I'd rather my mother said nothing than praise me.  For any reason, whatsoever, even if I actually did or made something good.  When a narcissist praises someone, it comes from a place of selfishness, not a place of real compassion.  They are trying to make themselves look good, feel good, feel better, or they're copying others who are praising you, so they don't look bad.  But also, it can come from a real place where they are grateful for what you did.  Like tonight: I gave my mother leftover soup I made the other day.  And she ate two bowls (again) of it and cannot stop praising me for how delicious it is.  And it is goddammed delicious.  But praise from her means not only nothing, but it brings out anger in me.  

Earlier today, she asked me to buy her Wheat Thins.  I get to the store, and they are all out of them.  Like for real, the entire section was bare.  But she also asked for a HUGE thing of hot chocolate, which I said no to.  Because the crazy old coot has diabetes!  And she wants sugar hot chocolate, not sugar-free (she refuses sugar free anything, pretty much).  So I felt bad and found a tiny box of raspberry hot chocolate for her and bought that (rather than a huge bin of it).  So we get home and my son tells her about the crackers, but then adds we got her raspberry hot chocolate and she screams at the top of her lungs like a baby "I WANT WHEAT THINS!!!"  So I screamed back from the kitchen "YOU ARE WELCOME FOR WHAT WE DID BUY YOU!"  And she never said thank you.  So I never gave it to her and will not.  If she asks for it tomorrow?  I will say my son barfed on it (for real, he's barfed twice tonight, we found out he's allergic to shrimp).  

Oh, I forgot, before we left, she threatened if we came home without wheat thins we'd have to go back to the store and get them.  There is a snowstorm outside.  The fuck we were.  She also threatened me about the hot chocolate, too, that she'd get a friend to bring her some and I said "Well, I tell your ONE friend not to do it because she would be helping to put you in a diabetic coma".  She said her friend would do it anyways.  So I said she has bad friends.  Then my husband brought up the fact that my mother also buys her friend and her friend's husband tons of sweets, even though they are both also diabetic.  So I said I guess none of them are grown up enough to know how to treat each other.  Which is the damn truth. 

But when she praises my cooking, it's usually only over one thing she LOOOOVVVVVEEESSS.  Just like my painting.  I did a Bob Ross painting of a waterfall and she not only coveted it, she stole it from her (when I went no contact with her in 2016, I had to get into her house while she was gone and steal it back).  But all my other paintings she could not give two shits about.  So how does really, really praising one thing I do or make, and only semi or not at all praising the rest, give any credence to that praise of that one thing?  It doesn't.  And it pisses me off when it happens.  

I bust my ass every single day making dinner for my house.  And every day she says "Thank you for the dinner, it was real good."  But she says that every single day, in a very monotone voice.  It's just something she says to say thank you.  And I am fine with that.  Even when I do bust my ass more one some days than others.  It doesn't matter.  But when she LOVES something, she won't shut up about it.  Like, over the top, to the point of saccharine sweet fakeness.  And I am sure she means it, but it's either a) she doesn't know how to properly praise someone or b) she's pushing it so hard to prove something to me, but mostly to herself.  Like she's surprised she's capable of actually liking something so much because she's usually horribly negative about everything.  I think it's both.  I think she goes over the top because she has no idea how to be positive at all.  So she flies right past normal and heads right into "fake sounding' territory, all because she wants everyone to know she actually likes something.  

But other times, she's just lying.  

So when you have someone like that in your life, getting compliments means nothing to you.  Or it brings up negative feelings because you don't know what to make of it.  

Like I said, it's better to get no compliments than any at all, because it either all is fake or sounds fake.  But to me, it makes no difference.  It's all a manipulation anyways.  

Ugh.  I just want a normal life again where I don't have to worry about stupid stuff like this.  But one day, she'll be in a home a home and we'll go back to being normal again.  Until then, I just have to do my best to ignore it all.  Or find a way to laugh at it.  

Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the kitchen

My mother was angry

And would not stop bitchin'

She wanted a pie

And some ice cream, too

But I was done shopping

I was completely through

So she asked my son

To take her to the store

He said no

So she bitched some more

I said "Hey ma, 

I'm making pumpkin pie"

But that didn't matter,

So she huffed away with a sigh

Now she's spent the entire day

Locked in her room

While the kids cleaned up

Swept the floor with a broom

She won't speak to anyone

From her perch on her chair

Playing seek and find games

With rollers in her hair

She loves control

And being the boss

When she can't, she pouts

So too bad, it's her loss

When she could just be nice

And hang out with the crew

But now she's all alone

Holed up in her room

But it's her choice

And the boys are playing chess

In the kitchen with their dad

And soon we'll have a mess

As I'm making a ham

And a pot of mashed potatoes on the side

Some peas with gravy

And a big 'ol pumpkin pie

Then after dinner

We'll listen to a show

"A Christmas Carol" with Patrick Stewart

Aka Jean Luc Picard as some of you know

Then we'll open our gifts

While we listen to some songs

Today we also got our video doorbell

The calls my phone with a ding-dong

Tomorrow, we eat lasagna

That I make with cheese tortellini

Garlic bread on the side

Hopefully mom won't still be a weenie

Even though her mood swings

Make the holidays suck

Maybe I can ignore it?

