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I knew who I was at six years old and it wasn’t the person the world rewards. This might sound abstract, but stay with me. When I was six or seven, I used to watch an old cartoon called Jem and the Holograms . It was about two rival bands. One was polished, admired, everything the world celebrates. The other, The Misfits; were louder, rougher, a little chaotic. And in that second group, there was one character who didn’t quite fit. Her name was Stormer. Stormer was in the “b

Last night, I did something I had been avoiding for a long time, I reached out to a friend I met in Gamblers Anonymous in 2024. On the surface, it may not sound like much, but for me it felt enormous, because what I was really doing was beginning to release something that no longer served me. For a long time, I had carried the weight of my gambling quietly the financial damage, the emotional toll, the frustration of trying to untangle everything after the fact. When I reached

Disclaimer:  This post references sexual assault, trauma responses, medical triggering, and gambling relapse/urges. I do not always add content warnings, but I believe in taking a gender-based violence-informed approach and understand that these topics may be difficult for some readers. All 10 of you :) I don’t want to go into every detail. But years ago, in a back room of a restaurant, an older man sexually assaulted me. I never told anyone. Not my friends, not my family. I

Do No Harm And after the dust settles, what remains? The brain. Do you remember that commercial from way back when? “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs.” The fried egg. The pan. The warning. Now ask the harder question, What happens when the thing acting on the brain is not a drug in the usual sense? What happens when it is gambling? I live in Ontario, which apparently makes me something of a rare gem: someone willing to say out loud that gambling addiction is no

It’s been 6 hours and 32 minutes since I placed my last bet. Call it alcohol. Call it the machine. Maybe it was both. My body couldn’t handle the booze, and the machine won. I’m not a robot, but for a brief moment, I became one. Numb. Automatic. Programmed by impulse. Moving without thinking, like I had handed myself over to something cold and mechanical. A moment of silence for the compulsive gambler who suffers in silence. For the one who smiles in public and breaks in priv

Have you ever heard the story about David and Goliath? I mean really heard it. Not the polished version. Not the easy version. Not the one where the little guy wins and everybody goes home feeling inspired. I mean the version that feels true when you are standing in front of something bigger than yourself. Because with addiction, have you ever felt like David and Goliath? Have you ever felt like you were David? Small. Exposed. Tired.Human. Standing in front of something so mu

So… after a long hiatus, and zero and I mean zero F’s to give, I’m back. I kept this website alive on a wing and a prayer. If it gets shut down, well you know, I'm a broke ass recovering addict. Did I learn anything after the relapse of summer 2024? Nope. Well… actually, yes. I learned this addiction doesn’t just drain your bank account it ravages your brain and completely rewires it.(I’ll post more neuro-spicy content later.) Did I learn anything after spring 2025? Yes. T

In my family, there was an unspoken rule that governed much of my childhood: children were to be seen, not heard. It was an old-world philosophy, passed down through generations and deeply ingrained in our daily lives. My parents, each with their own burdens, had little patience for the noise and messiness that naturally comes with raising kids. My dad, with his strict upbringing in another country, believed in order and respect. He wasn’t a man of many words unless he had a

Growing up in the 1980s was like living in a different world compared to today. It was a time before the constant buzz of technology, before smartphones and social media took over our lives. Back then, life was simpler in some ways, but for me, it was filled with complexities that I was too young to fully understand. My sister was nine years older than me, and that gap felt enormous. When I was just learning to navigate the basics of childhood, she was already a teenager, dea

My mom, the epitome of control and perfection during my childhood, always maintained an impeccable image. Educated, functional, and...