So this is daily topic post 100 each under a different film title. When I started listing topics to write about they are of course to get my own thoughts out but I did want to cover some topics I am passionate about but not in a place to write them. So two experts have come to my rescue and todays post and tomorrow have been written by them.
For this post, many of you know that my son is non-verbal autistic and has ADHD. He is unlikely to ever gamble but I am aware of the correlation and really wanted to talk about this. So I am honoured that an expert in the field has written the following answering my questions. She is based in Canada but gambling is gambling and I can't mention her name on here.
1. When were you diagnosed with autism and ADHD?
I was diagnosed with autism and ADHD as an adult at the age of 35. After receiving my diagnosis, I kept it private for 26 years and did not share it with others. In many ways, I held onto this secret even longer than my struggle with gambling because I had spent most of my life feeling different and worked very hard to make sure others did not see those differences.
At that time, I did not feel safe revealing my diagnosis or fully expressing who I was. It wasn't until I finally shared my truth with my family and embraced my authentic self that I experienced a profound sense of freedom and self-acceptance. Living openly has allowed me to feel more connected to who I am and has given me a sense of identity and peace that I had never experienced before.
2. How has this affected you in life outside of gambling?
Living with autism and ADHD has impacted many areas of my life, both in challenges I face and strengths I have developed.
One of my biggest challenges is navigating social situations. I often find social interactions exhausting, especially in-person group meetings, large crowds, or situations where people are physically close to me. These environments can create significant anxiety and leave me feeling overwhelmed. Unfamiliar situations are particularly difficult because I like to know what to expect. I prefer having a clear plan and understanding exactly where I am going and how I will get there. If plans change unexpectedly or things do not go as anticipated, I may feel so overwhelmed that I abandon the situation altogether and return home.
Sensory sensitivities also play a significant role in my daily life. I can become overwhelmed when there is too much activity, noise, or stimulation around me. Certain fabrics are uncomfortable for me to wear, and some food textures are intolerable. For example, I cannot eat tofu because of its texture, and I am very particular about food preparation. If food intended for me is handled in a way that feels uncomfortable—such as someone using their hands in a shared ingredient bowl—I may no longer be able to eat it.
When I am uncomfortable, anxious, or overstimulated, I engage in self-soothing behaviours known as "stimming." For me, this often involves rubbing my thumb and finger together in a specific way. If stress and overwhelm become too intense, I can eventually shut down completely.
At the same time, autism and ADHD have given me strengths that have benefited me throughout my life. I am extremely visual and can often see things spatially in ways that others cannot. For example, I can look at a piece of furniture and a space and know whether it will fit without needing to measure. I also naturally recognize patterns that others may miss and have a strong ability to assess risk and identify potential problems before they occur.
My thinking style can be very focused and intense. When I become interested in a new project, task, or hobby, I often immerse myself completely, researching and learning everything I can. While this allows me to develop deep knowledge and expertise, it can sometimes lead me down what I jokingly describe as a “deep rabbit hole.”
Like many people with ADHD, I struggle with executive functioning, procrastination, and decision-making. I may delay tasks that feel uncomfortable, unfamiliar, or overwhelming because I fear making mistakes or choosing the wrong course of action. I can also find myself overthinking, underthinking, or occasionally acting without fully thinking something through. Despite these challenges, I have been very successful in my professional life by intentionally developing strategies that help me build confidence and make decisions effectively.
Emotionally, I have often struggled with self-esteem and feelings of being "less than" or disappointing others. I tend to seek reassurance and may repeat things in conversation as a way of confirming that I have understood correctly or that what I am doing is appropriate.
I also have a very strong sense of fairness, ethics, and right and wrong. When I see situations that feel unjust or unreasonable, I can become deeply affected by them. Because of this, I am mindful about limiting my exposure to situations or information that I know will leave me feeling overwhelmed by perceived unfairness.
Although autism and ADHD have presented challenges throughout my life, they are also an important part of who I am. They have shaped the way I see the world, solve problems, understand patterns, and approach life. Learning to understand and accept these differences has helped me develop greater self-awareness, confidence, and compassion for myself.
3. What are your coping strategies, and does anything help?
Over the years, I have developed a number of coping strategies to help manage the challenges associated with autism and ADHD. I generally describe my experiences as falling into two categories: “overload” and “overwhelm.”
For me, overload is a state of frustration—either with myself, other people, or a situation—that can trigger intense emotions, anger, or the urge to shut down. Overwhelm, on the other hand, occurs when everything coming at me at once becomes too much to process. Sensory input, stress, emotions, expectations, and daily demands can build up until I reach a point where I can no longer effectively cope.
Managing overload is something I have worked on extensively with the support of skilled therapists. One of the most effective strategies I have developed is maintaining open communication with my husband about my current stress level and how close I may be to reaching overload. Over time, I have learned to recognize the early warning signs within myself and acknowledge when my emotions are escalating.
