My mother went to the doctor yesterday. She was in pain from her most recent fall. The doctor prescribed her Percocet. The pharmacist apparently was out of that and instead gave her Vicodin. Which I now realise makes no sense. A pharmacist doesn't just give out unprescribed class A narcotics. Which means she lied to me. Nothing new there.
Of course she has been abusing them. She took ten yesterday. My psychiatrist was pushing me to call her old connection. She believed that if I could convince him to not sell to her anymore, things would get better. That is a load of bullshit. She can these things anytime she wants.
I told her I was going to flush them. She told me that if I did that I would not be her son anymore. She said she would never talk to me again. I still want to do it. I know she would get over it. I won't though. I am too much of a coward. It makes my skin crawl to have them near me. I want nothing to do with them. All of my resentment for my mother, all my fears, all of the negative emotions I have from the past few months just coalesce into hate. I hate an inanimate object.
Do you have any idea how silly that is. I feel like a fucking idiot. And yet here I am. I wonder when I will reach my breaking point. Do I have one? My doctor tells me I have a problem expressing aggression. Maybe when I finally break it will all come out at once.
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