Tag Archive | anxiety

Anger mismanagement

I’ve really been struggling lately. I’ve been filled with this barely suppressed rage all the time.

Husband, especially, brings this out in me. He’s not even doing anything wrong. Just being in the same room as him infuriates me. The way he talks, his sense of humor, his habit of reminding me constantly of all the basic adult things I do on a daily basis, the way he sounds when he eats, his breathing issues ( which causes him uncontrollable coughing fits while awake and snoring like a lawnmower when asleep) and his basic denial (and refusal to deal with) his serious health issues.

So I’m furious all the time now.  And I’m in a state of transition, which always has me a little crazy.  Now I’m trying to get through this, establish a HEALTHY new normal and keep striving towards my goals instead of rampant self destruction.. which on nights like tonight seems much more appealing..

So I write. I don’t know if this actually helps but journaling is a positive activity and any night like this that I can make myself behave positively vs the wreckage I want to set in motion is a major win.. for me and everyone around me as well


Hurt and angry..

I took a fall yesterday morning trying to get out of bed to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t get up off the floor myself and had to call Husband to help me. The are only 2 things I can possibly find to be grateful about with that:

1. I managed to not pee myself when I hit the ground which would fairly literally add insult to injury.

2. I was not injured worse.

Other than that the situation pretty much blows. Being an addict in treatment for opiate addiction means any time you have new pain, due to injury or illness you have this weird tightrope to navigate between caring for your health situation and not relapsing. I didn’t have Husband take me to the emergency room because wtf would they be able to do for me? There is nothing they can offer me that I can actully take without jeopardizing my treatment situation and there is a reason I choose to suffer on a daily basis rather than jeopardize that.

I did go see my primary care yesterday afternoon due to pelvic pain I’ve been having since Saturday which feels like the dreaded return of ovarian cysts. I must be one of few unlucky women who have had hysterectomies and still manage to be polycystic. When my gyno did the hysterectomy in 2010 she sold me on leaving in the diminished right ovary portion I had left at the time of that operation, saying that it would still secrete hormones which would help me with the premature menopause. My left ovary and part of my right had been taken out in 2001 as they had been taken over by tumors. I will always be glad that they didn’t give me a total hysterectomy in 2001, because that allowed me to be able to have Son, who I cannot imagine life without. However, in addition to still secreting hormones, the remainder of right ovary also still manages to make lots of cysts. In 2013, this was a major issue and I was supposed to have surgery for it, but that was kind of eclipsed by my life spiral and detoxing after 6 or so years of active addiction and the cysts must have resolved on their own either that or they just stopped hurting till now.

So I’ve got to have a transvaginal ultrasound. If you have never had one of these and can avoid it, I’d say count yourself blessed. When you are experiencing pelvic pain, the last thing you want is a giant instrument poking around down there.

OK, having completely alienated all of my male readers, I’ll move on!

This morning I woke up at around 4, far more sore than usual and again, needing to pee. I tried to get up and had a great amount of difficulty, tried to get Husband’s attention and failed (we’re in one of our sleeping separate but still amicable phases atm) so I tried again and thabkfully managed, though with great effort, to navigate my way to the bathroom and back without incident.

Feeling rather pissed and no longer in danger of pissing MYSELF, I knocked on Husband’s studio door. He wasn’t in there. Checked the living room, no Husband, only Son asleep on the pullout bed. Son loves sleeping on the pullout (for some mysterious reason) and it’s a privilege he’s allowed during summer months as long as his behavior is in line. Having checked everywhere else and noticing Husband’s keys were gone, I figured he made a wee hours run to Walmart.

So I called him.

Me: Where are you?

Him: Pulling in to the complex soon. I just went to Walmart to get the essentials, something to drink, bread, and a bag of charcoal.

Me: Essentials… Did you get milk?

Translation: I know you just consider essential something your selfish ass wants! Never in a million years would something I wanted at 3 am be considered “essential”.

Him: No, but there’s always daytime trips for things like milk. I’m parking now.

Translation: Because milk is important to your everyday life and not mine, it will never be thought of as essential by me. And I’m done caring about this now, so get off the phone.

So he gets inside and then he says:

What made you come looking for me?

Me: I needed help getting to the bathroom and you weren’t there so I figured out you had gone to the store.

Him: Good job!

Me, incredulous: Good job for deducing that you went to Walmart at 3 am?

