the vicodin lure

it is 3 o'clock in the morning. i sit awake, on the couch, in poor light.
just watched a funny movie but as the credits roll, i am right back to my sobering reality.
there really are entirely too many hours and whole days in our lives. too many hours that can remind me of the fact that J is gone for good.

there were moments i had with J in which i thought to myself that i could not possibly be any happier ever than in this very moment ... a moment in which all i wanted was to hold on to him and to never leave this breath.

when grief has its dark embrace around my whole body, i find myself wondering what would happen if i tried what J had. to escape this life with drugs so powerful that they allow a transcendence of one's existence, or a few moments thereof, to something less dreary .. something that could bring joy where there is none. .. or numbness where nothing but sorrow fogs one's gaze.

then, i think, it would be too ironic if i were to start using after the love of my life  succumbed to the very same thing. what would people think of me? ... yup, hard to believe, but, societal pressure is keeping me straight. that, and motherly feelings of duty.

i thought, i could never be an addict. i could never say yes to a drug so hard, it could make me its b*tch. but now i understand. i could imagine it now. especially if i didn't have children. i could imagine willingly throwing myself onto this inevitably self-destructive path.

i think, i need to get rid of the vicodin and oxycodon pills i have laying around for the past few years. remnants of ailments past. given to me but never used. i barely even take tylenol. i just don't like unnecessary medication. -- today, however, as i was organizing the medicine cabinet, i caught myself staring at the pill bottle in my hand. Taking mental inventory of the serious drugs i have in my house and whether i should start putting them to use.  ... they need to go. i doubt, my rational side would ever let me abuse a substance but i kinda don't trust myself in this state.

grief has changed me.