Client Case Study – Julie’s Story

This is the story of Julie*, a 55-year-old divorced Ipswich professional who turned to gambling to support her adult children under the rising pressures of the cost of living.
With a hefty debt and a heavy heart, Julie reached out to the Gambling Help Service for help. Through consistent counselling, she has found support and understanding, practical skills, and most importantly, hope for her future.
Client’s name has been changed to protect her anonymity.

Julie* is a 55-year-old woman living in Ipswich, Queensland. She’s divorced and, up until recently, lived in an apartment in Ipswich city with one of her adult sons who she supports financially.

She’s unable to work due to a severe mental illness, receiving a modest disability pension that doesn’t cover his medication and other living costs.

Due to a significant increase in rent, Julie and her son could no longer afford to live in their apartment, so they moved in with her elderly mother in her home outside the city.

Julie now spends much of her limited free time assisting with her elderly mother’s housework and maintenance around the property.

Julie’s other adult son is married with two children. With his wife studying and interest rates increasing, they can no longer afford their mortgage repayments, so Julie financially contributes to the family wherever she can.
“They’re really struggling with the rise of interest rates, petrol, and groceries,” Julie explains.

“I don’t want to see them go down the gurgler, because they’ve worked so hard for what they have. So I chuck a bit of money their way each fortnight.”

While Julie makes a reasonable income in her 80-hour-per-week career, the rising cost of living and pressure to support her family led her to turn to gambling to supplement her income. But this left her in thousands of dollars of debt – and in a deep depression.

Pokies are Julie’s go-to, but gambling wasn’t always a way to make money for Julie. It started as an escape; something to pass the time while she was bored and to distract her during her divorce.

“When the gambling started, it wasn’t so serious,” she explains.

“About 10 years ago, when I divorced my husband, I’d hit the pokies out of boredom maybe once a fortnight. It was all sweet. But after a few years, it started getting worse.”

Gambling was no stranger to Julie growing up, as her father gambled regularly. “My dad would come home and say he’d spent all his money on the races. I was brought up in that environment,” Julie says.

Julie’s gambling increased about three years ago when she was struggling with her own mental health. Feeling numb and losing interest in the hobbies and activities she normally enjoyed, Julie found herself on the pokies regularly.

“It would be so bad that I’d be planning around payday how I’m going to get to this hotel and that hotel,” she explains.

What started as a bit of casual entertainment to beat boredom turned into an escape for Julie to feel something during her severe mental health struggles.

“I get heart palpitations when I’m around [the pokies]. It’s a real kick. It’s the dopamine and serotonin stuff going on.”

With everyday necessities becoming more and more expensive, and the strong desire to support her sons through their own tough times, Julie hoped gambling would provide some financial relief. But she found herself chasing her losses and getting even deeper in debt.

“It just escalated,” she explains.

“I started taking out loans, which I’m still paying off. I even borrowed money off a friend. I took these loans out thinking if I just went a bit more, I could help my family, and it’d take the pressure off me. It just never did. It just put me on a treadmill.”

But despite her constant losses and climbing debt, Julie couldn’t stop hitting the pokies in the hopes that a big win was just around the corner. Her desperation to help her family fed her daily urges to gamble.

“My son said he’d love to buy his wife an Apple Watch for Christmas, but he couldn’t come up with a grand,” Julie explains.

“I had money in the bank I could’ve just handed over. But I thought, ‘Let’s go to the pokies and see if I can win him the thousand.’ I lost everything over Christmas.”

For years, Julie kept her gambling a secret. She turned to the internet to seek stories from other people who gambled, but struggled to find them. This made her feel even more ashamed and alone.

“Gambling is not like alcoholism or drug addiction. You can physically see those,” Julie says.

“I call it the secret – the dirty little secret. And I think it’s because of the stigma around it.”

After another big loss left her feeling like she’d hit rock bottom, Julie decided to call the Gambling Helpline. And she was surprised by the response.

Julie expected a quick call from a phone operator who would take some details and palm her off to the “real” help. But that initial conversation felt like a weight off Julie’s chest as the compassionate Gambling Help Counsellor created a safe space for Julie to open up about her experience with gambling harm for the very first time.

“I didn’t really know what’s involved when you ring the Gambling Helpline, but that initial lady was fantastic,” Julie explains.

“We talked for about half an hour. She was asking me questions like she really cared. I felt connected to her.”

Julie didn’t feel rushed. She didn’t feel judged. She felt understood. She felt relieved. And she felt hope for the first time in years.

From here, Julie attended in-person counselling sessions with her Gambling Help Counsellor, Tara.

Julie made a pact with herself to tell all. She knew that for counselling to truly make a difference, she had to be honest with her counsellor – and herself – about her gambling.

“Thanks to counselling, I’m seeing how gambling has affected me,” Julie says.

“I was blind – it just had me in a web. And I think it’s because I’m able to share that with my counsellor, and I’m able to say anything I need to say and get it out on the table.”

Through regular counselling, Julie was able to address her gambling and explore the underlying issues that were negatively impacting her life.

“My counsellor is a great listener. She’s empathetic, down to earth, and she offers really sensible feedback,” Julie says.

“I feel like I can talk to her about anything, and she doesn’t judge. She digs deep. She’s like my mirror. She helps me dig stuff up that I didn’t even think about.”

For the first time, Julie felt like she had the tools she needed to change her gambling habits for good.

After years of secrecy, Julie has also opened up to her family about her gambling. They have been supportive of Julie’s journey and have contributed to keeping her accountable.

“I was worried about my family finding out, but I’ve finally told them,” Julie says.

“I said, ‘I’ve got a gambling problem. I’m going to get help. I’m starting counselling.’ And it just gave me so much relief to not hide this anymore. I’m over hiding it.”

Julie wants her story to help other people suffering from gambling harm to not feel alone or ashamed. She wants people to know this is more common than they might think, and help is available.

“You’re not alone in this hidden environment – in this hidden torture chamber,” she says.

“It’s all fun and games while you’re gambling, but when you have to face the repercussions for the next week or until you get paid, it’s torture. It’s not worth it.”

Julie encourages more open conversations around gambling harm to help reduce the stigma and secrecy. She hopes this will help others feel more comfortable opening up about their struggles and reaching out for help when they need it.

Julie credits her counsellor for giving her hope at the lowest point in her life; a time when she didn’t think she had a future worth living.

“When you go home from counselling, it gives you hope,” she says.

“On the way home, you feel like an energy has shifted. Something’s been shifted, and you have hope.”

Julie now attends counselling once a week and is dedicated to building a happier, healthier future free from gambling harm.

“Counselling keeps me in the mindset that I’m on this healing journey,” she explains.

“I’m taking it a week at a time, and I know I’m not cured. But I can see what damage it’s done in my life, and I’ve just decided that I’m moving forward. I’m not living in that past anymore.”