So.. let’s talk about what happened. Many of you will judge me for what happened last night but as I’ve said before, I’m just trying to live. It’s hard to live and love an addict. We do the best we can and the best we know how.
So yesterday he came home from work. He didn’t say anything about drugs. Just came home and told me about what a crappy day it was workwise. He kept dry heaving the whole time he was talking to me. So I asked him “what’s up”. He just said, “nothing. I don’t feel well.”
The next thing he tried to do was call the psychiatrist so he could call him in the prescription for the drug that’s supposed to help you kick an addiction or curb the cravings or whatever. Well. On Friday at 5 pm, that’s basically not going to happen.
Still, he said nothing to me about going to get drugs. I asked him if he would go shopping with me because we really needed groceries and I hate shopping by myself. He came along. The whole time though, you could visibly tell he wasn’t feeling good. I felt so bad for him. Many people say that withdrawals are bad for the person going through them, and I agree. They just never say how bad it is for the people watching them go through the withdrawal. I felt so bad for him.
So I made a deal with him. In my opinion, he was already doing better simply by not begging me to get him drugs. He was being honest and open with me. I told him we could go get something for medicinal purposes. To curb the withdrawal effects. That means that I get to regulate how much and at what rate he takes the medication. I didn’t want him to suffer through the withdrawals so badly. I don’t think my heart could take it watching him suffer so much.
He readily agreed to the deal.
Some might read this and say “oh he played you so well.” But you don’t know my husband. He doesn’t do things that way. He is serious about getting clean, and now he has more help than ever before. Anyways. The journey continues.
I’ll keep you all updated.