My Path to Redemption

This is what the end stage of a gambling addiction looks like.

I was alone in a tiny apartment in a suburb of St. Louis, Missouri. On TV, the football team I had bet on was about to lose. Not even the point spread was going to save me. That bet was the last of my money. I was broke.

The apartment was bare except for a couch, a bed, the TV and a bookshelf with some books about gambling and a black leather Bible I’d never opened. I’d sold or pawned everything else.

The air reeked of cigarettes. I was 29 years old. I’d been gambling since high school. Believe it or not, I worked at a casino, dealing poker.

I’d been through countless rehabs. Declared bankruptcy. Alienated family and friends. Even put my dog in the pound once so I could go to an out-of-state casino. (I ran out of gas on that trip, bounced a check