Mum was planning on doing some shopping when she caught up with my Great Aunt for coffee. I asked if we could go to a certain shopping center, as it's the only one I've been able to get to in recent years. Long story short, I used to buy my synthetics there, although I never went to any of the other shops. It was like tunnel vision, which was the only reason it was 'safe' for me, so this was different.
First, we met Aunty D at her regular coffee shop. Long black, as always (Americano, for those outside Australia - except a long black has the espresso added on top of the hot water, preserving the crema, which an Americano generally does not).
When we headed to the shops, I stopped by the tobacconist for the first time in over six weeks. It's been on the 'to-do' list ever since, but to be honest, I don't think mum trusted me, as she wouldn't take me out. I wanted to say a last goodbye to the staff that've been so good to me for so long, and to let them know I hadn't just fallen off the face of the earth.
They had to do a double-take when they saw me. Most of the time when I went in, I'd just be in my trackies, cardigan and ugg boots, with my hair tied back and no make-up on.
There were a few others in the shop, so I didn't say all that I wanted to. I kept it vague, and just told them I'd had a couple of really bad episodes on the synthetics, where the police and ambulance had to be called twice in one weekend, and that was sort of 'it' for me. They were happy for me. It's always been the people who sold me the synthetics that were the most concerned, and most relieved when I stopped.
In a way, it was a form of closure on the period of synthetics abuse. I said my goodbyes, and told them I probably wouldn't be in much at all anymore.
Then we headed over to Kmart. I just wanted to pick up a few basics to update my wardrobe a little (pictures below). I had to shop a size or two up for most things, as they didn't have many 4s or 6s, but it's better than nothing. Before my ED, I always shopped a size or two larger to try to get things long enough anyway, so I'm not exactly fussed by them not fitting quite right.
We walked past a Coles on the way out, and mum asked if I needed to pick anything up. Dumbfounded, I just stared and said "I don't do supermarkets."
If I were to go to a supermarket, it'd be the regular Woolworths we used to go to. It was the last place I went regularly, my last 'safe' place, up until maybe four years ago. For now, I'm more than happy sticking to online orders and getting everything delivered.
AD drove us home. She's so lovely - she keeps offering to help mum with stuff around the house or washing her hair between nurse visits, although mum doesn't want to have to do anything more than she already does, which is understandable considering she's 85.
Back at home, the stresses started again. I'm struggling with the fact I'm doing everything I can to make mum's life easier, but still getting zero support in return. Later that night I had a mini OD on about three days' worth of pills. I regretted only getting my tobacco and Zippo fluid at the tobacconist, wishing I'd snuck in one last gram.
Mum has her own lockbox now, even larger than the one I lent her, with all of her meds inside, after I sorta raided all of her oxazepam the other week.
As for mum, she got the casts taken off on Friday, although she's still in a sling and can't lift more than 500 grams. All the same rules, so I've got a few more weeks of extra responsibilities around the house.
It's having an impact on my own mental and physical health. Aside from the increased OD and SH urges, my weight has been consistently dropping for the past few weeks, after plateauing for a month or two prior to her injury. My intake has dropped further. I've only been losing 0.5kg a week on average, but it's still a change, and I'm feeling it.
With this weather, though, I need a warmer layer, so it's been pulled out from the back of my wardrobe again.