With support, he rebuilt his life, and today he’s using his lived experience to help others feel understood and supported in their own recovery.
How it started
I’m a second-generation Chinese immigrant and the first person in my family to experience gambling harm. Growing up, gambling wasn’t something that featured in our lives. No one in my family gambled regularly, and there was no history of addiction. Because of that, there were never conversations about the risks or potential harms — not out of neglect, but simply because no one knew.
Some of my earliest memories of gambling come from going to my local sports club for dinner with my family. I remember walking past poker machines, noticing the bright flashing lights and constant sounds. At the time, they felt normal — just part of the environment. No one ever spoke about what those machines could do or how harmful gambling could be.
If you’re unsure how gambling harm develops, you can learn more about gambling here. Fast forward about ten years to my 18th birthday. In my friend group, it was tradition to go to the casino and play $50 on roulette. I lost that $50 faster than I could finish my drink. I left the casino that night feeling disappointed, not seeing the enjoyment in gambling, and I promised myself I would never gamble again.
For a while, that promise held.
Three years later, at 21, I was introduced to online sports betting. My friends and I were big sports fans, and placing small bets made watching games feel more exciting. When our teams played each other, betting added another layer to the rivalry.
If you’d like to understand the different ways people begin gambling, you can read about common pathways into gambling. There are also practical tips on avoiding risky gambling to help you keep safe. Seeing money appear digitally on a screen didn’t feel the same as using cash. It felt more like a game than money I had worked hard for. That disconnect made it easier to keep betting. Around that time, I moved away from home to attend university. I was in a new environment, away from my family and old friends. Even though my betting was still relatively small, it didn’t sit right with me, so I kept it secret. Gambling became something I did alone.
If any of this feels familiar, you can explore the early signs of a gambling problem.
Reaching a breaking point
After graduating university, I landed my first full-time job. It was fully remote due to COVID-19, and this was when my gambling began to escalate.
For the first time, I was earning more money than I ever had before. At the same time, I was isolated at home. Slowly, my bet sizes increased, and I began gambling more frequently. Money I would normally have spent on socialising, eating out, or hobbies went instead to gambling.
During a lonely and difficult period, gambling felt like the only thing that offered relief or distraction. By the time restrictions eased and life began returning to normal, my gambling didn’t slow down — it had already taken hold.
What weighed on me most wasn’t just the gambling itself, but the constant lying. I lied to my family, friends, and coworkers to keep my addiction hidden. I was always managing stories, covering gaps, and living with the fear of being exposed.
During this time, I was promoted at work and later moved companies into a better role. Each increase in salary strengthened my belief that I could keep up with my gambling. I couldn’t.
After seven years of untreated addiction, everything collapsed. In an attempt to cover debts and continue gambling, I committed a crime. The day my lying and theft were exposed was the day I placed my final bet, in August 2024.
The months that followed were extremely difficult. I was facing legal consequences and telling the full truth to my friends and family for the first time. The shame was overwhelming. At the same time, there was a sense of relief. After years of living a double life, everything was finally out in the open.
If you’re experiencing a similar situation, you can read more about resolving legal challenges or managing financial difficulties.
Asking for help
Being exposed forced me to confront the pain I had been numbing with gambling. For the first time, I was able to access real support.
I began therapy to better understand what had drawn me to gambling in the first place. Therapy gave me a space to speak openly and honestly without judgment. It helped me recognise that gambling wasn’t the core issue — it was the coping strategy I relied on when I didn’t know how to manage difficult emotions.
At my family’s encouragement, I also began gambling counselling through my local GambleAware service. I cannot speak highly enough of this program. It is free, communication was prompt, and my counsellor genuinely cared about my wellbeing. Feeling understood and supported made a significant difference.
I handed control of my finances over to my family and self-excluded from all online betting platforms through BetStop. These steps were confronting, but they gave me the safety and structure I needed to focus on recovery.
The first year was extremely challenging. I had to sit with the consequences of my actions and slowly rebuild trust with my loved ones. While the support from my family, friends, therapist, and counsellors was invaluable, I still felt alone at times. No one in my immediate circle had lived experience of gambling addiction, and I struggled to feel fully understood.
That changed when I came across a podcast featuring someone sharing their gambling recovery story. They spoke about how Gamblers Anonymous helped them feel less isolated. I decided to attend a meeting.
I was so nervous that I walked in and out of the room three times. Eventually, someone placed a hand on my back and said, “It’s okay, mate. I know you’re nervous, but you’re in the right place.”
I listened to people share their stories — people from different backgrounds, with different experiences. I realised that gambling addiction doesn’t discriminate. Everyone’s journey is unique, but there is comfort in being understood.
If you’re looking for a place to connect, you can join the Gambling Help Online community forum to talk with others who understand.
What recovery looks like for me now
Today, I have been gamble-free for over a year and a half. Recovery hasn’t been quick or straightforward, but every day feels a little easier — largely because I no longer face it alone.
Recovery for me means honesty. It means staying connected through therapy and Gamblers Anonymous, being aware of my emotions, and asking for support when I need it. I’ve learned that recovery isn’t just about not gambling — it’s about rebuilding trust, developing healthier ways to cope, and learning to sit with discomfort rather than escape it.
If you’re looking for support in rebuilding your relationships, you can read more here. You can also explore strategies to help you stay busy and find enjoyable activities outside of gambling.
I continue to actively work on my recovery, and I’m grateful for the support around me. Sharing my story is part of that process. During my darkest times, I wish I had spoken up sooner, even if it was just to one person. I know now that support is available and that people want to help.
If you’re reading this and recognising parts of your own experience, know that you’re not alone. Help is available, and recovery is possible.
You’re not alone
Reaching out for support can feel daunting, but it’s one of the most important steps to rebuilding your life. If you’d like to talk to someone about your gambling, you can chat to us online or call 1800 858 858 – free, 24/7, anywhere in Australia. Support is here whenever you’re ready.