Him: Nooo…umm.. good job for taking yourself to the bathroom and not falling again.

To which I have no response, except seething rage. Asshole! Does that mean I did a “bad job” when my bone on bone joints gave out yesterday, causing me to hit the floor and aggravating who knows how much of the damage in my already mutilated joints??

Are you fucking kidding me?

I’m sad, hurt physically and emotionally, and really angry today. The plan is to rest up before I have to leave for a church commitment at 5:30 tonight.

Today, I’m grateful for Youtube. It makes me laugh and laughter can change my mood even when it’s super dark. Plus, without Youtube I’d never have known footage like this exists:

X-rays and injections..

I really wasn’t looking forward to today. I had my first injection scheduled with this new pain doctor I am seeking help from and as it was my knee scheduled to be injected and I had a bad experience last time, all of my anxious, self-sabotaging impulses were in full swing telling me to reschedule. Or even better, cancel. Sure, I’d never know what this doctor could do for me but by never giving him a chance he’d also be unable to hurt me right?

Another reason to avoid him was that he had ordered x-rays of my spine. I avoid x-rays like the plague as I hate being up on that hard ass table and then being bent in to awkward painful positions and told to hold still and hold my breath while they take forever getting the picture right.

But I want to meet my goals, and part of being able to meet difficult goals is pushing past my fears and keeping appointments even when I really, really don’t want to. So I pulled up my big girl pants and suffered through the x-rays (just as bad as I thought) and got my right knee injected (not horrible at all, he uses an x-ray technique to guide his needle, thus making this the least painful joint injection I’ve ever experienced!).

Today I am grateful that I pushed past anxiety and self sabotage to accomplish neccessary medical procedures and make headway towards my goals.

Compilation of my very 1st month blogging.. very early in recovery..

SO all of this writing is pulled from when I very 1st started using WordPress. I was at a raw point in my life as the text will show. I am reposting as a reminder to myself and anyone else in recovery that if you stay at it, things will improve.

I need this reminder now because I have gotten in to a very shameful, dark headspace as I persue wls and have to examine the depth, origin and consequences of my food issues. I need this reminder to show me if I let professionals and caring others help me and follow suggestions made by people smarter than me who have done this all before, I can make progress. Major things can change. Things that seem insurmountable. I’m not saying I have reached the pinnacle of addiction recovery, not even less than halfway there.. but my life is definitely lightyears better than how it was when I started and I truly did accomplish that one day at a time.


Ok.. so a lot has happened and maybe not enough has happened. I wonder sometimes.

My family is doing very well.

Son is having a much better time in 3rd grade than 2nd. Many things contribute to this, I know. He started with the other kids instead of the middle of the year. He has had an excellent IEP in place since the very 1st day of school and it has made all the difference. Plus, his home routine has smoothed out and stabilized tremendously. I realized early in with him that reliable routine is his personal secret for success. If he knows what to expect by what day it is, he functions extremely well and has next to no anxiety. So, even though there are still many things to be resolved between Husband and me, I think that us co-parenting, under the same roof as a reliably united front has helped him tremendously.

Daughter is still living with my parents. I miss her like crazy some days and we really have to work at getting time together cause she is so busy, but she is doing incredibly well in that GED program at the career center. She just got certified in her microsoft class and she is taking the last of the GED tests this AM. Yesterday waws her last day of “school” there. When she goes back on Monday she will be working for Sally, doing whatever she needs from computer tasks and making copies to helping another student understand his or her assignment.

Husband got his Voc Rehab and he’s thrown himself into being a student. They are paying for school,, full ride plus supplies and something to live on. This is truly an answer to prayer. He’s wants to do a degree in mechanical engineering at Umass Dartmouth. He’s been out of school for a really long time though so the Umass guy said for him to do a few credits at Massasoit, then he’ll take him at Umass.

We only have the one car now. So Tuesdays and Thursdays I am on my own getting Son to the bus, and then left alone for the day in the house. First I was just binge watching whatever I could lose myslef in to fill the hours or playing games on the computer, jumping from fcebook to pogo to big fish. Maintainting level and raising scores like these things matter to my life.I have felt some measure of guilt or need to show that I accomplished something in the hours and hours that he was off learning and my kids were doing what they were supposed to be doing, but I was just wasting away and I’m not even wasted anymore.