And instead, not give a fuck?

Because I can't let her ruin

My mood or our fun

Even though I'm sick

With bad allergies a ton

Because Christmas is not

About how my mother feels

It's about my actual family

And our delicious holiday meals

And it's about the gifts 

That I can't wait for them to open

And it's about my husband getting time off

From work, to stay home and watch some Lo Pan 

(haha that doesn't rhyme! I'm talking about Lo Pan from "Big Trouble in Little China" which is our family movie we watch all the time--that and "The Big Lebowski").  

So, my mom can just chill the fuck out

While we just all do our thing right

Having fun together as the Brooks Family

So Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!! 

For the past two days, mother has been crabby AF.  Well, in her way.  Which means she says crabby things to people but sometimes acts like it's supposed to be funny.  But still, she's snappy, rude, says really stupid things, and even will start yelling at people.  And if you've been here before, you know who she's aiming it all at: my oldest son.  The only person in this house who humors her.  The only person in this house that jokes around with her on a regular basis.  The only person in this house who gives her the time of day most days.  And I tell you what, she gets snippy with him on Christmas (and I am fully expecting her to)?  I am going to lay out for her.  

I'm going to tell her if she wants my son to still be the nicest person in the house to her, and to still pay attention to her, then she better stop treating him like dirt.  I'm going to tell her she's goddamned lucky that he still even likes her with the amount of bullshit she's given him since day one.  And if she doesn't cut that shit out, she's going to end up having one less person talking to her.  And it will be all her fault.  

Oh, I don't give shit that it's a holiday.  I've had it up to here (where? I don't know, anywhere LOL) with her shitty attitude towards my son.  And it's all going to come out if she doesn't knock this shit off.  

In other news, 30 years ago today I dumped my rapist.  I called him over, after he had raped me out of my virginity at age fourteen and gave him his Christmas gift and almost told him I didn't want to see him anymore.  But he knew I was going to dump him, so he quickly dumped me first, but I still consider the situation as me dumping him, as I was opening my mouth to say it, and he cut me off.  The prick. 

Here is the odd situation: I messaged his ex-wife recently to tell her what he did (well, I wasn't telling her what he did as my only reason for messaging her, I wanted to know how he turned out), and she said NOTHING about my rape and just went on and on and on about what kind of bad husband he was.  I said, "Oh, he hit you then?"  Nope.  He was just ignoring and neglectful.  Oh.  Um.  Okay.  So, uh, I tell you I was raped out of my virginity at FOURTEEN YEARS OLD and all you have to say is "Oh yeah?  Well, he ignored me.  How ya like those apples?"  Um yeah, not the same thing, lady, but okay, sure.  

So I yelled at her.  Well, kinda.  I said "So, I tell you he raped me when I was a child, and all you have to say is he "neglected you" and you don't even acknowledge what I said to you?  Wow.  This was a waste of time.

The thing is?  I am really, really angry he's just a normal guy.  I mean, he could still be a sexual predator and maybe his ex-wife doesn't know it.  But he was 19.  I wasn't that much younger than him.  So, if he's a sexual abuser, I'd assume he'd abuse every woman he was with, not just me.  And she also told me that his new girlfriend is really happy with him and they're getting married.  So what the fuck?  Why did he rape ME?  What was it about ME that caused him to do what he did?  That's what I am really mad about.  It's like, I was some "one off" victim and supposedly he never did it again?  Not that I want him to have.  I mean, I guess I should be grateful he hasn't hurt anyone else (that I know of).  But why me?  Why did he get to steal my virginity, before I was ready in the least to be sexual with anyone at all yet??  What made me so appealing to him that he wanted to hurt me, and nobody else?  

