I looked like an ordinary grandmother of six – but I was hiding a secret so shameful it destroyed my life and landed me in jail

If you saw me on the street or in the supermarket you would assume what most do: that I am a normal grandmother.

But at the age of 73, I am ready to share with the world a secret that I kept from my friends and family for many years. a secret that It consumed every aspect of my life and ultimately saw me imprisoned for a shocking crime.

I was a criminal but also a victim of slot machines. It is the term we Australians use to describe the gaming machines found in casinos or pubs. I didn’t take my first ride until I was 50 years old. It started as mere curiosity. I never thought I would become addicted; After all, I was never a big drinker and it would never have occurred to me to touch drugs.

Still those damn machines spiraled into a deep gambling addiction that would destroy my life as I knew it and deeply hurt those closest to me.

It started with a few gaming sessions with friends in the various “lounges” near my home in Frankston, a suburb of Melbourne. Soon it was part of my routine.

It started as a weekly habit. I would head straight for the slot machines after finishing my 9-5 job in administration.

Within months, I found that I couldn’t go more than a day or two without sneaking into the RSL for a punt. I spent up to 60 hours a week glued to my seat while trying my luck over and over again.

The excitement of a possible big victory became the most important thing in my life. The next turn could be that. Just one more.

I sat in front of the attractive neon-lit machines as the hours passed. It wasn’t just entertainment, it instantly relieved the stress in my life. It was a shot of dopamine with every turn.

And I didn’t realize how much trouble I was in until I was too lost.

The seeds of my addiction were planted in 2002. I was 51, divorced and alone, so instead of returning to an empty house, I went out with colleagues and friends. As someone who had never been addicted to anything, the idea that slot machines could become a problem never even crossed my mind.

Since all my friends would be leaving, I would be the last one standing. At the end of a gaming session I found myself surrounded by strangers at an ungodly hour.

“You can never win at these machines,” I muttered to the players around me, as I mindlessly inserted another $50.

I’m ashamed to admit that there were times when the staff would kick me out at 3 in the morning before closing time. Maybe they felt sorry for me. If they hadn’t done it, I would have stayed there until the sun came up.

I would spend around $500 on each session. It didn’t seem like much to me because the small victories would cheer me up. The most I ever won was $2,000, but I never cashed it out. I just put it back in, desperately hoping for that elusive jackpot.

I would promise myself to get it all back next time. It never happened. With each loss my feeling of shame grew deeper; I was drowning.

Before I knew it, I had emptied my bank account and my savings were gone.

My depression deepened and I thought about suicide. After a particularly big loss, I felt a very real and terrifying urge to veer my car off the road and into a tree. The only thing that stopped me were my two children and six grandchildren.. I couldn’t leave them.

The scariest thing about all of this was that not once during all of this did I consider myself a gambling addict. Addiction didn’t happen to people like me..

So when I ran out of cash and started stealing money from my employer to feed my habit, it didn’t even seem like a big deal.

The scam was simple: He created fake business names and transferred company funds to me under the guise of ordinary invoices. because I drove finances, no one ever questioned it. I knew it was illegal but I planned to pay it all back with my next victory.

I was only surprised when someone looked closely at the books in 2015 and I received a call from the police that would change my life.

My brother and I went to the police station together and I stood there stunned as the officers detailed the severity of my crimes.

I had stolen $407,000 from my employer over seven years. I knew I had taken a lot, maybe $80,000, but not this.

That’s the other characteristic of gambling addiction: it not only robs you of your money, your friends, your career and your dignity, but also precious years of your life.

I had never done anything wrong in my life up to that point, not even a parking ticket. Then the thought of going to jail petrified me. This wasn’t me.

My family couldn’t believe it. They had no idea. But why would they do it? Not only was I lying to myself this whole time, but I was also lying to everyone around me. So you can imagine the reaction they had to this news.

My addiction made me a big liar. It was easy to find excuses for my absences and staying up late, especially since I was divorced and my children were busy with their own families.

Being told I was going to jail in 2016 was the scariest moment of my life. He was not cut out to spend life behind bars. The only thing that saved me was that my family, although completely shocked, supported me..

“Mom, you made a big fucking mistake, but we love you,” my oldest son told me.

Still, I will never forget the looks on their faces in court when the judge handed down my guilty verdict. It was the lowest moment of my life.

I was then taken downstairs to the cells and then transported by truck to the prison. The guards strip-searched me, something no sixty-year-old woman should experience. I showered and put on my prison clothes.

Prison is not like the movies. I had my own room, desk and television and food was delivered to me in small containers. I was in that first facility for two weeks before being transported to a “farm-type” women’s prison that focused more on rehabilitation and light labor.

In Australia, a farm prison operates with minimal security and focuses on providing education to inmates.

The hardest part wasn’t being away from the family, the harsh lifestyle or the food. It was learning to live with my fellow prisoners.

“Harder, older and dumber,” a young woman snapped at me during my first week.

“You have to learn to be tough if you want to survive here,” another mocked.

I didn’t know how to behave in prison. There is no guide to suddenly losing your freedom and finding yourself surrounded by fellow criminals.

I was behind bars for 18 months and during that time I had a counselor who taught me a lot about myself and my addiction.

He started me in exposure therapy where he brought a picture of a poker machine. I couldn’t touch the photo and when I looked at it I vomited from stress. Other inmates with gambling problems told me they had the same reaction.

You lose all your power of knowledge when you are addicted to gambling. You think you’re going to be fine and you think these machines can’t hurt you, but they do. It was necessary to go to prison to learn that lesson.

I used to blame myself for doing the wrong thing, but I’ve since realized that it wasn’t entirely my fault. The machines warped my brain; That’s what they are designed for.

About three-quarters of the women in my prison were there for gambling-related crimes. It’s a heartbreaking statistic, but it means I wasn’t alone..

When I was released, my first step was to return the money I had stolen. I did it using the inheritance that my father left me and my retirement. Now I’m left with nothing and I’ll be renting until I die.

But at least my life was back to normal. I had paid my debt to society and was a free woman.

I’ve only slipped once.

Last year, I walked into a place ready to bet, but luckily the staff recognized me and turned me away. I was furious with myself and burst into tears when a friend called me later that day. She reminded me not to beat myself up, but it was a sobering reminder that I had a lot more work to do.

Later, my counselor offered me some sage advice: “I want you to put a time limit on how long you’re going to wallow in your own self-pity.”

At first I thought it was a strange idea but I did exactly that. I cried for an hour that night, and as soon as the alarm went off, I was done.

My sadness instantly turned to anger. Anger at the gaming industry and those horrible machines that are designed to numb your brain and ruin your life.

They are programmed to make you think that all your problems are far away, when in reality they do the opposite.

The best way I have found to fill the void gambling leaves is to help educate others about this terrible addiction..

I speak at player events and perform as part of ‘Three Sides of The Coin’, a stage show designed to educate others about slot machines.

I know this will be with me for the rest of my life; The compulsion will never completely go away and I have to accept that. but now I am Aware of triggers and how to change my thinking.

I know I’ve made mistakes, but if I can use my story to stop what happened to me from destroying someone else’s life, then I will. continue talking.

My message is clear: if it happened to me, it really can happen to anyone. Even you.

If you need help, call the Player Helpline on 1800 858 858 or Lifeline Australia on 13 11 14.

• As told to Carina Stathis