Steps 8 and 9: The Hardest Part of Recovery

In any recovery programs there are typically twelve steps to the program: 

1. We admitted we were powerless over gambling - that our lives had become unmanageable. ✅
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to a normal way of thinking and living. ✅
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of this Power of our own understanding. ✅
4. Made a searching and fearless moral and financial inventory of ourselves. ✅
5. Admitted to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. ✅
6. We're entirely ready to have these defects of character removed. ✅
7. Humbly asked God (of our understanding) to remove our shortcomings. ✅
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all. ⭘
9. Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. ⭘
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it. ✅
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out. ✅
12. Having made an effort to practice these principles in all our affairs, we tried to carry this message to other compulsive gamblers. ✅

 

If this was a test, I would barely be passing at 83 percent. But it's not. It's real life. 

 

One of the hardest parts of recovery is coming face to face with the damages done to other individuals we truly care(d) about the most. Over the past 580 or so days, I've had to face the uncomfortable truth about myself and take full responsibility for the lies, hurt and broken trust I left as a result of my past life. This is especially true for someone I still very much love. 

 

Step 8: Make a list of all persons we had harmed. 

 

There only will ever be one person that comes to mind. I lied, not always but I lied, nonetheless. I lied about my gambling, how much I was in debt and how bad my addiction truly was. I lied about how I was feeling, telling her I was fine when I was not. I did not want to face reality most days because I knew exactly where it would end up. At first, the lies were small, quick excuses to cover up my shame. But soon, they became heavier, suffocating the very connection that mattered most.

 

Step 9: Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. 

 

I wish I could tell her in person, but I also know, I am the last person she ever wants to see again. If you have this opportunity to make amends in person, do it. Don't take the cowards way out and write about it for others to see. Or do and try to make it sincere as possible.

Making amends is more than saying “I’m sorry”; it’s about showing through action that we take responsibility for our behavior and are working to change. I owe her more than a hollow apology—I owe her honesty and accountability. While I can’t undo the harm I caused, I can take steps to ensure I never repeat those mistakes.

 

"****** (Name redacted for obvious reasons)—

There is no amount of apologies that can make up for the lies and trust I broke. You were nothing but the greatest woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing. I was too ashamed to admit my faults, so I kept hiding—hiding in the office, hiding from the truth, and hiding from you. I avoided confronting my addictive behaviors because deep down, I knew this was exactly where I would end up if I continued down that path. And yet, I did it anyway.

I let you believe things were okay, even when they weren’t. I never told you how devastated I was when I didn’t get into veterinary school. I carried that failure like a secret shame and tried to medicate the depression the only way I knew how—by hiding in the office, watching sports, and gambling money I didn’t really have. I’m deeply sorry for taking out loans just to pay off my credit cards, and then using those same cards to fuel my addiction. The weight of those choices is mine alone, but I know you carried the fallout, and that’s not fair.

You didn’t deserve any of this. You deserved my honesty, my vulnerability, and my trust—things I should have given freely but withheld out of fear and pride. For that, I will always regret what I did.

I miss you, Zinnia, and Dolly. I miss the life we shared and the future I selfishly threw away. I know that an apology won’t bring any of it back, but I hope this honesty can bring some small measure of peace, if not for us, then at least for you. 

I love you."

What I’ve Learned

Steps 8 and 9 have taught me that true healing requires courage. It requires us to confront the damage we’ve caused, no matter how painful it may be, and take meaningful steps to repair it. Apologizing to the people we’ve hurt does not guarantee forgiveness, but it allows us to release the burden of shame and guilt that we’ve carried.

I’ve also learned that making amends is not a one-time act; it’s a lifelong commitment to living differently. For me, that means continuing to work on my recovery, being honest with those around me, and sharing my story so others know they aren’t alone.

To the woman I love, and to anyone else I’ve hurt along the way: I hope my actions moving forward can be a better apology than any words I could write.

If you’re struggling with gambling addiction and feel overwhelmed by the damage it’s caused, know this: recovery is possible. Steps 8 and 9 are not easy, but they are a path to healing, both for yourself and for the people you care about. Start where you are, be willing to face the truth, and take things one step at a time.

We can’t change the past, but we can learn from it—and we can build a better future.

Stay grinding, stop gambling. Life gets better. One day at a time.