It's like, now I just have to put this horrible experience on a shelf and just leave it there.  Because it's some kind of anomaly (for him, not for me--this type of thing has happened to me too many times to count) that I'll never get closure on.  It's not fair he can just do what he did and nobody cares.  He can just move on and I get to sit here and deal with the fallout of the fact that my first "sexual" experience I ever had with a boy was him making me feel that if I tried to get away from him or fight, that he'd brutally rape me.  That shit shapes the entire rest of your life in that department.  I guess I really need to do more work on this to heal.  Because I am still, thirty years later, very fucking angry.  Not as much that it happened in the first place (though that really sucks), but that it happened and for my entire goddamned life and all I've been labeled a whore, as though what happened to me was my fault.  Or the fact that nobody gives two shits.  Or the fact that I left the relationship and immediately fell into the arms of another man who sexually, physically, mentally, and emotionally abused me for two fucking years.  All because I thought I didn't deserve better.  

But here's the deal: I don't want every single Dec. 23rd to be about him.  I don't know if I can change that, but I'm going to try.  Instead, today was about spending time with my kids.  It was about talking to a stranger in line at Kohl's, reminiscing about high school.  It was about running into my ex-sister-in-law with her beautiful kids and her horrible mother (though she was nice today, but talk about a RAGING overt narcissist...good lord).  It was about shopping and picking out a gift for Mr. Brooks.  It just has to stop being about that stupid fucking idiot.  That boy who was in college who thought he won his prize with me.  I need to take that away from him, even if he doesn't think he did anything wrong.  But healing from that, I have no idea what it looks like.  Or where to start.  

Well, for one, I'm working with IFS and creating an art journal based on that type of psychology, so I will work this into it, too.  But from there, I don't know.  

Tomorrow is another day.  And I'll eventually find a way to work through this.  But for now, today is still the day I dumped my rapist 30 years ago.  Happy Anniversary, Mitch.  I honestly do hope you changed your life and became a better person than you were when you were with me.  Not for you, but for the women you could have also raped, but hopefully didn't.  

Hey guys!  What's up with you?  Me?  Not much.  Just over here getting triggered for the holidays.  

So, my mother's been getting a card every single day in the mail for a week.  Me?  Nothing.  Her cards are all addressed to HER, and not the entire house.  Which I find fucking rude.  I didn't ask to keep my family separate from me.  I don't like their fucking asses, but still.  She is the reason they don't like me.  She is the reason they don't talk to me.  Granted yes, I wrote two blog posts on a different blog many years ago, outlining my parent's abuse of me (though one was about my grandparents having dementia).  And in both I blamed my family for not a) coming to my rescue as a child and b) for not helping out with our grandparents while my FATHER LAID DYING in the hospital (so I could not visit him, since I had to take care of grandma).  Wait, I just thought of something, she put her in a home after my father died, but she didn't while he was sick.  That's so fucked up.  Anyways.  

So now they all want to have a relationship with my mother, even though they did terrible things to me after I wrote those two ANONYMOUS blog posts (how my cousin's daughter found them, is beyond me), on my anonymous blog, then fine.  It's just aggravating as all fuck to have them in my life at all.  I want to just chuck the cards in the garbage when they come, but I don't.  I give them to her, even though it pisses me off.  

Oh, I did chuck two recent cards in the garbage.  My cousin's shitty daughter sent my mother an invitation to her wedding, as well as a "save the date" card.  Both were past the RSVP date for the wedding, which I found hilarious.  But they were also in another state, which she knew my mother would not be going to (but I guarnatee you they just wanted money from her).  But again, she sent it to my mother only, not us.  When we all moved in here last year, they all gave my mother a housewarming gift.  Not us.  They didn't give her a gift when she moved into her last apartment.  I find it quite funny all of a sudden, she is on their radar, when she never used to be.  Which looks to me like it's a little bit more about showing us that we don't matter, more than it's about my actual mother.  Which is totally stupid.  I don't want to matter to them.  I mean, my crazy ass cousin and her kid told my entire family that I am, and I quote "fucking crazy" (her words, not mine), all because I wrote some very truthful blog posts.  Gosh.  What would she do if I knew about this entire blog here?  Huh.  I think she might blow more than just a gasket.  To top it all off, my mother went to a family reunion and joined in with my cousin and told everyone also that I was fucking crazy, and turned everyone against me.  I mean, it's one thing when your cousin says shit about you, but when your mother does?  People tend to believe that.  Too bad they can't spot a crazy narcissistic liar when they hear one.  But oh well.  People who choose to believe gossip deserve to keep believing it.

Anyways, that was bugging me.  Then I finally get a Christmas card from my grandma.  See, this woman is blood-grandma, so she's not related to the rest of the kooks in my family.  So, I open the card and it's cute, with all sorts of interesting info about my grandma's life.  But then I see she also sent a letter in a different envelope.  So, I open it, and find that it's a letter from my mother, sent to my grandmother, dated 23 years ago.  What in the freaking cornholio was this?  

So, I read through the card more and she said she found this letter and thought I would like it.  Yes, Grandma, I want a letter where my mother is bashing me to make me look stupid.  But I tell you what, it really cements my knowledge of just how long my mother's been talking shit about to everyone else.  

