By Mark D., 43, Atlanta, Georgia
Comparing two recovery paths from real-world experience
When I finally admitted I had a gambling addiction, the first question people asked was: “Are you going to rehab?”
I don’t blame them. My life was a wreck. I had blown through nearly $25,000 in savings, missed two car payments, and was borrowing money from my brother while pretending everything was “just tight right now.”
I wasn’t sleeping. My work performance tanked. I couldn’t have a single conversation with my girlfriend without lying.
So yeah—on the outside, I looked like someone who needed to disappear for a while and reset. But I didn’t go to rehab. I chose therapy. And looking back now, three years later, I know that was the right choice for me.
When the Breakdown Became the Breakthrough
It was a Friday night. I had told my girlfriend I was “going to grab food.” What I actually did was sit in my car in a grocery store parking lot, gambling through a sports betting app. I lost $1,100 in an hour.
I went home with nothing. No food. No story. Just silence.
She looked at me and said, “You’re not okay, are you?” That broke me.
I said the words out loud for the first time: “I think I have a problem.”
That same weekend, I researched rehab centers. I read testimonies. Watched videos. But something didn’t feel like the right fit.
Why Therapy Made Sense for Me
Here’s what I realized:
- I wasn’t in physical withdrawal
- I wasn’t using substances or putting others in immediate danger
- But I was unraveling emotionally
- I did need someone to help me figure out why I kept gambling despite knowing better
So I found a therapist who specialized in behavioral addictions—especially gambling. I started meeting with him twice a week. No judgment. No “one-size-fits-all.” Just deep, honest conversations about patterns, shame, and pain.
He helped me unpack what gambling really was for me: a way to escape feeling not good enough. A way to control something when everything else felt out of control. He helped me name the real addiction: avoidance.
What Therapy Gave Me That I Needed Most
Therapy worked for me because it wasn’t just about stopping the behavior—it was about understanding it. It gave me:
- Structure I could stick to in real life
- Language for what I was feeling and why
- Tools to manage triggers and stress
- Accountability that felt personal, not punitive
And best of all—it helped me stay present in my actual life. I didn’t need to press pause on everything to heal. I could heal while living—while repairing relationships, working, and rebuilding my sense of self.
I’m not saying rehab wouldn’t have helped. For some people, it’s a literal lifesaver. But for my situation and my wiring, therapy met me exactly where I was.
The Real Work of Recovery
Don’t get me wrong—therapy isn’t a magic fix. There were weeks I wanted to cancel. Days I relapsed mentally (if not financially). Times I told myself, “You’re not really addicted. You’re just bad with money.”
But therapy gave me something rehab might not have: the power to show up for my healing, over and over again, right in the middle of my real-world mess.
And slowly, that mess started to get cleaner.
I tracked spending. Set up blocks on betting apps. Told my family the truth. I also cried more than I expected. Learned to sit in silence. Started journaling—reluctantly at first, then religiously.
What My Life Looks Like Now
I haven’t gambled in over three years. I still go to therapy monthly. Still keep my circle tight. Still call my brother when I’m feeling vulnerable.
My girlfriend and I are still together—and stronger than we’ve ever been. And my bank account? It’s not overflowing, but it’s mine. Stable. Honest.
More than anything, I’m proud of how clear my mind feels. I no longer need a high to feel alive. I just need truth, routine, and support.
To Anyone Choosing Between Rehab and Therapy…
You’re not weak if you don’t choose rehab. You’re not better if you do. Recovery isn’t about where you heal—it’s about how you show up for that healing.
Ask yourself honestly:
- Where can I commit to showing up?
- What kind of support do I need—emotionally, logistically, spiritually?
Whatever path you choose, just choose one. Don’t wait until the shame eats you alive. Don’t gamble your future on pride.
There is help. There is hope. You’re not alone.
Browse High Stakes Healing for conversation guides, support tools, and more stories like Mark’s.
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