I am consumed with thoughts of slots and spinning. ..and getting lost in them. To try and combat this I’ve down loaded some non gambling games to my phone such as Panda Pop of all things ….In the hope that they will distract my brain instead. It works to a point….until some voice tells me. ..”This is boring. ..there’s no money involved here”….so I lose interest. …then the temptation comes back. …but I’ve closed my account and have no money anyway. . Which is in a bizarre way a blessing.
So. ..anyway. ..go round the boyfriends house last night. He cooked me another dinner, which was sweet of him. And then we get onto the subject of money and what the bank have said about him paying my mortgage arrears so that I can save my house. Or he can. …more like. I told him that, as predicted, they told me payment must come from a card registered at my address. I asked them how silly will they look in court when it comes to light that they have refused to accept payment, so after much discussion she agreed that he could pay if we arranged a password and other security issues. So. ..I’m telling him all this. ..and he says “Ok. ..we’ll go do it now. …ring them up”… I said they close at 5.30. …The next thing you know he says. …
“If I transfer the money into your account will you promise me you’ll pay them first thing in the morning? ”
Well. ..from the bottom of my being I screeched like a woman possessed at him: “No!!!!! Do not give me any fkn money! !!!!!!!!!” (It came out with such force I think I frightened the life out of him! )
And yet the majority of me was already fighting back telling me to let him and secretly planning when I could play with it.
And this is my house we’re talking about. ..and the kindness of another human being. …there is no limit to how evil this other thing inside me is.
So. …After he’d recovered from my outburst. ..He said he’d ring them himself. Then I felt an overwhelming loss…..and secretly inside was sulking that he’d denied me my play time.
Because believe me. ….had that money gone in my account at eight o clock last night, it would be gone again by now.
I don’t think he’s fully grasped the severity of my illness.
I’m writing all this because when I read it back it scares me when I see what I’ve turned into. I can’t believe it’s me I’m writing about.