So then, I started copying the letter into this blog post and guess what?  I read it wrong.  She wasn't bashing me at all.  She worded something in a way that upon first glance looked as though she was being mean and blaming me for something that wasn't my fault.  But then when I actually read it through again, I saw that my mother was talking about something else entirely.  Oops.  Well now, don't I feel stupid.  

Meh, it was an easy mistake to make.  The way she worded it was off.  Then again, the way she worded the entire letter was off.  Makes me wonder if she's had dementia for the past 23 years, because I always thought my mother was articulate and this letter was more than a little confusing.  Much of it doesn't make any sense.  And I also thought my mother could spell well.  There were so many typos and random extra spaces, I would never even think that my mother was the one who wrote it.  But maybe she was always like that?  Maybe I just never noticed?  Strange.  

So, while my family still makes me mad that they all believe my cousin and my mother about me and don't talk to me (though again, I don't want them to...it's such an odd feeling to be hurt by something I don't even want--I guess it's the rejecting me over lies is what bugs me), and the fact that my mother still is in contact with all these assholes, when she is the one who made this mess what it is, it just really grinds my gears.  I hate the holidays for that reason.  The feelings of rejection and then rubbing it in my face my sending my mother holiday cards, but not including our names on them.  I should not let this bother me, but it does.  

But at least she didn't talk shit about me to my grandmother.  Well, at least not this time LOL  

I know it's past the 30 days, but today's mantra is a double: "Read things more than once, just to make sure of their meaning." and "Family sucks, but they aren't really your family, are they?"  Ha!  I'm not blood related to those fuckers :)  Lucky me!  Whoo hoo!  LOL 

Today we took mother to Walgreens.  But right before she changed her mind and asked to go to the gas station also.  So I still have no idea what my mother was planning on buying us at Walgreens.  But as it turns out, she bought everyone $20 worth of scratch tickets.  Including herself.  Which is fine, it's her money, so she can buy herself pretty much anything she likes (though not cleaners, as she tends to buy bleach cleaners, and I am very sensitive to bleach with my allergies--something she does not care about and still buys if she's allowed).  And scratch tickets are a cute idea for a holiday gift, so that works out in a fun way.  And we went to Walgreens, and she bought everyone candy, too, which sucks, because don't want candy, which she knows.  But oh well.  It's once a year and she can't work her brain anymore to think of gifts, so I think this worked out better than having her try to actually find real gifts for everyone.  And these are real gifts.  Probably the nicest things she's ever bought anyone, in reality.  Usually her gifts are manipulations.  And this year they're not.  So that's refreshing.

Anyways, she was well-behaved, for the most part.  Except when she saw a black woman.  For some reason she's obsessed with black women's hair.  Damn old crazy white ladies.  She kept commenting on her hairstyle, LOUDLY, and eventually it got to the point I said, "Do you want Mr. Brooks to take you to the car?" (I asked in a nice way, not meanly).  One time were at the ER and she kept nudging me HARD with her elbow (my mother hurts people when she touches them, no matter how she does it) and started saying right in front of the black woman sitting directly across from us, "HEY!  DO YOU THINK I SHOULD GET MY HAIR DONE LIKE HERS??"  Geezus.  But this time she was just commenting on the style and how long it must take her get her hair done, but she just would not stop, which was getting embarrassing.  And then she heard some Mexican guys speaking Spanish nearby and kept mimicking them by speaking gibberish really loudly.  

I really honestly hate taking her in public.  

I normally say "Sorry, she has dementia!"  But how many times can you say that in a day?  Thank goodness we only went to those two stores, because who knows what she'd say next. 

We came home and her friend Christmas called and all she kept saying to Christmas that I wouldn't allowed Christmas to take my mother to the store instead of us and how she's never allowed to leave the house.  Not this shit again.

Sigh.  

My mother needs someone to do her debit card for her.  She can't hear people all the time, so I have to repeat things for her.  She gets confused, so I have to help her.  Why would I let another demented old woman take my mother to store?  What, so they can get lost and end up in Canada together?  

I am just so tired of this.  I want to move away from here.  I want to go somewhere else and live my own life with my family.  I am tired of being her caretaker.  Today, on day 30 of this 30-day experiment, I don't feel I am too much more better off, but I guess I am.  I mean, in the past 30 days, her dementia has worsened.  So I have become much more aware of the fact she still has dementia, so I do take things less personally.  I just thought I'd be so much more, oh, I don't know, healed?  Ugh.  Oh well.  I think the idea here is that healing takes TIME.  And lots of it.  You can't rush it.  Not even if you're trying to be mindful about it.  So I just have to stick to the idea of creating mantras every single day, and remembering them.  I will write a recap of them all from this month at the end of this post.  

