While we hold our secrets close to our hearts, sometimes they slip out. Five stories

As told to Russy Tendler

"If you put shame in a Petri dish, it needs three things to grow exponentially: secrecy, silence, and self-judgment. If you put the same amount of shame in a Petri dish and douse it with empathy, it can’t survive,” says Dr. Brene Brown.

I was given my own opportunity to conduct this experiment, and I’ve found the conclusion to be accurate. That’s why I’ve decided to share my story, in the hope that it pokes at dormant empathy and arouses compassion, and perhaps overflows onto someone else’s Petri dish in desperate need of dousing.

I always knew we were the kind of family people envied. My wife and I loved hosting and socializing, sent our kids to great schools, and presented a picture of ease and happiness to the world around us. With five beautiful children, a solid income, and a communal leadership mindset, we were always well liked and could easily be described as the “perfect family.” And really, we would have been. Except for one not-so-little problem: I was thoroughly and completely addicted to gambling.

If I must trace it back to its beginnings, I believe it started when I was in yeshivah high school, when I’d spend my nights at a friend’s house, fervently playing video games and eventually setting the stakes high. We’d put money on winning, and each win, with its ten dollar boost, would spur another furious game, offering chances of more money and more of the adrenaline that accompanied the payout.

From then on, I found every possible opportunity to experience this rush. I began following sports teams around the world and betting on the outcomes of games. I’d bet on anything and everything, and each time I made more money, I knew I could make more if I just reinvested my winnings.