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Sometimes I don't even want to blog about the things she does.  They are so predictable and normal for a narcissist that I find the idea of writing it down tedious.  Sometimes I just want to hide away (and I do) until it blows over and forget it even happened.  Not because I'm like her.  The incident will always be there and become a part of my daily stress.  But mainly because it's exhausting complaining about every damn thing she does.  It's like, duh.  I live with my narcissist mother.  She's going to act up and be a child and act like an asshole more days than not.  What did I expect?  That everyone would be smooth sailing as though she's normal?  Obviously not.  This is our new normal.  This is what it will be like forever until she's in a home or passes away.  So why do I run around sometimes thinking everything is normal when it's not?

The issue is that the opposite sucks big fat butts.  I usually wake up and stay in bed as long as I can do so I don't have to deal with the day (meaning dealing with her).  I know she'll be bitchy.  I know she'll be cruel.  And it will come to a head over a period of days until I get mad enough to say something, and then the cycle restarts with her being as sweet as pie all over again, until she decides to drop the other shoe and start being cruel and mean again.

It's a complete shit show some days.  Others, it's calm.

Take yesterday for example: she was fine all day, in a great mood (other than some jabs at the kids) and then she goes into her room, doesn't shut her door and lights up a cigarette.  She knows she can't smoke in the house (I don't care who's name is on the mortgage).  And even when she tricks me all day into thinking she's doing well, she goes and pulls something that makes me have to confront her about it.

And it's a big deal, confronting her.  She's erratic.  So any time you tell her she's wrong, or more so doing something wrong, she will threaten you or throw a fit.  So I lied to her and told her my son and hubby both have asthma (not exactly a lie, my son does and I think my hubby does, but he's not diagnosed yet).  I've told her a thousand times I'm allergic to smoke.  YET she doesn't give two shits about me.  So I thought I'd take her two golden children and let her know she's hurting THEM.  I am not sure if it worked, but so far, no smoking inside today.  But I am sure this will end with me having to say "DO NOT SMOKE IN THE HOUSE, PERIOD!"  And all hell will either break loose or she will just comply quietly.  You just never know which way it'll go.

So two days ago, my mother got on my case once again for her keys.  I took them away when the quarantine started because she thinks she can do whatever she wants whenever she wants and nobody is going to tell her what to do.  So I am like fuck that, and took her keys.  She wanted them back, promising not to leave, and then she got a really angry look and said "You're not giving them back, are you?"  I said "No.  You're not supposed to be driving."

See, I took her keys away years ago.  She drives so badly I fear not only for her life, but for the lives of those she either hits or causes to hit her.  She take risks, like turning out in front of speeding cars, driving 65 in a 40 quite regularly, swerves around cars without a blinker or without even looking really, and most of all, she can't stay in her lane.  She drifts into the left lane, whether it's oncoming traffic or a four lane and she's in the right lane.  She causes cars to either have to slam on their brakes or causes them to swerve into oncoming traffic.  She's going to kill someone (if not herself).  Years ago, she had a fit, over and over and over again about driving.  She told all our neighbors I stole her car and they all hated me for years (and still do) because of it.  Her doctor refused to take her license away.  They also refused to diagnose her with dementia, even though I knew she had it (turns out, had the docs just looked at her cat scan, it would have shown her vascular dementia).  And it all came to a head one day (you can read about this here) on the day I decided to go no contact.  I was done with it all.  I was going insane from her treatment of me (and of my oldest son), and I had to walk away before I ended up in the hospital.

But here's the deal: I shouldn't have given her keys back.  I washed my hands of it, mostly because I had zero support from her doctors.  But now?  Her neurologist said she's not supposed to drive (after I told her how badly she drives).  But she bothered me and bothered me, until I said fine, she could drive up to a mile away.  We lived on a small area, with WIDE lanes on our streets, so I let her.  To find out, she was going all over town!  So she's wondering why I don't believe her when she said "I just want to hold my keys, I promise I won't leave the house!"  She's like an ODD teenager who will say anything to get mommy and daddy to let her drive.  I said no.  I put my foot down.  I was being irresponsible by letting her drive both times before.  I was putting other people's lives in danger.  But this time, I refused to give into her whining.