I am heavy.. not just fat I feel heavy when my knees are flared like this. When I stand up, the pain is tremendous. i don’t know what t o do. I meet with a knee surgeon from Tufts and i am sure that they are gonna tell me that I need to lose 80 lbs before they’ll do anything because my size combined with the other risk factors makes me a too big of a risk and guarunttes needing to do the op agoin way too soon., end up in a wheelchir blah diddy blah blah!

The thing is, I HATE being this size. And… I’m overtired and emotional so I will post more later


If you tell me something that I did that you don’t like and I say ok, and even apologize is there really any reason to keep going on and on about it? I know you’re pissed that I burnt the pizza. I know that you spent $48 on those pizzas cause they were for Son’s fundraiser. Do you think being a complete d-bag about helps me? Helps us? Resurrects overpriced veggie pizza?

And why do you tell me something and then keep talking crap to yourself, but loud enough for me to hear you? What does that do but drive us even further apart? Which is something you were lamenting last night and the night before and the night before when you think I’m sleeping and you lay next to me talking about how far apart we’ve grown.

Here’s a nifty idea! Why don’t you try doing something that fosters some intimacy between us? Asking me what would make me happy? Doing something to make me happy?


I went to therapy today after having missed 2 appointments in a row. I suppose I should make it clear exactly what depends on this therapy going right. I am in recovery. DCF is in our lives. My marriage and my relationship with my children is on the line and this clinic is who supplies with my insurance subsidized suboxone therapy without which, my life as an opiate addicted rheumatois arthritis patient is even more hell on walker, then it is now. Most days I don’t even want to get out of bed in the am at all. I sit at the edge of my bed, tears welling up in my eyes. Hands, wrists, knees, cankles and feet swollen beyond reason red, mishappen and feeling next to useless. My shoulders ache to a point that even the slightest movement of my neck or my arms feels like a scream. So I sit, on the edge of the bed, putting off the weight bearing untill my bladder won’t let me wait any longer.

ANYways..because i am a fuck-up addict who can’t keep her shit together even when everything depends on it, I have missed my last 2 appointments w/o calling and skipped my last 2 random urines.

Why, you may ask.. Well I’ll tell you.. the appointments are because I was afraid of being put on notice like today, wherein Counsellor made me sign an agreement saying that if I missed 1 more appointment w/o 24 hrs notice that I would be kicked out of the program! Meaning no more therapy that has kept me relatively on the straight and narrow , no more suboxone, no more managability, not to mention wtf the judge would say if they realized that I bombed out of the only thing I had going for me.

The reason why I skipped my last 2 color days is because both times they were called when I had run out of subs before my refill date and I was terrified that my pee would tell on me, that I, the colossal , fuck-up am now doing the same bullshit with my addiction therapy that I did with my painkillers. Using more than prescribed right after refill, trying to escape everything I hate about me and running out early. So now I am exactly 1 missed appointment away from losing what little ground I have managed to gain by completely bombing out of treatment.

Please, please, please GOD, help me get my crap together!

3 things I did during active addiction that I cringe to think about now..

I have been in substance abuse treatment since March 10, 2013. I am by no means perfect but I have managed to stay in compliance with the same program since then, without any use or abuse of my drug of choice, prescription painkillers. Having a clear head means remembering some things that you’d just as soon forget though, and as I’ve been struggling lately, I felt inspired to post a few of these things to remind myself why I never want to be that woman again.

1. I neglected my children’s needs for my high or due to my withdrawals. At the time, I blamed it on my health (and I do have legitimate health problems) but the reality was I was heavily abusing any opiate (also sometimes benzos) I could get my hands on. So that had me super high and out of it at times and when I was withdrawing I would be angry, sick and unavailable to them. Daughter suffered for this in many ways that Son did not end up as she was older. It has been painful for me to see and know, as she’s now in college, if I’d been there for her when I was supposed to she wouldn’t have nearly as many issues with math and math anxiety. And math is important to her long term goals as she wants to be a nurse. Son was in the second grade when I detoxed and I have been an active part of his education since then. He’s now finishing 4th grade and his progress has been amazing. I do often wonder, though, how much his anxiety issues and stammer are my fault. Nonetheless, as imperfect as I was and am, I know I am a huge percent better mom now. I make sure he has all kinds of things that I couldn’t or wouldn’t do for Daughter. She is happy about this. When things were at their worst with the pills, she’d sometimes scream into my drugged out face,”Get your crap together! Don’t you dare do this to him too!!”