When I begin feeling frustrated, I use grounding techniques and try to objectively analyze the situation. I ask myself whether the problem is based on an emotional reaction, whether immediate action is necessary, or whether I can set the issue aside and revisit it later with a clearer perspective. This process helps me separate the feeling from the facts and prevents me from reacting impulsively.
Overwhelm can be much more difficult to anticipate and manage. Sometimes I can recognize the warning signs if I am paying close attention to how I am feeling, but often it seems to happen suddenly. A single comment during a conversation or a seemingly minor action by a family member can become the tipping point after a buildup of stress, emotions, sensory input, and frustration. It can feel as though a switch has been flipped.
When this happens, I experience a shutdown. My ability to process information, communicate, or respond to additional stimuli becomes extremely limited. From my husband's perspective, I may appear to be staring off into space, engaging in self-soothing behaviours such as stimming, and unable to participate in even simple conversations. Sometimes these episodes are brief, and I can recover within a few minutes. Other times, I need to withdraw to a quiet space for several hours, where I can focus on a simple task and gradually regain my sense of balance.
I have also learned that managing sensory stimulation is an important part of maintaining my well-being. There are days when I feel particularly sensitive to my environment and more vulnerable to becoming overwhelmed. Even activities that many people consider routine, such as Zoom meetings, can be challenging.
For example, the movement of participant windows as people turn their cameras on and off can be visually distracting and overstimulating. To reduce this sensory input, I often avoid looking directly at the screen or adjust my view so that I am not seeing the full gallery. Meetings can become especially difficult when participants are walking, moving around with their cameras on, or when several people speak at the same time. My strong need for structure, organization, and predictable patterns means that interruptions, overlapping conversations, or a lack of respect for established meeting norms can be particularly frustrating and draining.
Through conversations with others who share similar diagnoses, I have learned that many of these experiences are common. Knowing that I am not alone and continuing to develop practical coping strategies has helped me better understand my needs, advocate for accommodations when necessary, and approach challenging situations with greater self-awareness and confidence.
4. How did you find gambling, and what did it feel like?
My gambling began following a highly traumatic event during what I often refer to as my “first life”—the period of my life before I found recovery. At that time, I was carrying an enormous emotional burden while still trying to move forward and provide for my daughter. My husband was away for work much of the time, and although he was physically present when home, he was not in a position to provide the emotional support I desperately needed.
I vividly remember the day everything changed. I was at work when I looked around and was overwhelmed by the thought, “I can’t do this anymore.” I felt like I was carrying so much pressure that I was about to explode. I was exhausted by the trauma, the responsibilities, and the constant feeling of being overwhelmed. More than anything, I wanted relief. I wanted time to rest, heal, and recover.
At the time, taking time off work seemed impossible because it would mean losing income. In that moment, winning money through gambling appeared to offer a solution. If I could win enough money, I could take time off work and finally have the opportunity to heal. Gambling felt like a potential escape route from a situation that seemed impossible to manage.
This was before online gambling was widely available, and I did not live near a casino. My gambling began with scratch tickets. On that first day, I went to eight different locations and purchased scratch tickets. While I do not remember exactly how many tickets I bought, I do remember spending nearly $1,000 and winning only $5.
What stands out most from that day was the desperation. I was searching for a way out and hoping that one of those tickets would provide it. Instead, I was left with the realization that I could not escape my circumstances as easily as I had hoped. I felt lost, hopeless, and trapped, yet I still felt obligated to keep going for the sake of my family.
Despite that experience, I bought more scratch tickets on my next payday. Looking back, I can see that this was the beginning of a pattern—not only of gambling, but also of hiding financial decisions and gambling-related activities from my husband.
I also remember the powerful emotions that gambling created. While scratching those tickets, I felt an intense sense of excitement, anticipation, and hope. Each ticket felt like it could be the one—the one that would solve my problems and give me the freedom and relief I desperately wanted.
Later, when I discovered online gambling, I was drawn to slot machines because they created the same feeling. Watching the reels spin and waiting to see where they would land generated that familiar rush of excitement and possibility. For a brief moment, gambling allowed me to escape my reality and focus entirely on the hope of a better outcome.
When I was gambling, it felt like wrapping myself in a warm, comforting blanket. It provided temporary relief from the pain, stress, and overwhelm I was experiencing. At the same time, it offered a powerful—but ultimately false—sense of hope that a permanent solution to my problems was just one win away. In reality, gambling was not solving anything; it was simply masking the pain while creating new problems of its own.
5. How would you describe the relationship between autism, ADHD, and gambling?
Looking back with a better understanding of my diagnoses, I now recognize that having Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), along with traits associated with ADHD and OCD, significantly increased my vulnerability to developing an addiction. Research has shown that individuals with these diagnoses are at a much higher risk of experiencing addictive behaviours, and gambling can be a particularly appealing outlet because it aligns with several characteristics commonly associated with these conditions.
