My husband and I are at war with one another right now. I don’t know how he found out, but he fished my medicine bottles out of the trash and got them filled, as well as the prescriptions for the two extra drugs that I didn’t want. Then he woke me up from my nap and sat me down at the table with the pills spread out in front of me, and said either I was taking them or he was seriously going to sign the paper behind the pills. I grabbed the papers; they were some legal documents from the Village Idiot and an actual divorce paper.
So my choice was either I can continue to take these medicines that aren’t beneficial and stay sick and comatose, or I can be legally separated from my husband and possibly declared psychologically ill and lose my RN, my credits, my children, and possibly never get any of those back.
How can people do this to others? Why do they do it? Why do they do it to the ones they claim they love? This isn’t love. While I was digging through my planner, I saw where my husband leaves on a business trip in February, after Valentine’s Day, for a memorial show for our daughter, as well as some other work. I will truly be alone. At least now we speak to one another, some times, even if it is edgy, but I really believe I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It doesn’t have to be this way. Does it?
In the end, I took the pills. I checked the locked medicine cabinet and found that the Seconal has gone down significantly since I last checked it. Hell, I can’t stay home and make sure he doesn’t become an addict again. I thought about flushing it, but then I thought different. I went back to my nap. I dreamed of stealing Oxy pills and naked Billy. They weren’t good dreams.