2. I drove, loaded, with the kids in the car. It’s only by the grace of God that all I ever did was put small, cosmetic damage type dents. I have a dear friend that crashed with her 3 kids in the backseat and 2+ years later, their lives are still forever changed. Friend has made amazing progress and even managed after serving time to get full custody of 2 of her 3 kids. Her eldest lives with her dad, and only sees her mom on the weekends that her dad deems Friend worthy. As she is still in a sober house living situation and just barely got the other 2 back this isn’t something Friend is ready to take to court.

3. I overdosed on multiple occasions. Sometimes, I didn’t know what happened. One night, I mixed a bunch of Percocet, caffeine pills, and Klonopin. Back then Daughter and I used to go to the all night Laundromat to do 2-3 weeks worth of laundry at a time. Husband was super controlling and rage prone back then and we would kind of look forward to these trips. That night however, I was on edge about something, so I bummed a few Klonopin off my Mom. I felt mellow after the first one. But then I took a few more Percs and a couple of No Doze, with the idea of getting the pain relief, motivation and energy to get through the night. They hit me weird, however, and all of a sudden it seemed like a good idea to pop another 2 Klonopin. I don’t remember much of what happened after that except 2 things that stand out clearly.

First, I remember being woken up by Daughter screaming my name and lightly smacking my cheeks. I was reclined in the driver’s seat of our car with the radio blaring Lady Gaga, and Daughter kept saying,”You weren’t breathing! You weren’t breathing.” That is scary as hell (for obvious reasons) and also because we lost my brother in 2007 due to that same type of overdose. He mixed Percocet and Klonopin with who knows what else all the time but for some reason, on 10/30/07 he ended up with just the right opiate/benzo cocktail to just go to sleep and then stop breathing and by the time they found him it was too late.

Second major highlight of that messed up night was when I got home and went to go pee before bed. I vaguely remember going in the bathroom, then the next thing I knew I was on the bathroom floor and my face hurt like hell. I had passed out and hit my face on the heater grate. I blamed it on my bad knees, saying that my knees gave out when I stood up after peeing, but really I had just blacked out. I had a concussion, a cut cheek (within an inch of my left eye) and a badly bruised fat lip. I know Son remembers this at least a little because every now and then he mentions the time I fell and got a “giant purple swelly.”

Other times when I KNEW I had taken too much of one thing or another, I would wait it out, monitoring myself, instead of asking for help from anyone. I would lay on my side, with the idea of not choking should I puke, and set alarms on my phone. I would then wait it out, usually playing solitaire or some other game, self assessing every 45 minutes or so till I felt safe to go to 2 hour increments of time. I never asked for help even though I was scared, sometimes really scared, because I was always MORE scared of someone in power finding out how out of control I was and cutting off my supply.

I also lied, cheated, manipulated and stole from loved ones and even a few strangers on a regular basis. Bottom line though, being so screwed up with my priorities that my precious children and even my own life came second to the almighty opiate is what haunts me the most.

Here’s a clue: addicts pretty much always want the cookie!

There’s an expression people use when they are disgusted with someone trying to get rewarded or complimented for something routine that they should do without expecting to be noticed. I don’t know if it is original to Chris Rock, but he is the one I’ve heard us it the most hilariously.

In his bit about  having low expectations for one’s life, he says that these people brag about stuff that’s expected of them, as in “I take CARE of my kids!” or “I ain’t never been to jail!” These are things that, of course, are expected of normal, functional, human beings. And normal, functional human beings don’t, after doing these things go around pointing it out, looking for compliments or rewards. in response to these low expectations for one’s own performance, Chris Rock sarcastically snaps, “Whaddayou want… a cookie?”

The problem I’m having lately, is that yes, I want credit, a cookie, a pat on the back. Right now I am so angry and sad and there is very little that i do that doesn’t make me feel either suffocatingly sad or like a ferociously angry monster. Between my health, meaning my pain levels being SO high and my mobility SO low, even the happiest reason to get out of the house requires enormous amounts of effort on my part. Also, we’re broke. Like flat broke, nothing left in our pockets, or car ashtray or couch cushions broke. And the gas bill hasn’t been paid and neither has the wifi, which is our lifeline to the outside world.