Though I will say that blogging about it all has really helped me a lot.  I think the idea of working out the past along with the present has been quite therapeutic.  

So, my plan for the rest of this year (2020): 

• clean out more of the basement, purge everything that I can
• blog when I find shit that triggers me
• finish the bathrooms (putting down the subflooring and flooring)
• possibly find an RV/fifth wheel
• and just relax whenever I can

So, for the past few days, my mother has been talking about having my oldest son (her scapegoat) take her to Walgreens to get everyone Christmas presents.  I could not fathom what she would buy at Walgreens, but with her dementia, that store is her safe space, the one she is most familiar with, so it would have been fine.  But my son hates taking her anywhere, mostly because she uses him as her way to get what she wants, thinking she can talk him into doing anything she wants.  And that's because he's so nice to her.  

Isn't it sad she picks the one person in the house that is the nicest to her to be her scapegoat?  But that's how narcissists are.  They choose people who they think they can control, which is usually the nicest person to them.  

So, she said "I need a lot of money!  I need at least a hundred dollars!"  I said okay, as we are four people and she needs to buy four presents, so $100 isn't too much to ask for.  Then she said "Well, actually, I need more like $200!"  I laughed.  Hard.  She said "What??  That's only $20 a person if it's a $100!"  I corrected her math and then said "I didn't spend more than that on anyone in the house, so it's fine."  I mean, that was my plan, but I did spend more than $25 a per person, but she doesn't need to know that.  Plus, what on earth could she buy at Walgreens for more than $25 person?  Candy.  That's what.  I guarantee you she wanted to go and spend $100 on friggin' candy.  For herself.  I am not exaggerating here.  She used to spend that every single month before I took control of her finances.  On just candy and random cleaners (she has an obsession with buying cleaners).  I said "Why would you need $200?  You do not need to spend that much on gifts."  She said "Oh, it's for stuff I want, too."  I giggled said "Well, then you'll wait to get the stuff you want until you go with me.  Because I know you, you buy crazy shit."  She laughed.  But she assumed I was kidding.  I was not.  I do not allow her to go to regular stores most of the time because she will fill up her cart with such random and expensive shit that I have to fight with her to put it back.  And who wants to do that all the time?

Then earlier today she said "Don't forget to put money in my account.  I need like $250."  I laughed again.  And then she got angry.  Oh, she was serious.  Um, okay.   But I have to remind myself, she has dementia.  Which is not just forgetting things, but also, they get crazy ideas and paranoia.  So, it wasn't just her forgetting I said no to the larger amount of money, it's the entire fact she asked for it to begin with.  I said, "I already told you, ma, that is too much money."  And then she stomped her feet and whined and said, "Well just tell me how much I have so I know what I can get!"  

The funny part is that you can buy all the same shit at Walgreens.com as you can in the store.  She didn't have to wait for us to take her, but then again, she wanted to get out of the house.  So, we'll take her tomorrow, but I am NOT looking forward to her bitching about how much money she has.  I am giving her $100, she already has money in her bank, so she'll have plenty.  

Today's mantra is "Don't forget about the dementia."  Because when I forget, I take her actions personally.  But when I remember, the woman is losing her mind, then I take everything she says with a grain of salt and let it roll off my back.  It's okay if she gets angry with me, because her dementia makes her have bouts of anger.  And it will only get worse.  So, being prepared for that now is better than letting her actions and words bother me and then later on, when her dementia is worse, I'll be stuck trying to figure out how to respond to her when she's really irate.  

Today we did a lot of running around and picking up stuff we need to redo our bathroom floors, finally.  Tomorrow we get the wood, and we begin the renovation.  Ourselves.  Yay.  Not looking forward to removing our toilet or reinstalling it.  I have no idea how to do it.  And if YouTube cannot make me feel confident that I can do it without breaking anything or making a mess, then I will call someone to come take them out.  I don't think it'll be done tomorrow, but hopefully this week.  Just as long as it's before Christmas.  

As an atheist, I still love Christmas, but this year it's just been a clusterfuck.  I do have mostly everyone's gifts though.  So that's something.  I just need something for Mr. Brooks, and we're done.  Yay :)  

Today my mother started exhibiting worse dementia symptoms.  She thought the dog was the cat, even though at first, she thought he was a dog, which he was.  But then she thought she was wrong, and thought she was going crazy thinking he was a dog.  But it was the dog.  It was always the dog.  And the other day, she put her coffee in the fridge to warm it up, thinking it was the microwave.  So my annoyance with her is lessening.  When I can see my mother is acting from her dementia, she doesn't bother me.  But when she's acting from a place of narcissism, it really opens up my wounds and reactivates my pain.  But it's been mostly better this past week.  Thank goodness.  But we'll see how long that lasts.  If it's her cycling mood, she'll be back to her bitchy self again soon.  But if it's her dementia, it may never go completely back.  Usually, her cycles do not last this long, but we'll see.

