Well, it happened.  J relapsed.

I got a call from hubby last night.  He had just found out (while he was at work) and needed to vent to someone so he could try to get through his night.  I listened for as long as he had, walked my parents’ dogs, and went to bed.

So, when I got off the phone with him I texted A and told her that I had talked to her father and if there was anything I could do to help, to let me know.  She called and we talked for awhile.  Apparently, on Friday,  J put in some hours helping somebody do something and they gave him a few bucks.  We had asked for him to come to A’s for dinner Friday night and visit, but the second he got money in his pocket, he ran out and got some heroin. Hubby left late Saturday night to go home, knowing only that his kid didn’t show up, but not why.

This morning, I’m desperately trying to read a book and I just can’t do it.  My plan is to go to my grandmother’s this afternoon and spend some time with her (hopefully find that hearing aid!).  And, then, if A wants me to, go over to her house to talk about options.

Hubby already told her that J can’t come live with us.  That offer was on the table when he was clean and he didn’t want it.  We offered to help pay at a sober living facility until he found a job and he didn’t want it.  His mother agreed to let him come back to live with her, even though she had told everyone she wouldn’t.  It’s the worst possible place for him to be.

Now, I’m just trying not to have a meltdown.  No meltdown. No meltdown.  Too much drama makes me want to live in a hospital for the rest of my life.  No drama…just therapy, meds and coloring all the time.

That’s not who I am though.  That’s not what I really want.

I feel like throwing up….I wish the klonopin would kick in.

I need a place to hide.

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