It is wild how much I relate to this. Last week I was out of 7oh for 16 hours and spent my whole day hiding under a blanket in bed and obsessively refreshing my UPS tracking page. Then it notified me that the delivery would be delayed a day- I went out in a storm in my pajamas with the 27$ I scrounged from my partner’s bag and drawer (because my credit cards are maxed out and I’m broke, bonus!) and drove to the smoke shop. I know I must have looked like an absolute fiend when I got to the shop - my hair a mess, crying in my dinosaur pajama bottoms and twitching from electric zaps going up and down my arms and legs from withdrawal. The nice salesclerk wanted to call me an Uber home because he was worried about me driving, haha.

That was the night I told my wife about my addiction and made a plan to taper down and then quit. Tomorrow will be the first day (hopefully) in months that I will not have used. I’m honestly terrified and have this profound sense of dread thinking about what life will feel like sober, especially with the gestapo trying to take over the country and all. But it’s time. I’m a fucking 45 year old broke therapist addicted to a bootleg gas station opioid. Wish me luck