I relinquished my remaining Vicodin tablets to my T with a note. I walked-in and dropped it off at the office last night while he was with a patient. Friday night I took 10 Vicodin's. I was going to finish 'em off (12), but decided not to because it was already 10pm and I had to work in the morning plus I was to see my kids after work. So last night I took in the bottle with the last two tablets and in my note I also talked about my eating habits. I've been trying to replace laxatives/etc with eating fruit instead. I also told him about the "thinspiration" pictures I download to my cell phone--one is my favorite and it feels like a work of art to me. I plan to show him the pic when I go to my appointment next week. After doing that last night, I developed such a good feeling that things seemed to be getting better for me. I actually told him about those pictures on my phone, and I turned over the Vicodin. I wasn't about to "waste" such a good drug by flushing it myself. I figure he can do that, or whatever a T would do with something like that. I even called and left him a short voice mail to thank him for putting up with me and that I "felt good" about what I did. I emailed several people from my cell phone, too. Today was a bad day at work, though. They are constantly watching me since they learned that I am homeless. I am sure that I will be without a job soon. They learn that I am homeless and all of a sudden that day I am told that I have work performance issues. Well, WHY wasn't I informed of that before then? The last appointment with my pdoc when I mentioned that happened THAT DAY she suggested that I could always try to apply for psych disability. I will have to consider it, I know, because I have no mood and function for work right now--or at least, working *there*.