Hey Christine, wow. Tough battle, great story. Keep fighting.

My last husband was/is a drug addict. I used to coyly refer to him as a “drug connoisseur.” (Wtf was wrong with me? He was a fucking drug addict.) My mom had a locked cupboard in the upstairs hallway FILLED with mountains of drug samples. Mom was the nurse for the local small town family doctor. Sales reps brought bags of drugs to the office every week. Mom brought bags of drugs home every week. A steady stream of women come to our house to sit at our big kitchen table where mom handed out free drugs like candy. I think mom really dug the reverence and status heaped on her by the sisterhood addicts. My younger sister got into the cupboard whenever she wanted and took handfulls of pills all the time. I was oblivious. I didn’t like chemicals. Normalizing the intense drug environment I grew up in set me up for my scorched earth marriage/divorcee to the drug connoisseur. Life is never quite what we think it might be.