Son even needs it to do his homework. He submits his answers over Google Docs now, I don’t know if it’s to encourage them how to use the computer or to cut down on paper. I guess it doesn’t really cut down on the paper because the questions get sent home on a piece of paper and his printed out, graded answers get sent home later too, So wifi is kind of a necessity for us. When they started to cut off service this morning I called and got us another week. I have no idea where we’ll get the money from in a week but at least we still have service today. Husband has got to do something. I am out of people I can ask for help. I have degraded myself and asked my parents REPEATEDLY. I asked my friend, but her I asked for work, because sometimes I drive her places and she pays me.  She handled things by ignoring me for weeks even when I sent Son to her door to check on her, because sometimes  she isolates when she actually needs help. And I found out things are worse than I thought and I kind of find him despicable for this (not that it didn’t cross my mind) Husband borrowed from Son’s bank account (to pay for something that WASN’t a purchase Son authorized.)

I found that out because Son volunteered his own money when a birthday party he had been invited to was fast approaching and we hadn’t taken him shopping for his friend’s gift yet. Me finding out Husband had cleaned Son out went something like this: Son comes home and for the third day in a row bursts into my room and says, “we really gotta go shopping for Friend’s present.. like right now.. like today!!” Friend came to HIS birthday party, Friend gave him a cool gift. So Son now wants to reciprocate and his social anxiety is increasing exponentially every day that we don’t do something about this. I, having nothing to take him shopping WITH and no prospects for how I would pay for all important said birthday present, struggle to find words to reason with him as to why we  aren’t going RIGHTNOWRIGHTNOWRIGHTNOW! As I am fumbling for excuses, Son says, “Just have dad take me to the bank! I have all my money from summer reading in there. We can use that!!”

So Son isn’t stupid, and without me saying it directly, he intuits that the reason for my hesitation is financial. SO I call Husband in to the bedroom from his studio and he is particularly douchebaggy about responding. Once i finally get him in here without Son, I rehash the whole situation which he knows about and has avoided doing anything about. He half angrily half sheepishly lets me know that Son doesn’t have the money he thinks he has.  He has $1 keeping his account, the one he worked hard to create for himself, open, till Husband gets some school money to replace what he spent on whatever.

After grudgingly letting me in on this info, Husband slinks off and shuts himself up in his studio for hours leaving me less than 24 hours away from something very important to Son and no way to handle it. I hate when he acts like this. And all the while blaming me for things that don’t work out that aren’t my fault like my friend not calling me back with work. His explanation of that being my fault was that I was creeping her out with repeated texts and phone calls! If that’s what he really thinks he has no idea how our friendship actually works plus I love (and by love I mean loathe) the way he thinks he has any say in what happens with this kind of thing when he is sitting back doing absolutely NOTHING about our situation which is rapidly worsening for ALL of us, not just me and Son.

We have no money left for the month, We still need groceries. We still need gas in the car. We still haven’t paid the gas bill or the wifi and I don’t see any way that we will make it WITH service till June. So after trying the friend who is ignoring me one more time, I bit the bullet and called my mother.

My parents had helped us out twice this month already, once with $100 toward the electric to cover the $100 I spent on Son’s camping field trip at the end of the month, and once with $60 of the $70 needed for Son to sign up for baseball. I knew 2 things making this call:1) They would probably help. 2) They, at least my mother would rub it in my face for all it’s  worth that they did and that this was third time that they did this month. Expecting all of that, it still hurt like hell to hear it. She kept picking and picking at the fact that I’ve never paid her back for any of the help that, I guess in her  mind, was considered a loan.

I never called any of this money a loan, our income is super fixed, if we get behind on bills or anything of that sort, we need a bailout not a loan, because when the fixed income comes next month, the fixed bills come right along with it, So after rubbing that in my face as hard as she could she said she’d talk to my Dad and call me back. I sat and sobbed for the time in between. Part angry part shame tears. And i guess there was an element of suffocation in there as well. I don’t see this getting any better.. ever. Only worse. My health, my pain, my marriage my finances, It’s all a heavy load of crap that is slowly crushing me with misery. She called back, said Dad said he could give us $100 and said she was, “Sorry for being harsh before.” That was unexpected. She never admits to being mean or out of line.

