The weight of shame

I feel so ashamed of myself because I am not bringing in money to feed my husbands addiction to entertainment.
I cannot feed his need, his want, his gotta have it, and he has a brain injury, so who am i to tell him he can't have it.
He needs focus. He has to be able to focus. Focus on a tv show, the harsher the better. Talking blood and gore and sex and violence. I can't even walk in the room without my stomach going into a knot. Then he complains that I don't spend any time with him.
Everquest, hours and hours and hours on end. So much so that he doesn't spend time with anyone, I feel ignored and get mad. I vent, rage pouring out like hot lava. He confirms that I am worthless with his lack of focus on me. I make myself busy, filling up with school and kids and waiting, for what I am not sure.
Back and forth he goes, and then he stops for a time, and complains. It takes too much money, he doesn't have a good enough computer, I don't buy the food he likes, He is alone, I am alone. He looks to games, I struggle frantically in a tiny world made of straw to find connection in something real.   Sex is out. His back hurts and he can't breathe. he falls and hurts himself again, I am helpless. I do and he steals, I have anxiety and then he has anxiety. I go to school, he gets jealous, and so on and so forth. My life is fake. Its not real. it feels fake. Like a half life, waiting to die.
He hates me. Not really but he does. He hates my feelings. He hates that I feel. He numbs his feelings. He plays and eats.
he has his own room, I spent so much to get it just right. Now its a new computer, and a new TV. Then it will be another new computer, he plays two at a time, or its too boring. But he is disabled. and I am the bread winner.
I don't eat, because when I do I can't stop. It feel to good to eat. It numbs the pain. It takes the anguish from within my body for a time. i am never full. My son has taken this, but i still have it. I hate it. I just want to feel full. But I also want chocolate.