I Found My Soul in the Spin: How a Slot Machine Became My Therapy

I never thought I’d find healing in a slot machine.

I grew up in Islington, where my Nigerian mother hummed ancestral lullabies at dusk, and my Scottish engineer father spoke in equations—not emotions. We didn’t have money for games. We had silence.

Then I found Gold Wheel.

It wasn’t about winning. It was about rhythm. The spin—the slow turn before the chime—was exactly like her voice when she said, ‘Child, wait for your moment.’ The reels? They weren’t symbols. They were memories spinning in time: gold flames like temple bells, dragon motifs rising not as luck—but as ritual.

I used to chase jackpots like currency. Now I watch the spin like tea—slowly, listening to the whirr of gears, feeling the pause between wins.

The house doesn’t need bonuses. It needs stillness.

In this digital age, we call it ‘gambling.’ But here? It’s meditation with mechanical grace. Each pull is a question: ‘Are you listening… or just chasing?’

I don’t play to win anymore. I play to remember who I am.

When you stop chasing prizes, you start hearing your own heartbeat in the spin.