She snapped a look at me and said "Do you want to drive my car?"  I said "Look."  She cut me off and repeated.  "I said let's be adults about this."  She said "Answer my question."  I was getting frustrated.  She repeated this line over and over and over until I said "Doesn't matter.  You aren't going to drive it."  She said "I'll stop paying on it."  I said "Okay.  I'll pay it."  She said, "No, they'll take my car back."  I said "Not if someone is paying on it."  I SHOULD have said "Oh, like you stopped paying on your life insurance and car insurance?"  But I didn't think of it.  Opportunity missed!  Oh well.  She started with the water works then and started screaming "EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE IS BEING TAKEN AWAY!  I HAVE NOTHING!  NOOOOTTTHHHIINNNNGGG!" and ran into her room and slammed the door.

Can we say a fourteen-year-old with emotional issues?  

Now, if she were normal in every other way, I'd feel bad for her.  But her reaction was out of pure selfishness and greed.  She doesn't care other people could get hurt (as I explained to her during this conversation).  She doesn't care if she crashes the only car we have right now.  She doesn't care if they take the car back and my hubby has no way to get to work.  She doesn't care about anything other than precious ability to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants.  During this entire quarantine she's been acting like a baby and saying she's a prisoner and begging me to let her go to the store.  She's 73.  Has dementia.  Has a pacemaker and bad heart.  Has breathing issues.  Has diabetes.  Has all sorts of issues and thinks she's invincible.  Not only that, she could care less if she got sick and then got everyone in the house sick.  It's all about HER freedom.

She is the most selfish person I know and acts like a gigantic baby when she can't get what she wants (like literally stomps on the floor).  And this is what I chose to live with.

My apartment is still open with nobody living in it.  Hmmmm LMAO  Just kidding.  I'd never move back there unless we absolutely had to.  I will tough this out.  Because it's either that or ma goes in a home.  And she's not quite "home" material yet.  I want to love my mother and I do love her, but not as a mother.  I love her as a human who needs help.  I need to start seeing this as my job, not as my family, because she's never been my family.  Just my overlord.

*sigh*  Well, time to go get stuff done around the house.  And yell at her for smoking in the house, because god knows she'll try it again to see what she can get away with.  I just need to stop fearing getting into an argument with her.  I am not 17 anymore.  If she hits me again (like she did 15 years ago) for disagreeing with her, she'll go straight into a home and be labeled as violent.  So I don't need to fear her.  Even though deep down, I do.  But eventually I won't.  I just need to work on it.

If you're wondering why we moved in together, it was a necessity.  If our landlord (who's 85 and frail) died, we'd all be out on our asses.  So it was smarter to buy a house now before that happened.  It was her idea (though ours to begin with, but then we decided not to) and now she's acting like she'd being held hostage.

Oh the joys of quarantining with a narcissist.  I feel for you all out there who have to deal with your own narcs during this stay at home order.  I hope you're all finding ways to keep yourselves safe.




...with my mother.

If you've been here with me  (or even if you're new here, and would like to go back and read from post one) then you know my story.  I started this blog a short while before I realized my mother had narcissistic personality disorder.  Like days before.  I had read about it years before, but I didn't pay much attention to it, because she was really good at hiding it.  But after I figured it out, I realized she really didn't hide it well at all.  It was me who didn't understand the disorder back then.  Day one was a huge fight between us, all over a silly little blog post I wrote that was public.  Family members found it and showed it to her and BAM!  Huge blowup (and large amount of denial and lies on her part).  That whole first week was a blur of "what the hell is going on here??!" as narcs become more erratic the more you make them mad (case in point, the other day my son was talking about his steaks he makes and my mother interrupted him over and over and over again until I intervened and told her to shush--she was angry my son supposedly didn't know how to make steak, and I said he makes the best steaks on earth, to which she replied that I hate steak, and I said "No, ma, I hate your steak, I love his."  And wow, did nothing make sense out of her mouth after that!).  

If you've been here a  bit, you'd know that I went no contact after that first fight.  But my family was struggling so bad for money for those two months, I had to go back.  And of course, I was under her control again.  We all were.  Then I had to take her keys away because I didn't want her to drive anymore.  I couldn't get a doctor to diagnose her with dementia, but I knew she had it (I seem to have a keen dementia radar, as much as I have a narc radar).  So after trying over and over to get her doctors to take her driving privileges away, and kept coming up unsuccessful, I had to give her keys back.  The night I did, I went full no contact for a year and five months.   

