Gambling: The Forgotten Addiction

There is an addiction you can carry in your pocket.

It doesn’t smell of alcohol.

Doesn’t leave needles behind.

And doesn’t necessarily change the way somebody walks, speaks or behaves.

Sometimes it just looks like somebody sitting quietly on their bed, staring at their phone.

And by the time anyone realises there is a problem, the money may already be gone.

The addiction we don’t always see

Working in supported housing means becoming familiar with addiction.

Alcohol, Heroin, Crack cocaine, Prescription medication.

We learn the signs. We recognise changes in behaviour. We notice when somebody appears intoxicated. We see bottles accumulating in a room or paraphernalia that raises concerns.

Gambling can be different.

There may be nothing physical to find, no smell.

No obvious intoxication, no evidence left behind except perhaps an empty bank account.

Yet the damage can be enormous.

The latest Gambling Survey for Great Britain shows just how normalised gambling has become. In early 2026, almost half of adults surveyed had gambled within the previous four weeks. Online gambling is now accessible from something most of us carry everywhere: our phone.

For most people who gamble, that will never develop into serious harm.

For some, it can become devastating.

And in supported housing, I wonder whether we talk about that enough.

When benefits arrive and disappear

Frontline workers often become familiar with the rhythms of people’s finances.

You sometimes know when somebody’s benefits are due without ever seeing their bank account.

Perhaps they buy food, maybe they clear a debt or they lend money to somebody else.

It could be that substances become more readily available.

And sometimes the money simply seems to disappear.

Within days, occasionally within hours, somebody who has just received their income can be asking for help with food or electricity.

It would be easy to describe that as poor money management.

Sometimes it probably is, but what if it isn’t?

What if the money hasn’t simply been spent?

Or it has been lost?

And what if the person losing it genuinely believed, right up until the final bet, that the next one might put everything right?

That is one of the cruellest parts of gambling harm.

The thing causing the financial crisis can present itself as the solution to it.

Lose £50 and perhaps another £50 will win it back.

Lose £100 and perhaps one good result fixes everything.

Until eventually the aim is no longer to win.

It is to recover what has already been lost.

A phone can become a casino

There was a time when gambling required going somewhere.

A bookmaker, a casino, an amusement arcade.

Those places still exist, of course.

But now somebody can gamble without leaving their room.

They can wake during the night and gamble or while waiting for an appointment.

Gamble while sitting in a communal lounge.

They can gamble moments after money enters their account.

That creates a challenge for services.

Because how do you notice something that can happen silently behind a screen?

A person struggling with alcohol may eventually show physical or behavioural signs.

Someone gambling online could sit opposite you during keywork and appear completely sober, calm and engaged.

Their phone might be in their pocket.

And their financial situation could be collapsing.

The shame after the loss

There is another reason gambling can remain hidden.

Shame.

Admitting that you spent money on alcohol or drugs may already be incredibly difficult.

But imagine explaining that the money you needed for food has disappeared because you believed you could double it.

Then imagine saying the same thing next month, and perhaps the month after that.

People experiencing gambling harm may lie about where money has gone.

They may borrow, avoid conversations about finances, become isolated.

Chase losses.

They may feel ridiculous for having believed that this time would be different.

From the outside, it can look irresponsible.

And from the inside, I suspect it can feel like desperation.

Those are not necessarily the same thing.

Gambling and homelessness

We should also be careful about assuming gambling only becomes relevant once somebody is homeless.

Government evidence on gambling-related harm has identified gambling-related debt as an important harm capable of contributing to relationship problems, mental and physical health difficulties and housing problems, including homelessness.

That matters.

Because homelessness rarely has one neat cause.

A relationship may already be struggling.

Mental health may already be deteriorating.

Debt may already exist.

Employment may be insecure.

Alcohol or drugs may already be involved.

Gambling can sit among all of those things.

It may accelerate an existing crisis, becomes a way of escaping one.

Perhaps somebody sees a large win as the impossible solution to rent arrears or debt.

And perhaps, eventually, another part of their life collapses.

When that person reaches supported housing, gambling may therefore be more than something they happen to do.

It may be part of the story of how they arrived.

What are we looking for?

This is where I think supported housing needs to ask itself an uncomfortable question.

Are we as curious about gambling as we are about substances?

When somebody repeatedly has no money shortly after being paid, what do we ask?

If somebody begins borrowing from other residents, do we only see the debt?

Suddenly someone becomes secretive about money, do we ask what might sit behind that?

None of those things proves somebody has a gambling problem.

And we should never turn curiosity into assumption.

But perhaps gambling needs to become part of the conversation.

Not:

“Are you wasting your money gambling?”

But:

“I’ve noticed you’re struggling financially quite quickly after you’re paid. Do you know where the money is going?”

And, when appropriate:

“Is any of it going on gambling?”

The difference matters as one is judgement.

The other is curiosity.

More than money

It is tempting to think of gambling harm primarily as financial.

But money can be only the most visible part.

The Gambling Commission describes adverse consequences across resources, relationships and health. Its research has found that harms often overlap rather than occurring neatly in isolation.

That makes sense.

Debt creates stress and stress affects mental health.

Secrecy damages relationships, borrowing creates conflict.

Conflict can lead to isolation.

And isolation can create another reason to escape into gambling.

A financial problem can become a relationship problem.

A relationship problem can become a housing problem.

A housing problem can become homelessness.

Human lives rarely fit neatly into categories.

Neither does addiction.

The person behind the bet

As with every addiction, understanding does not mean removing responsibility.

People still make choices.

Money still has consequences.

Rent still needs paying.

Debts still need addressing.

Other residents still need protecting if borrowing becomes coercive or exploitative.

But accountability and compassion do not have to be opposites.

Perhaps the useful question isn’t:

“Why did you do that again?”

Perhaps it is:

“What was happening just before you did?”

Were they bored? Lonely? Anxious? Trying to escape?

Trying to recover previous losses?

Trying, however unrealistically, to solve a financial problem?

What did the bet represent at that moment?

Because if we only focus on the money that disappeared, we may miss the reason somebody pressed the button.

Recovery from something nobody noticed

Supported housing rightly spends enormous amounts of time thinking about substance use.

Naloxone, Overdose, alcohol withdrawal.

Drug-related safeguarding, treatment referrals.

Harm reduction.

All of that matters.

But perhaps there is another addiction sitting quietly alongside them.

One without bottles, without needles.

Without smoke.

An addiction capable of damaging finances, relationships, mental health and housing while remaining almost completely invisible to the people providing support.

Maybe gambling isn’t the forgotten addiction.

Perhaps it is simply the addiction we haven’t learned to see as clearly yet.

And if supported housing is really about seeing the person behind the behaviour, perhaps sometimes we also need to look at the behaviour hiding behind the screen.