Gambling
‘I lost £20m gambling and my marriage has never recovered’
The lives of the super wealthy may seem, from the outside, to be envied.
But for those brought up in the opulent world of trust funds, elite boarding schools and holidays to private Caribbean islands, their privilege often comes at a hidden price.
For Edward Benson*, 55, an artist, that price was roughly £20 million, which he lost after becoming addicted to high stakes gambling.
Benson would blow up to £500,000 a night, and ended up facing threats from casino bodyguards over debt, and contemplating suicide.
Experts warn that he is far from alone, as the number of those gambling increases each year.
“I came from a wealthy family, and my father taught me how to play blackjack and poker when I was a child,” he says. “He could gamble in moderation, but for me, as soon as I turned 18, my drinking and gambling were out of control.”
By the time Benson was 25, he had racked up a bill of £250,000 at a casino. The owners, he explains, began getting “pushy”. This took the form of subtle psychological pressure, where the presence of casino bodyguards added to the sense of intimidation.
Scared, he asked his father for the money. His father paid it, limited his access to family money, and then sent Benson to a treatment centre to get help.
For 15 years, Benson then managed to stop drinking and gambling. He also managed to build a career, meet his wife and have three children. But in his 40s, both his parents died, leaving him with a huge inheritance.
“I started online gambling in secret,” he says. “Just £50 or so. No one can see you so it feels harmless.
“But the small amounts soon didn’t give me a rush anymore so I’d bet £10,000, then £20,000.
“Then I went back to casinos, and soon found myself regularly sitting at high-stakes poker tables with a £500,000 buy-in on the table.”
In total, Benson, who lives in London, lost £20 million from gambling, which was all the savings he and his wife had. “My family knew about my history with gambling, so I had to do everything in secret,” he says. “I travel a lot for work, so I would usually add an extra few days so I could spend them at casinos or poker tables.
“It got to the point where losing would provoke panic attacks, and winning would also provoke panic attacks because I knew that meant I would go back. My wife soon noticed the dramatic changes in my mood; if I had won big, I would come home elated, and if I had lost, I would feel so horribly guilty.
“She assumed I was having an affair, but when I came clean to her about what I was actually doing after another fight, the betrayal she felt was immense; we are still trying to navigate it all these years later.”
After confessing what he was doing, Benson sought help at Paracelsus Recovery, one of the world’s most exclusive therapy retreats nestled on the shores of Lake Zurich, Switzerland.
Costing roughly £100,000 a week, its clients include top FTSE executives, royals, and heads of state seeking help for a range of conditions and addiction. Among them are people like Benson – high-rollers who might think nothing of blowing millions in a night.