Wrest Point Casino Buffet

Long time lurker, first post.
I tend to be more of an observer than a participator, but I did want to share a little of my story.
I never would have figured myself for a compulsive gambler. I grew up fairly poor, certainly knowing what it was like to do without but still getting by. In time, and with great difficulty, I got educated (BS, MS degrees). Even managed to find a six-figure job. I thought that was my great struggle in life, wresting myself from the clutches of poverty, and I got through it! I was now even pretty good at budgeting/saving money, and, after finishing my master's, here I am making $100,000/year. Not wildly rich, but certainly comfortable. Life is pretty good at this point. And then I found gambling.
I had parents who gambled. Quite a bit, it turns out. I had even been with them to the casinos a time or two when I was a teen (going to the buffets). I thought the slot players looked like zombies. Fast-forward several years later, and I'm living in Houston, making occasional round trips on I-10 to visit family, when one day I decide to stop at a casino in western Louisiana. I had gambled a few times here and there, but this was...different. What began as a random break from driving home one day morphed into me giving every last free dollar I had to this place for the next few years. It's like watching a horror movie, starring me. Or a dream. A nightmare I could never wake up from. I had become one of the zombies I vividly remembered from childhood. Throughout that time, now still, I intimately understand why those people looked so catatonic. Every person I had known who was addicted to something, and every time I wondered why they couldn't just power up and walk away, now I knew. I've eaten that forbidden fruit too. Slots became my obsession. It's knowledge you don't want anymore but can't un-know.
In truth, I'm not sure why I'm 180 days clean at this point. There is no catastrophic turning point, no one thing that prevented me from ever returning to the casinos. I left Houston. Thought that might help. But I moved to an area to which casinos were even closer. I started frequenting them. After years of chasing losses, countless threats of never returning, numerous day 1's, I silently resigned and promised to shift my life closer to something I want it to be. Maybe it was February. I went on a trip to run a half-marathon through some wilderness, something akin to a spiritual trip for me. On the way home, I stopped at a casino. My old casino. Lost the last $300 I had. Wasn't even upset. Just numb the rest of the trip home. Six-figure job and I didn't even have money to stop and grab a burger, and the austere beauty of the weekend trip, the soul-nourishing adventure from which I was returning, was already a dull memory. I was fully aware of the dichotomy of the trip. I'd like to say it was my last casino visit, that the awareness of how much gambling was really robbing me of was enough to shake me loose of its grasp, but I went twice more. I lost a total $20 the first trip, and $6 the second. Both trips ended because I couldn't stomach losing anymore. And that's it. Maybe it was an awakening. Hopefully my last trip ever, out with a whimper. And I'm absolutely okay with that. For all the times I've thought I would win back every last dollar I'd ever lost in one night, then flip the casino two birds Kenny Powers-style on my way out the door, for every time I've felt like something was owed to me and destiny was going to bring it to my doorstep in my casino swan song, reality is that it's not going to happen. And maybe I don't want it to happen. Maybe that leaves the door a little too open, makes it a little too easy to return.
I haven't joined GA yet. I think I will soon. I've been too reclusive about this. And a little fortification can make you stronger. 180 days has surprisingly not been difficult (overall), but I'm still close enough to the fire to sweat. There are certainly days I have to allow the urges to wash over me and let them pass. Once I even got dressed to go, only to plop down on the couch and let the moment pass. For now, the stories people post here have been inspirational and familiar. It's amazing: All these feelings you think are unique, felt by only you, and then you read someone else's post and it reads like a biography.
Here's what 180 days has felt like for me: I have seen my stress levels drop to a fraction of their former selves; I have told myself I hate myself much less; I have quit saying I hate my life and began to think that maybe it's not so bad; the two things I wanted to happen through gambling, debt reduction and savings increase, have both occurred in the absence of gambling. Amazing. I do struggle thinking about the money I've wasted, but I've gotten better about accepting that it's gone. I now try to view it as payment for an education, on an equal plane with the money I paid for college.
I really do wish anyone struggling with this the very best. It's a mountain we're all climbing, looking for the downhill side. A sport that's easier with team support. My friends, family, they all know. It helps to be able to talk about it. Reading stories on here helps. Writing this post is a little cathartic. If you're trying to escape gambling's grasp, please keep climbing. Soon you'll be high enough it can't reach you.
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TL;DR - Gambling sucks. Avoid it at all costs if possible.