I wonder if there is ever going to come a day where the addict in me isn’t made simply giddy by refilling and holding in my hot little hands a month’s worth of opiates. Even Suboxone, which is FAR from being my opiate of choice. It just STILL feels like untold riches. Even though I have very little wiggle room to abuse my script now. Even though I’d feel sick if I chose to go overboard with adjusting my dosage, my inner addict is still chanting: refill refill REFILL ( to a conga line, Gloria Estefan type beat). 18 months in treatment and I still haven’t grown out of this. *sigh* I don’t like thinking too hard about how this reflects upon my recovery.