I haven’t purchased a sports card since Saturday, February 22nd. That night is etched in my memory more than I’d like it to be. Over time, I started buying into high-end repack breaks—spots going for $2K to $4K a team. I’d regularly grab 4 to 10 teams in one go. Most of the time, I’d hit at least one decent card, which only fed the urge to keep going. The rush. The chase. The illusion of control. But on the night of February 22nd, everything cracked open. I came clean to my wife about just how bad my spending had gotten. I’d been lying to her for months about where the money was coming from. That night, she caught me in another lie, and the web finally collapsed. The next morning, I sat down with her and opened up my WhatNot history. What I saw was devastating. I had spent over $100,000 in breaks over just a couple of nights. That was the moment I knew I needed help. Since then, I’ve started attending Gamblers Anonymous. And while it’s been helpful, I still feel out of place. A lot of folks there don’t understand this specific type of addiction. They think blackjack tables and slot machines. Not graded slabs and break queues. But the high is the same—and so is the fall. If you’re reading this and you feel even a little bit of what I felt that night, please know: This is just the start of my recovery. #CollectorsMD —
Over $1 million in total in the span of a month.
One million dollars—gone. And for what? A few cards? Some cardboard and dopamine?
You are not alone. This hobby can get out of hand if it’s not managed or if you’re not honest about it. I wasn’t. And it nearly cost me everything.
I hope sharing my story helps someone start theirs too.
When the thrill turns toxic, recovery starts with the truth.
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