For me, many aspects of my autism and ADHD became intertwined with my gambling addiction. For approximately 80% of my 20-year addiction, I was an online slot machine gambler. My attraction was not simply to gambling itself, but to the patterns, predictability, and sensory experiences that specific games provided.
I was drawn to particular slot games because of their graphics, sounds, themes, and predictable structure. I had three favourite games that I returned to repeatedly. In fact, if I discovered a new online casino and it did not offer one of my preferred games, I often would not play there at all. Looking back, I can see that my need for familiarity and predictable sensory input played a significant role in shaping my gambling behaviour.
Another factor was my tendency toward intense focus and problem-solving. Throughout my life, I have been someone who becomes deeply committed to finding solutions. Once I identify a problem, I can become completely absorbed in solving it, investing whatever time, energy, and effort is required. My children used to joke that I was “like a dog with a bone” when I set my mind to something because I simply would not let it go.
Unfortunately, my addiction exploited this characteristic. Gambling created financial, emotional, and personal problems, and at the same time, my addicted thinking convinced me that the solution was to continue gambling. I genuinely believed that a win would somehow fix the damage caused by previous losses. My natural drive to solve problems became trapped in a cycle where I was relentlessly pursuing a solution that did not exist.
In many ways, gambling fed on traits that are also some of my greatest strengths. The same ability to focus intensely, recognize patterns, and persist through challenges became redirected toward chasing wins and attempting to regain control of a situation that was steadily becoming worse.
Today, however, I see the other side of that story. The same determination, focus, and commitment that fueled my gambling addiction have also become some of my strongest assets in recovery. The persistence that once kept me trapped in addiction is now what helps me continue moving forward one day at a time.
I am particularly grateful for that ability to focus deeply and commit fully to a goal because it has played a significant role in my recovery journey. That same characteristic has helped me achieve and maintain milestones of 23 days, 10 months, and now more than five years in recovery. What once contributed to my addiction has ultimately become one of my greatest strengths in sustaining my recovery and building a healthier life.
6. Do you think there could be any changes made in the industry to help neurodiverse people avoid becoming addicted?
Absolutely. In fact, I believe there is a significant gap in how the gambling industry recognizes and responds to the unique risks faced by neurodivergent individuals.
This belief is not based solely on my personal experience—it is supported by research. Studies suggest that neurodivergent individuals, particularly those with ADHD and Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), face a substantially higher risk of experiencing gambling-related harm than the neurotypical population.
Some of the statistics that stand out to me include:
When viewed together, these numbers suggest that many neurodivergent individuals enter gambling environments already carrying an elevated level of risk. Yet gambling platforms are generally designed without considering how neurodivergent brains process reward, stimulation, focus, and decision-making.
From my perspective, the industry does not currently do enough to protect people who may be particularly vulnerable to gambling harm.
Modern online gambling platforms are specifically designed to maximize engagement through features such as continuous play, rapid betting cycles, immersive graphics, sounds, and variable reward schedules. For individuals with ADHD, these elements can be especially powerful because they directly engage dopamine pathways associated with attention, reward-seeking, and impulsivity. The result can be a strong drive to continue playing despite mounting losses.
For autistic individuals, the risk can look different but be equally significant. Many autistic people are naturally drawn to patterns, structure, predictability, and repetition. Electronic gambling products often provide exactly those experiences through recurring game mechanics, familiar sounds, visual cues, and mathematical patterns. These features can encourage hyperfocus, making it extremely difficult to disengage from play, even when substantial losses are occurring.
In addition, characteristics commonly associated with ADHD and autism—such as impulsivity, difficulty with executive functioning, challenges with emotional regulation, and struggles with assessing long-term consequences during periods of stress—can make it much harder to manage finances and make objective decisions while actively gambling.
Because of these factors, I believe there is a strong case for the gambling industry to develop protections specifically designed with neurodivergent individuals in mind. This could include enhanced education about risk, more effective tools for limiting play, greater transparency about game design features, and stronger safeguards around prolonged or intensive gambling activity.
At this stage, however, I do not personally feel that neurodivergent individuals are adequately protected by the industry. That is one of the reasons I am so passionate about advocacy, education, and raising awareness. My goal is not only to share my own experience, but also to help others understand that neurodivergence can significantly increase vulnerability to gambling harm and that greater awareness is needed to better support those who may be at risk.
If we truly want to reduce gambling-related harm, we need to recognize that a "one-size-fits-all" approach to player protection is not enough. Understanding the unique needs and vulnerabilities of neurodivergent individuals should be an important part of that conversation.
7. What have the different stages of your recovery been like without the stimulation of gambling?
Because of my neurodivergence, I approached recovery with the same intensity and determination that I had previously directed toward gambling. Once I committed to recovery, I became fully focused on learning everything I could about how to stay free from gambling and build a healthier life.