The more I look back at her old behavior since we moved in, the more I realize just how much she's changed.  Not on purpose, but because of her dementia.  She used to be obsessive over EVERYTHING.  And now, it's like she's a totally different person (most of the time).  She will revert back sometimes, but mostly, she's done a complete 180 with her personality.  It's quite amazing.  

I forget to relax sometimes.  I forget that she's not the same anymore, so I still get fearful and worked up, thinking she's going to do this or say that.   But she doesn't.  And when she does, it's minimal and easy to manage.  I need to remember that I can free myself more and more from the prison I felt I was put into the moment we stepped into this house.  Well, not the moment, as it took a few weeks to really grind into my soul that I wasn't welcome in this house.  And if I were to be seen, then I was to be used.  Because that's how she treated me from day one.  But now?  Not so much anymore.  I can let out a breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding for so long.  I get worked up and angry at the little stuff, but that makes me forget that there is hardly any big stuff anymore.  Just little tedious things that annoy me.  

Deep breath.  I can relax a little more.  Not completely, but enough to not have to feel like she's the Warden and I am the prisoner anymore.  And I don't need to overreact to the little stuff anymore, because it's all little stuff now.  And maybe I can start learning to let it go?  We'll see.  

Today's mantra "Don't sweat the small stuff, because it's all small stuff anymore, and who wants to be stressed out by stupid small stuff?"  Not me.  Then again, I don't want to be stressed out by anything at all.  Maybe I should take up smoking pot?  Hmm.  I'll have to think about that one.

Ok, tomorrow we'll be working on the bathrooms (hopefully) and hopefully we'll find a truck to buy this week.  I hope so!  One step closer to getting a fifth-wheel and having our own home again.  Whoo hoo!

Today has been okay.  I had a migraine last night and woke up with it this morning, which lasted a good part of the day.  My neck and shoulder were hurting really badly, which pushed into my forehead and teeth.  So I spent most of my day in bed, playing video games with my hubby and kids.  They were all paying "Project Zomboid" on Steam, while I was playing "Kynseed", also on Steam (which is like "Stardew Valley" somewhat...though my favorite SV type of game is "Graveyard Keeper", also on Steam).  So, Mr. Brooks' computer refused to play their zombie game (which I was playing for a tiny bit, but I am HORRIBLE at it and would die about 3 seconds into spawning in over and over again) so he borrowed mine (and still is using it right now).  I have several laptops: one for gaming (that's hooked up to our large screen TV in our bedroom), one for writing, and one tiny one I use if I leave the house.  So, he can play, while I blog, which is nice.  

And as I was thinking of something to do while he was using my gaming computer (it's not a gaming laptop, it's just a laptop I use for gaming, as my dog broke my screen and I can't use it without a monitor, which I use my large screen TV for), I started going through my other Facebook account on my blogging computer, the one I used recently to message my rapist's ex-wife (that was a strange conversation), and the daughters of the man who sexually....touched me? Abused me?  Assaulted me?  I am not sure how to put it.  He grabbed my ass and tried to come into my house after I babysat his daughters one night during a thunderstorm when I was sixteen.  So, I got brave a few weeks ago and messaged these three people, as well as sent a Christmas card to my old neighbor whose uncle touched me inappropriately as an adult in 2014 or so, to tell her what he did to me.  And I completely forgot I messaged the people on Facebook until I opened that account today and saw responses.  At first, the one daughter told me that nobody named my name ever babysat her, but then she realized who I was later after thinking about it.  The ex-wife of my rapist said NOTHING about him raping me, but told me all about how he was a "neglectful father and husband" to her.  Yeah.  That was worth talking to her for.  I just wanted to know if he stayed abusive or raped anyone else.  Apparently, they just "weren't meant to be for one another".  Ooh.  Lucky her.  I wanted to write back and thank her for ignoring what I said and instead talked about what horrible and shitty husband he was to her by him ignoring her and her kids.  Because that's what our conversation should have totally been about.  But I didn't.  I just let it go, because you can't teach someone like that how to be a proper human.  You just have to giggle and walk away.  

But when I opened that FB account, I saw pictures from seven years ago posted on my feed when I made my mother a quilted pillow for Christmas.  I forgot I had made that.  I was the only quilt I ever made that turned out perfectly.  And my mother, when I went no contact with her in 2016, got rid of it.  Just like she did with all the pictures of us: me, Mr. Brooks, and the kids.  She just packed them away like we didn't exist.  And never put them back up.  