Then we made some kind of fucktarded choice in our lives to move out of state, sight unseen, FIVE HUNDRED miles away.  And we get there??  And the place was destroyed (so much so, it should have been condemned).  So we became homeless for three weeks (oh, and our car also got destroyed while there as well!).  And what did we have to do?  Go crawling back to her (in a rental car).  

For the next six months, our lives were total hell.  She was cruel and mean and horrible, and even tried to starve us by not letting us use her car to go to the food pantry to get food, nor would she buy us any.  But we saved enough money to get a shitty car from a buy-here-pay-here place and all of a sudden, we became free again.  And ma got on new meds, and she started to chill out (thank goodness, because she got so angry at me during the holidays that she threw a bunch of cheesecake at me!--all because she was jealous our mutual friend gave us cheesecake and she didn't want us to have any).  

Life has been pretty baseline normal since then.  There've been ups and downs, but I stayed away from her as much I could (though I would do her weekly medication fill, and take her to her appointments).  We lived upstairs, she lived downstairs in our apartment building.  Life began to even out and eventually she got a hair up her ass to look for houses.  So I had to take the reigns, even though I didn't want to move in with her, just to make sure she didn't pick a house with no fenced in yard or something else awful (we have dogs).  She's that kind of person who would pick a house that only SHE liked, and fuck the rest of us, even though we're paying half of everything.  

So I found a house, met the realtor, put in the offer, and he accepted.  All without her seeing it (though with her permission).  And I did all the paperwork, made all the appointments, and did absolutely everything.  And I mean everything, including paying over $1,000 for all the fees.  And she complained the whole way, per usual.  And then came move in time and we moved her entire house for her.  AND paid for the Uhaul.  And then we had to rent a Uhaul for our own stuff.  And she did was complain we weren't doing it fast enough.  The amount of stress she put me in has left me in this state of numbness I can't even explain.  I've felt this way before.  Back before we went no contact the last time.  It was this state of "everything you say is either a lie or bullshit, so why am I even listening to you?"  BUT this time I HAVE to listen to her, as I am her caretaker. 

Oh yes, it turns out I was right, because after we came back and I took her to the doctor, what did she get diagnosed with?  Oh yes.  Dementia.  AND (god dammit) she could have been diagnosed back then if they had just looked at her freaking cat scan from a year prior, as she has dementia which is caused by strokes, which you can see right on it.  ARRRGGGHHH.  Oh well.  I am glad things turned out the way it did.  Becoming homeless and losing everything we owned for a bit (we came back with literally nothing) taught us some damn valuable lessons.  And had I learned she had had dementia back then?  I would never have went no contact.  We needed our life lessons to be where we are at right now and to become who we are right now.  

So here we are.  In a new house.  A very small house but on a fenced-in half acre, which is what we wanted.  My mother is driving me nuts on a daily basis, but it's only been a few weeks, eventually things may even out (or maybe they'll get worse? who knows!) and I'll be able to relax.  Maybe.  

So why, you ask, did we buy a house together, knowing the torture it would be to move in with your narc mother?  Well, we had a 85 year old landlord who could kick the bucket at any moment and there was no where for either of us to go if that happened.  We all needed stability and somewhere safe to live.  So this was pretty much our only choice.  And yes, it's as bad as I though it would be (maybe not quite as bad), but since I expected it, it's not a surprise.  I am working on letting things go (though it doesn't always work these days).  I am working on my own peace and happiness, but I need to shake this pervasive numbness that has entered my being for the past two weeks.  I can't work on me if I can't feel anything.  It's a coping mechanism, I realize this.  It's how I protect myself from her cruel and hurtful words (which have been spewing out of her mouth lately...though only to later in the day be all happy and nice! yay! *sarcasm*).  After all the stress of buying the house, setting up our mutual accounts so we can pay bills together and literally running her life and our life on a daily basis AND not to mention her barking orders at me all day long, I am just wiped.  I literally go to sleep the second my head hits the pillow.  Not in a good way, either.  

I want to enjoy our surroundings.  I want to enjoy our new house (which doesn't feel like my home yet).  I want to enjoy this last stretch of life with my mother, even if I am just putting up with her shit.  I just want to be fully here and present for all of this and shake this numbness.  I just need to give it time.  And maybe I'll make some grateful lists so I can clearly see all the amazingness we have our lives right now.  I hate that I'm missing it all.  