As it was after 4 and the party was the next day I rushed over there to get the check cashed before 5. The last thing I needed was Son going to bed anxious plus an errand the morning of the party. My mobility has been beyond awful and mornings are the worst of the worst. When I got over there, she brought the check out to the car and apologized again.. but this time she confessed that she was doing so because my sister, who is visiting from Texas heard Mom reaming me out and went off on her about it. I love my sister. I love that no matter how different our lives are she always, always has my back. Side note, last time she was here with Niece, Niece took to me more than my mom, this time it appears to be the opposite, I think because of the sheer added exposure that Niece has to Mom as she and Sister are staying there. This is something that has me writhing with jealous angst and also something Mom never fails to rub in my face.

So I went and cashed the check, picked up Son so he could pick out a gift, then we went grocery shopping with my last few food stamps for the month. My craving and craven emotion following all of this was definitely reflected in my shopping. I bought a ton of sweets and some chips and a few useful groceries but not enough. I knew even as I was making these purchases that I would regret them, because they are bad for my body and because Husband won’t hesitate to point that out AND because funds are low and it would be  much more beneficial to everyone to use what we have for healthy things. But that didn’t stop me from buying the crap. Or shoveling it in as fast as I could once I got it home. I don’t know why I eat to hurt myself but I seem compelled to do so

. You would think how much it hurts to stand and step and hold myself up would deter me from maintaining and gaining weight. But sugar, grease, and carbs have a serious grip on me, I read some obscure post about being able to somehow chemically turn sugar into morphine and some days I seriously wonder if that is what I’m after. So last night, Husband brought up the bad groceries and how quickly I pounded them down. I told him how compelled I feel and why I believe I feel this way but he doesn’t get it. It doesn’t matter. I am the one who needs to get it. To get how to make the right choices repeatedly till they become a lifestyle change that gets this weight off me and has me at a moveable, manageable weight. So I listened and I cried and now I feel equal parts compelled to score buckets of frosting and soda and also never eat again.

I hate feeling this way. I really hope the WLS does for me what I need it to and makes sugar off limits. I would miss is but not nearly as much as I would relish being smaller, able to move around, able to walk small distances without cursing and tears. The problem is, I want the cookie.. both the literal sugary treat I have no business eating and also the accolades and pats on the back for achieving normal human activities that are expected of a wife and mom. I also have great difficulty eating right. So if I manage  to eat right for a day or two I want compliments, parades and results. I am impractical, unrealistic and impatient. If things are difficult for me, even if they are run of the mill routine for others, I want results and acknowledgement right away, I always want the cookie! Cookies, plural, if at all possible.

Multiple family members  and one friend-acquaintance of mine have had this operation with varied results. Son’s friend’s mom (the friend) lost a lot. She is now, literally, a thin woman that used to be so heavy she needed help to stand and walk. I would so love that result. But even if I can’t get there, being 50-80 lbs lighter than here would have to improve  my outlook on life. My mother has had wls and after losing 150 lbs she gained about 70 of it back. She is still very big, like high 300s and I think the reason she has been able to maintain her heaviness even with the changes to her digestive system is her adaptation of her unhealthy habits. Instead of tray of pork chops and sheet pans of frosted brownies she now grazes all day on peanut butte, crackers, cheese, croutons and even really unhealthy weirdness like bullion cubes, and fistfuls of vitamin E softgels and Ricola cough drops.

My aunt and eldest cousin both had wls and did well with it. Neither got skinny-skinny but both lost a massive amount from thier highest weight and now seem to be able to eat what they want in moderation. I would be happy with results similar to either of them. One of biggest fears about the whole thing is the idea of going through all of this and NOT losing enough to get my knees, NOT losing enough to make things better.

I’ve been jerked around a bunch by my insurance about who will pay for me to have this done but I finally, finally, have an appointment on 6/12 at the hospital that is going to do the procedure for me. Hopefully we can get the  ball rolling and I can be logging the results of that, hopefully AWESOME results of that very soon.

As I post this, which I’ve been writing off and on for a few days, I am sad, irritable, fatigued and in quite a bit of pain. My knees, neck, worst wrist and worst ankle have been playing hell with me. Super swollen, tight and not wanting to flex and move as joints are required to for normal locomotion. I am fed up. My plan is to force my way past this pain so we can get a food voucher from TAFDC and to re-register with St Vincent’s food bank. That’s the plan. We’ll see how the actual day plays out.