Funny thing, I found them two nights ago.  I will go back and write what happened these past couple days, since I didn't write all weekend (I tend to stay off blogging when Mr. Brooks is home).  But I made the decision to get rid of them all.  The box, when I found it, made me super angry and hurt, and I'll write more about that in those particular posts (though if you're reading this later, you'll have already read about it).  

So, I'm on this FB account, and I see these pics show up in my feed as memories, and I realized something: I don't need to hold onto items that don't bring me joy or have a use in my house anymore.  I mean, she didn't for me, so why should I hold onto anything of hers?  I honestly don't care about stupid shit that means nothing to me, so why am I storing it?   

I also realized that I should never, EVER, do anything or buy anything or make anything special for my mother again.  EVER.  You'll read about the potatoes the other night, which is where this idea started.  I do something special for her and she either never says thank you or she OVERLY says thank you, which means she's making up for internal negative thoughts or external negative words she said to me.  So, her profusely thanking me for something is just bullshit.  Same goes for profusely over explaining herself.  Or profusely giving me praise.  It's all stemming from guilt.  Not of actually feeling bad, but fear of me realizing she's being horrible.  She will lie her way out of looking bad, which is her specialty, which is what the profuse (insert fakeness here) is all about.  

So, instead, which is something I adopted this holiday already, she will get utilitarian gifts, normal plain food without me going out of my way to make it tasty (she has no sense of smell or taste and cannot taste anything I make her anyways), normal plain responses (which is what she gets from me already), and everything else in boring "grey rock" form.  For Christmas this year, she will get a pair of jeans, a new bathrobe (since she has one, but freaks out if I am going to wash it, thinking she won't get it back in time for bed, so having two will combat that fear for her), a bag of like 10 books (she's an avid reader), and a Christmas cat-scratching house for the cats (not all the cats are hers, but she loves cat stuff).  One year I sewed her a bathrobe, which she promptly threw away (she wasn't even mad at me).  I should have seen behavior this years ago, that nothing I make is sacred for her, so by proxy, it's not safe with her.  And nothing I buy is good enough for her, as she always complains.  So she will not get a damn thing from me, or my family, that's special ever again.  And just in time for her to have enough dementia that she won't even remember.  Yay.  

Her dementia is getting worse, y'all.  She can't remember much of anything anymore, and acts like everything I do is new, even though I've done it a 100x for her.  Which I guess is kind of fun for her.  I mean, when you're 74 you've seen so much, that nothing is new anymore.  But wait!  Then comes dementia!  And everything is new!  Wheeeeee!  

Anyways, she hasn't asked once about getting gifts for people, which is really, really not her style.  So that's one way I can tell she's going off the deep end.  I mean, she's a total shopaholic, guys.  This is really not like her.  Which is fine by me, her gifts are usually either over the top or kind of horrible.  AND she LOVES to use gifts as a way to play games with people.  "Oh, I hate you this year, so you get something I bought from the resale shop for dollar.  And you?  Oh, I want to punish the person I hate so I am going to buy you $100 worth of stuff so they can be all sad about their shitty gift!  Yay for playing games with my family!!  Wheeeeee!"  Yeah, I do NOT miss that, at all.  

But I really miss that pillow, guys.  It was huge and for once, something I made, turned out well.  Here is a pic of it: 

When it was done, the back was all one piece of fabric and had a zipper at the top to put a pillow in.  And she just chucked it.  All because I wasn't speaking to her.  

Because narcissistic mother's egos are so fragile that the moment you remind them of just how awful they truly are, their ego jumps in and FREAKS THE FUCK OUT about it, because feeling that amount of emptiness is too scary for them to face.  In IFS these parts of their personalities are called "the firefighters".  They are a type of protector whose job it is to put out the fucking fire.  And feeling that void, that swirling vortex of emptiness, that our mothers are always finding ways to dance around but not feel, is a definite fire that needs putting out.  Firefighters to the rescue!

So, if they can push those feelings out by pushing them onto us (like my post here explains), then that's what the firefighters will do.  It's automatic, without much thinking about it.  It's a "sirens going off in their heads" kind of emergency, because feeling that void is too much for them to bear.  Like how our brains can sometimes push out bad memories, so we don't break our brains trying to understand them.  Peering into that void, may just break them completely.  So, they avoid it all costs.

