Pain and poverty are crushing me right now. Wondering will I be able to make it out the door to this appointment or where is the money for our next bill coming from or what joint is going to give out on me when I wake up tomorrow.
Husband is being a self righteous prick about the whole thing by constantly reminding me how hurtful my eating habits are. Like I don’t know. It;s an addiction and I am going to have addict behavior towards certain foods.
He has no idea how close I came to relapse last night. I was at Mom’s so Son and I could spend time with Niece before she and Sister go back to Texas. I obsessively thought about stealing one of Mom’s fentanyl patches and chewing my way to oblivion.
I didn’t though, because I’m at a point where even the deepest of misery doesn’t stop me from playing out the consequences of that type of decision in my head. What if I overdosed? Even if I didn’t, everyone would know where the patch went and it would mean more rehab. Which may even mean bringing DCF back in to our lives. Even though that case is closed I still feel like they’re hovering.
I’m still miserable though. My church is buying me a wheelchair so at least when I go places with Husband i will be able to be wheeled around instead of struggling to limp along leaning on the walker. It should make some things easier.Still though, I crave numbness