I was given the number for a 36-day inpatient treatment
center. I called and talked to a woman who asked me
several questions about my gambling. I remember
thinking; this person probably thinks I am too far gone.
In the back of my mind I really thought there was no
hope for me. When I finished answering the questions she
told me there was no one who could talk to me right away
and that someone would call me in the morning. I felt
relieved and then disappointed. I thanked her and hung
up the phone. I suddenly regretted leaving my number.
While I was driving to the daycare center to pick up my
child, the phone rang. My heart started pounding and I
wanted to ignore the call. When I said hello, a man on
the other end started talking. I remember being scared
out of my mind and thinking, what happened to calling me
back tomorrow? What if they come get me?
I talked to the man, who identified himself as Tim, and
everything he said made perfect sense to me. But I came
up with many excuses for why I could not get help now. I
told him my children needed me here. His response was,
“You won’t be there for them if you die.” His answer
stung but I realized it was the truth.
I could feel myself giving up all hope of continuing
this life. The tears started to roll down my face as I
thought about leaving my family, and how my husband
would have to explain to the boys why their mother
didn’t want to live any longer. I told Tim I would have
to talk to my husband and call him back. I was putting
him off, hoping he would not call again. Talking to my
husband meant I had to confess I had been gambling. This
could mean the end of my marriage and possibly losing my
children. I had a sick feeling that I will never forget.
I wanted to die and at the same time wanted to live,
wishing I could somehow skip this part and move on as if
nothing ever happened.
