I know today that I no longer have to proceed on my own. I’ve learned that it’s safer, more sensible, and surer to move forward with friends who are going in the same direction as I. None of us need feel shame at using help, since we all help each other. It’s no more a …
When we’re new in Gamblers Anonymous, we’re novices at reaching out for friendship—or even accepting it when it’s offered. Sometimes we’re not quite sure how to do it or, indeed, whether it will actually work. Gradually, however, we become restored; we become teachable. We learn, for example, as Molière wrote, The more we love our friends, …
Getting over years of suspicion and other self-protective mechanisms can hardly be an overnight process. We’ve become thoroughly conditioned to feeling and acting misunderstood and unloved—whether we really were or not. Some of us may need time and practice to break out of our shell and the seemingly comfortable familiarity of solitude. Even though we …
When newcomers to Gamblers Anonymous experience the first startling feeling that they’re truly among friends, they also wonder—with almost a sense of terror—if the feeling is real. Will it last? Those of us who’ve been in the Program a few years can assure any newcomer at a meeting that it is very real indeed, and that it does last. …
When I first listened to people in Gamblers Anonymous talking freely and honestly about themselves, I was stunned. Their stories of their own gambling escapades, of their own secret fears, and of their own gnawing loneliness were literally mind-blowing for me. I discovered—and hardly dared believe it at first—that I’m not alone, I’m not all …
The language of friendship is not words, but meanings, wrote Thoreau. Life indeed takes on new meanings, as well as new meaning in the Gamblers Anonymous Program. To watch people recover, to see them help others, to watch loneliness vanish, to see a Fellowship grow up about you, to have a host of friends—this is an experience not …
Compulsive gambling is a lonely disease; although it may have seemed that we were part of the lights-and-action crowd, we were often tortured by loneliness. Even before the end of our gambling days—before the debts and the guilt showed us how unmanageable our lives had become—nearly all of us felt that we didn’t quite belong. …
What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us, wrote Oliver Wendell Holmes. I was never able to look at what was within me until I came to Gamblers Anonymous and heard my story told. Then I no longer had my uniqueness to hide behind. What was more, the …
I considered myself a loner in the days when I was gambling. Although I was often with other people—saw them, heard them, touched them—most of my important dialogues were with my inner self. I was certain that nobody else would ever understand. Considering my former opinion of myself, it’s likely that I didn’t want anybody to understand. I smiled …
If we felt guilty, degraded, or ashamed of either our addiction itself or the things we did while in action, that served to magnify our feelings of being outcasts. On occasion, we secretly feared or actually believed that we deserved every painful feeling; we thought, at times, that we truly were outsiders. The dark tunnel of our lives seemed …