Bingo: The (Ironically) Perfect Game For Anxious People

I was volunteering at a rehabilitation center when a printed table with an array of numbers and a marker were placed in front of me. Now, I know a bingo board when I see one--I don’t live under a rock-- but I’ll admit I made a quick Google search to find out how you know you have a “Bingo!” just to save face in front of professionals (for the uninitiated, you need five squares in a row, whether that is vertical, horizontal, or diagonal).

Before I could really settle in my seat, a girl about my age started calling out numbers. The excitement in the room was palpable. I’ve always heard of older people playing Bingo, but I’d never really experienced it. The closest thing I’ve seen my grandparents partake in is scratch lottery tickets, and not very often anyway. 

It was quite nice. There was a sense of anticipation before every number, and you could see the playful smirks on ambitious faces, hear the murmurs of wrinkled lips as they repeated numbers; the sounds waves in a sea of people.  

As time went on and I got more invested in possibly winning, I started thinking about the irony of me enjoying the game. 

The thing about Bingo is that everything is out of your control. Every possible number in your possession has been written and handed to you, unchangeable. Every digit to be announced is chosen on the spot, after having been mixed and turned on a metal cage. Then, all you have to do, all you can do really, is mark the numbers that coincide, looking for sequences. 

The “game” aspect itself is you dealing with the consequences of randomness. Looking for patterns. Your win is reliant on fate, mathematics, and the obscure, innermost laws of the universe. It dawned on me, as I sat amongst individuals who must know a lot more than I do in the ignorance of my youth, that Bingo is nothing more than a representation of life. An allegory.

I am someone who struggles with the notion of the unknowable. When you tend to look for power over your own life because it feels like your existence holds too many variables, Bingo should be scary. Life is incredibly so. There is a reason superstitions, religions, and compulsions exist. All we are doing is trying to reach our hands out to grab something, anything, that will give us hope and reassurance that everything will be fine.

So how come someone like me, who is on a first-name basis with anxiety, can enjoy Bingo, essentially a form of exposure therapy?

I think it’s the fact that on a visceral level, humans love life. I think it goes beyond our animal instincts of survival, through our capability of acknowledging life as it is. Pondering on it. Yes, I might be more susceptible to being afraid of what I cannot control, but at the same time, being in a position where not only are the stakes low but also, you are actively looking for a reward based on the “numbers you’ve been dealt” so to speak, is comforting. More than that, it introduces a way to look at the process of life that is world-changing.

If we are to approach life with the same mindset we do Bingo, embracing the randomness and looking for the patterns, there is a lot more enjoyment to be had. Our journeys become a puzzle that will reveal itself in due time. Of course, real life has consequences, and I am aware I am oversimplifying the process. Trust me, one evening of Bingo did not cure my perpetual existential crisis. However, I couldn’t help but notice the peace that overcame me as I waited for more numbers to be called, looking forward to the next moment, even if that meant I didn’t win and had to start again.  I was simply happy to be there, to get to play. 

Maybe there is a reason Bingo is embraced by people who have already seen so much. The radical acceptance one needs to be at least satisfied with whatever happened in your past, right before going to bed. Younger people would benefit from playing, too. 

#anxiouspeopleforbingo