Searched his car for his hiding spots. Popped up on him at his house (I had the key). I tried being a CSI chick or something by slowly turning the lock thinking he wouldn't hear it and to come and find out the padlock was on. What a dumba$$ I was?!
The only sane moment I had is when he relapsed a second time and I saw the images of the checks he stole from me on my screen, I got up from the computer, started packing his stuff, all the while he's in the kitchen asking for a hug. WTF? Are u kidding me? Once all of his stuff was packed in his one little duffle bag and the other stuff was thrown into one pile on the floor he knew he had to leave (a previous boundary I set up). Wow, that was a moment of strength for me and it felt damn good. I felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. Then after he left he texted, "I'm so sorry." My response, "Fu*K U." Damn, I'm basking in the glory and strength of that night to not worry about where he was going to go (treatment vs. the street vs. jail). It didn't matter to me. I was free! LOL.