderly man said he lost more than everyone put together. He lost fifty years of his life to his constant working and gambling. He wasn’t around for his children as they grew up. He noticed he was absent in all of his children’s pictures. His comment stuck with me. While I realized the ways I was hurting others and myself through my actions, I never considered the experiences I missed with my family, experiences I could never get back.

Between group meetings, I began to make phone calls to other group members to encourage them. While doing this therapeutic activity, that inner voice was telling me this was a waste of time. As a result, it became increasingly difficult to pick up the phone to call people. I wrestled between the benefits of being in group and going back to my old habits and ways of thinking. I was actually grieving the loss of my compulsions as if I were grieving the loss of a loved one.

I never did go back to gambling, and I cut down on the hours I worked. On the surface, things appeared better. On the inside it was a different story. I was still ignoring the reasons why I felt so wounded and defective. While I was no longer medicating my feelings with work or gambling, I soon chose another destructive alternative to ease my pain.