In early recovery, I listened carefully to people who had more recovery time than I did. I believed that if they had found a way to live without gambling, they likely had valuable wisdom to share. I took their advice seriously and made a genuine effort to put their suggestions into practice. I was willing to do whatever it took to recover.
One of my standing jokes about those early days is that if someone had told me I could achieve successful recovery by walking backwards for the rest of my life, I would probably still be walking backwards today. While humorous, the statement reflects how committed I was to finding a way forward. I was determined not to return to gambling, regardless of what was required of me.
Recovery without the stimulation of gambling has not always been easy. There have been shaky moments, difficult days, and challenging weeks. There have been times when life felt overwhelming and uncomfortable, and I had to learn how to sit with emotions rather than escape from them. I no longer had gambling as a way to numb stress, avoid difficult feelings, or create a false sense of hope.
What made the difference for me was the support system I built around myself. Having a recovery community, trusted people to talk to, and a foundation built on honesty, transparency, and accountability provided me with the tools I needed to keep moving forward. Those relationships helped me through the times when recovery felt difficult and reminded me that I did not have to face challenges alone.
Over time, I learned that recovery is not always a straight path. Sometimes it is a long and messy process of working through life's challenges one step at a time. There are still difficult moments, but I have developed healthier ways to cope with them and a greater understanding of myself.
The most important difference is that, regardless of how hard things became, gambling was never an option. I made a commitment to recovery and continued to move forward, even when the road was difficult. Today, that commitment, combined with the support of others and the lessons I have learned along the way, continues to be the foundation of my recovery journey.
8. Have you been easily addicted to anything else?
My autism, particularly the tendency toward hyperfocus, can create a level of intensity that often resembles addiction when I become interested in a hobby, project, or new pursuit. When something captures my attention, I can become completely immersed in it, dedicating significant amounts of time, energy, and focus to learning, researching, and engaging with it.
This pattern has shown up repeatedly throughout my life. Whether it is a new hobby, a personal goal, a work-related project, or a topic I want to understand, I tend to dive in deeply and pursue it with an all-or-nothing approach. While this intense focus can sometimes be a strength and help me develop expertise or accomplish goals, it can also become overwhelming if left unchecked.
Over time, I have learned that I need structure and boundaries to keep that hyperfocus from taking over. One strategy that helps is creating a clear list of what is actually necessary for a project, hobby, or task. I identify the essential items, actions, or steps required and make a conscious effort to ignore the extras that can easily become a distraction or obsession.
Learning to distinguish between what is necessary and what is simply feeding my hyperfocus has been an important skill. It allows me to enjoy my interests and benefit from my ability to focus deeply while maintaining balance and preventing them from consuming more time, attention, or resources than they should.
9. As a message of hope, how would you describe your life today?
If you had asked me during my gambling addiction whether I believed the life I have today was possible, I would have said no.
For many years, I lived carrying secrets, shame, fear, and the constant belief that I was somehow different, broken, or not enough. I struggled with trauma, addiction, undiagnosed neurodivergence, and a relentless sense that I needed to hide parts of myself from the world. Life often felt like something I simply had to survive rather than enjoy.
Today, my life is very different.
Recovery has given me something gambling never could: peace. Not a perfect life, not a life without challenges, but a life built on honesty, self-awareness, and genuine connection. I no longer spend my days chasing an escape from reality. Instead, I have learned to live in reality, even when it is difficult.
I have also learned that my autism and ADHD are not things I need to hide or be ashamed of. Understanding how my brain works has allowed me to replace self-judgment with self-compassion. The very characteristics that once left me feeling different—my focus, determination, honesty, pattern recognition, and persistence—are now strengths that help me navigate life and support others.
My relationships are stronger because they are built on transparency rather than secrets. I have a supportive husband, a recovery community, and people in my life who know the real me. That alone is a freedom I cannot adequately describe.
Perhaps most importantly, I have found purpose. By sharing my story, advocating for awareness, and helping others who struggle with addiction or neurodivergence, I am able to transform some of the most painful parts of my past into something meaningful. If my experience helps even one person feel less alone or seek help sooner, then those difficult experiences have value.
Life is not always easy. I still experience overload, overwhelm, anxiety, and the challenges that come with being neurodivergent. The difference is that today I have tools, support, and hope. I no longer face those challenges alone, and I no longer believe that gambling is the answer.
My message to anyone who is struggling is simple: recovery is possible. No matter how trapped, hopeless, ashamed, or overwhelmed you feel, change can happen. It may not happen overnight, and the journey is rarely straightforward, but a better life is possible.
I know because I am living it.
Today, I am not just surviving. I am living honestly, authentically, and with gratitude. For me, that is what recovery truly means.
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