Jean-Michel Kowalski’s story sounds like a warning, but also like a hand extended to those who feel trapped by an addiction that is often silent. A former teacher, family man, respected educator and amateur football coach, over the years he fell prey to the brutal mechanisms of compulsive gambling. Today, he is giving his testimony so that others can avoid the abyss he experienced.
The day it all changed
Nothing, absolutely nothing, predestined Jean-Michel Kowalski to become a compulsive gambler. Brought up in a family committed to the values of hard work and discipline, he led a stable life at the age of twenty-five, with an almost secure job in teaching, a solid circle of friends and a smooth career path.
Then one night, just one night, a friend took him to the Chaudfontaine casino. This curiosity came at a high price.
At the roulette wheel, he bets, plays, smiles and wins. In just a few days, the winnings were piling up: 42,000 Belgian francs, the equivalent of around €10,000. The trap closed before he even realised it. The winnings became the driving force, the excitement, the driving force from one evening to the next. What was just a discovery becomes a habit.
A tightening vicious circle
For months, Jean-Michel returned to the casino, always playing the same game, always roulette. He loses, then tries to win again. He wins again one evening, loses again the next. A classic but relentless spiral. Before long, the losses are digging holes that the winnings can no longer fill. So he borrows. From friends, colleagues, even his family. He multiplies the pretexts, reassures, promises repayments with interest, as if to mask the abyss into which he is sliding.
When those around him can no longer help, he turns to the bank. An initial loan of 5,000 euros. Then a second. Money became the fuel for a system that had spiralled out of control.
It wasn’t long before the damage began to mount: his behaviour changed, his absences increased, and rumours spread even on Facebook. His teaching job disappeared. His girlfriend moved away.
One evening, with nowhere else to go, he ended up in the Sart Tilman forest. Four days, a small bottle of water and the feeling that he had become invisible.
The word that saves: the trigger from a loved one
In 2022, as he was trying as best he could to pick up the pieces, his 26-year-old stepson spoke to him. A few simple but deeply moving words:
‘Pull yourself together, do it for me. You’re my second dad.’
As Jean-Michel says:
‘He saved me.’
Specialists often repeat this: a person caught up in addiction needs a spark, a word, a gesture to set the rebuilding process in motion. This was his case.
From then on, he took a slow but firm step towards recovery. He stopped gambling, reorganised his life and agreed to face the facts. The courts set up a repayment plan for the debts he had incurred. He followed it scrupulously.
The will to bear witness
Today, Jean-Michel Kowalski has found his place again in teaching. Looking to the future, he hides nothing of his past. On the contrary, he talks about it so that others can understand what goes on behind the façade of pleasure, chance and adrenalin.
Every month he continues to pay back the sums he owes. He hopes to pay off all his debts in two years’ time.
In March this year, he published Garçon, l’addiction, a book with an unambiguous title. It’s a book to tell the story, but also to warn.
‘I want the hell I went through to be useful and to help those who feel lost. My gambling addiction was not a weakness but a disease: I had become a liar, a mysterious and nervous guy. But be careful! I haven’t become a messiah who’s going to save all gambling addicts. I’m simply offering my testimony to help those who need it.’
His next meeting will be on 1 December at Le Baroni restaurant in Soumagne. A date he approaches with the same determination: to share so that others do not sink.
Jean-Michel Kowalski’s story is not that of a miracle worker, but that of a man who has decided to stop running away. He bears the marks of his mistakes, but also the strength of those who refuse to resign themselves to them. His testimony, which he offers today without filter, reminds us that addiction is an illness, not a choice. An illness that destroys, but that can be treated.