(Written on a Thursday evening while there’s still sunlight outside—what a difference that makes.)
So here I am, Thursday night, windows still letting in daylight, and instead of spinning, I’m sitting down to write this. Something’s been on my mind lately—and maybe it’s been on yours too: why do people always assume gamblers are terrible with money?
Seriously. It’s like the moment someone finds out you play slots or place a few bets online, their tone changes. The eyebrows go up, the vibe shifts, and suddenly, you’re mentally placed in a box labeled “irresponsible.” Never mind that you pay your bills, show up to work, and manage your life just fine. Once the word “gambling” comes up, you can practically hear the internal judgment humming like background static.
What’s worse is, no one wants to talk to us about money. Financial gurus are out here teaching everyone how to budget, save for retirement, build wealth—unless you’re a gambler. Then suddenly, it’s radio silence. As if we’re not worth the effort. Like we’ve already failed the financial purity test.
And because of that? Most gamblers don’t talk about money at all. We keep quiet. We hide the deposits. We downplay the sessions. We stay silent—not because we’re ashamed of what we enjoy, but because we’re afraid of being judged. No one wants to be seen as reckless or out of control. So instead of getting support, we bottle it up. We manage the highs and lows alone, even though a lot of us are just regular people who happen to love a little thrill now and then.
I’ve been gambling for a long time. I’ve seen what it looks like to lose control—and I’ve seen what it takes to keep a clear head. There’s nothing casual about gambling when it starts creeping into places it shouldn’t. That’s the reality. It can take over, if you let it. And I say that not to scare anyone, but to tell the truth.
But here’s the other side of it—you can be a gambler and still have your financial life together. It’s not either/or. It’s not a choice between “quit gambling forever” or “go broke in silence.” You can have balance, you can have boundaries, and you can absolutely enjoy a few spins without losing your grip on the wheel.
For me, gambling has never been about chasing money. It’s entertainment. That’s the mindset I bring to every session: this isn’t my income, this isn’t my solution, this is just my version of fun. Same way someone else might go golfing, binge a new series, or buy yet another kitchen gadget they’ll never use. I gamble. And I treat it like a hobby, not a hustle.
Of course, I’ve had to learn some things the hard way. Like knowing when to log off, even after a loss. Or resisting the urge to deposit “just a little more” because I almost hit the bonus. There were times when I let it take up too much space in my life. But I always came back to one truth: I’m the one in charge here. The game doesn’t control me—I control how and when I play.
You don’t need someone else to tell you when enough is enough. You know. Deep down, you always know. But it helps when you stop hiding from it. When you stop pretending it’s no big deal, or that it doesn’t affect your mood, your money, or your peace of mind. That’s where the strength is—not in quitting cold turkey, but in showing up honestly and making intentional choices about how you play.
And let me say this, because no one else is saying it: gamblers deserve financial education too. We deserve tools, not judgment. We deserve to be talked to, not about. We’re not reckless fools who can’t be helped—we’re just people who happen to like a little rush of adrenaline every now and then. That doesn’t make us less smart, less capable, or less worthy of support.
I’ve worked. I’ve saved. I’ve budgeted. I’ve also deposited on a Sunday night when I probably should’ve gone to bed. But I’ve never accepted the idea that gambling gets to run my life. And you don’t have to either.
You’re in the driver’s seat. Whether you play once a month or once a day, you’re the one making the choices. And if something feels off—if it stops being fun and starts feeling heavy—that’s your sign to slow down, reassess, and maybe put the game away for a bit. Not forever. Just long enough to find your balance again.
Tonight, I’m not spinning. I’m just sitting here, writing this, looking out the window and realizing how far I’ve come. There was a time I might’ve been chasing a bonus round right now. But I chose this instead. That’s what mindful gambling looks like. It’s not perfect. But it’s intentional.
And maybe that’s what we need more of—not shame, not silence, but a space where gamblers can be real, talk money, and support each other without fear of judgment. Because we’re not broken. We’re just people trying to have fun without falling apart.
So yeah, I’m a gambler. And I’m pretty damn good with money.
Let’s change the conversation.
– Caleb Rensai
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