So I vow to be present for all of this.  And find a way to work through all the crap I deal with daily and let it go (and to stop taking offense).  Easier said than done, right?  But that's my goal.  

I'll find a way.  We all will.  





So yesterday my son was switching the doorknobs on his room and the bathroom, because his room's doorknob has a lock on it and the bathroom did not.  He just took it upon himself to get some screwdrivers and just do it himself without asking for help.  I thought that was pretty cool.  But of course, my  mother says "What are you even doing?"

He replies that he wants a lock on the bathroom door (this has been something he's wanted since we moved in, but yesterday he walked in on me using the toilet, so it cemented the fact we really need a lock on the door--it didn't bother me, but my son is super private and always has been).

So rather than just responding "Oh, okay" or some other benign normal answer, she says in an incredulous voice "What?  Who needs a lock on a bathroom door?  I mean, I don't need one."  Then she turns to me and asks in an equally annoying voice "Do you need a lock on the bathroom door?"

I didn't answer because inside I was seething.  Moving in with my mother has brought up all sorts of horrible memories from my childhood that she keeps triggering with her comments and actions.  So when she said this to my son and then turned it to me, all I could think about was as a child she had absolutely no respect for my privacy at all.  Growing up, the only door in our entire house that locked was my bathroom door.  I used that lock regularly because for some reason my mother thought it was acceptable to walk in on me taking a shower or going to the bathroom whenever she pleased.  And many times, if I locked the door, my mother would get a skewer and pop it into the lock to open it at her will.

We had glass shower doors with no shower curtain.  So I'd put up towels so I'd have my own makeshift curtain so whenever they'd come in, I'd have some privacy.  So what did my mother do?  She'd pick on me for doing so, as though I was being ridiculous.  She still to this day picks on me for it.  So when she started in on my son, I should have stood up to her and said something, but I didn't.  I just ignored her because my son was busy changing the doorknobs and also ignoring her.  I feel like I have to pick and choose my battles in our new house because otherwise I'll be yelling at her 24/7.
I'm also having trouble accessing my feelings other than this pervasive numbness that has taken over me since we started moving.  My mother is trying to control every little thing and I feel like I'm going crazy most days trying to find my happiness amidst her complaining and bitching and cruel words.

Thing is, she can be amazingly nice some days.  But I'm still numb on those days because I know it's short-lived and momentary.

The biggest issue I had with my mother repeating that she doesn't need a lock on the bathroom door (and let's be clear here, it's the boys' bathroom, she doesn't even use it) is that, like I said, growing up the bathroom door was the only door that locked in our house.  So, other than closets and under beds, that was my hiding place to keep my dad from beating me.  He would chase me around the house, screaming "WAIT TILL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!!!"  He never did.  I could easily outrun a drunk who could barely stand, much less run.  So I needed that lock on the door for more than just privacy (which is important), I needed it for sheer survival.

And she knows privacy has always been important to me.  That's why she directed the question to me.  She wanted me to answer truthfully so she could pick on me.  That's who she is lately.  Living with her is proving to be a huge ordeal for me.

Here's the funniest part about all of us: her bathroom has a lock!  The door doesn't shut right, but it still has a workable lock for when the door is fixed.  AND she has a shower curtain.  Something I never had growing up.  I should put up a see-thru shower curtain for her and see how she likes it LOL  But I'm not like that.  I don't invade other people's privacy.  I respect it.  I know how it feels to be completely shamed for wanting it.  I don't get it.  I guess it gives her power to take away the privacy of others.  It's disgusting.

But now my kids have a lock on their bathroom door.  So I guess whatever she wanted to bitch about didn't matter, did it?

Whatever she wants to complain about, she can just keep on complaining, as it won't change how we live our lives.  If we want locks on our doors?  We'll have them (speaking of that, I need one on mine too, as she likes to open my door without knocking quite regularly).  If we want privacy in any way, shape or form?  She can say what she likes.  All we need to do is laugh and shake our heads and do what we want anyways.

And if she wants to know why my son wants a lock on his bathroom door?  I should flat out bring up the time she let a scuzzy repairman into the bathroom TO TAKE A PISS while he was taking a bath!  So yeah.  I wonder why feels like his privacy has been violated?  I would never trust her again if I were him.  And I don't trust her.  I never have and never will.  So we all need locks when we have narcs in the house.  On all our bedroom and bathroom doors.  Because if there's one thing a narcissist knows, it's invading our privacy and a need for control.