Why does this void filled with such negativity exist?  Because of two reasons (well, more than two, but two underlying reasons): 1) they were raised by narcissistic parents, who abused them.  And 2) they couldn't cope with the abuse due to the fact the void has been there since birth, being that they are sociopaths.  These things are what makes our mothers have a void that is filled with nothing but self-hatred and anger.  NPD is the coping mechanism a sociopath/psychopath uses to deal with their issues surrounding their enormous amounts of emptiness they feel inside.  A sociopath is born with a gaping hole where their "soul" should be (as an atheist, I still like to use the word "soul" as a way to describe what makes us human: love, caring, empathy, forgiveness, being honest & real, having remorse, etc.).  And sometimes that hole is filled with abuse & cruelty from their own parents, and other times, with massive amounts of fake love (like the Dursleys, in Harry Potter), in which they know will be taken away if they don't do what their parents want.  Or maybe they don't care?  I guess it depends on how much of a sociopath/psychopath they are.  

This doesn't give them an excuse to be abusive.  But it does give an explanation, which leaves us, the children of these crazy ass people, out of the line of blame.  We did not cause the way they treat us.  We could have been the best children on earth, and we'd still be treated like shit, all because their emotionally stunted "firefighters" were protecting them, in the worst way possible: by lashing out to protect them from falling into that vortex of nothingness where their soul should be. 

And throwing my pillow away, the one I spend hours making for her and thinking she'd love it, was her lashing out because she could not face that the fact it was HER fault I stopped talking to her for fourteen months.  That everything I said about her during that time (and after) was true.  And mostly, realzing that she wasn't a good mother to me.  Instead, her lashing out placed the blame square on me, and throwing someone's work away is the most obvious thing to do when you are being treated badly by someone, right?  I mean, why keep something someone made you if they don't love you the way you deserve to be loved and treated, right?  Now that I think about it, she treated me going no-contact with her as though I broke up with her and she was a scorned ex-girlfriend or ex-wife.  Boxing up everything that reminded her of me and my family and getting rid of it all.  It's kind of really insane when you think about it. 

So, my mantra for today is: "I can forgive you for being the way you are, but I will not allow you to repeat those mistakes again with me.  I will protect myself from you by being as grey rock as I can be with you."  

Forgiving her for being a narcissist doesn't mean I forgive all the instances of her abuse.  It just means I forgive her for being born with a broken brain.  That's it.  What she does with that broken brain is her choice.  I can forgive the cause, but I don't have to forgive the actions.  Which could be a shortened version of my mantra above.

Until tomorrow.

I am trying to purge my basement and I found a box of pictures today that were my mothers in her house before I went no contact with her.  Her entire south wall of her dining room was covered in pictures of me, my husband, and our kids.  It was really cute.  And when I went no contact with her, she ripped them all down and threw them in a box, along with anything that was mine, even from when I was a kid.  And she tried to get rid of my stuff, but kept the pictures in the box.  Then when we came back into her life, she still never put them back up and took the box with her here, when we moved in 2020.  

Today, I found that box and emptied it and threw away all of the frames, keeping the pics for myself.  Though I may pitch those, too, as I already have copies.  One frame had five pictures in it, all wedding photos: of my mom and dad, of my mom and her second husband, of me and Mr. Brooks, and I think a couple more of my mom and her second husband.  But I don't want those pictures.  Her marriage to her second husband felt like a sham, as he was still in love with his ex (his baby mama, who I talk about in my memoir), and he only married my mother as a way to stick it to his ex, so she didn't get any of his veteran money after he died (he knew he was dying at the time).  He was angry with his ex, and used my mother as a way to get revenge on her.  Which sounds fucked, but my mother didn't treat his kids well, which made him miserable, so I guess she deserved it.  She didn't want to share her husband, or her time, with his kids, with me, with my kids, or anyone else for that matter.  And if someone took her time away from him for any reason, she would get irate and cruel.  She just wanted to spend every single moment with him and fuck everyone else.  Turns out, she wanted to spend all her time with someone who was in love with someone else.  Like I said, she kind of deserved it.

So, why would I want any of those pictures of her and him together?  Before they got together, he treated me like shit.  Then he got mentally better and was nice to me.  Then my mother tore him right back down to feeling like did before, and he was cruel to me again.  During this time, I was going through a huge upswing in my anxiety, and really needed my mother to be there for me.  But since she had someone better to spend her time with, she just abandoned me.  Or she acted resentful towards me when I did end up having to have her spend any amount of time with me.  

When I write this, I am filled with hatred towards her.  Not the kind of hatred that wishes anything bad on her, but the kind that makes me wonder why I am even here in this house with her.  Back in 2010, I needed my mother, just as I did back in 2001 when I had to have surgery so I didn't die.  But in 2001, she didn't have anyone to ignore me over, so she was there for me.  Not like a caring mother, but just by being present.  But in 2010, she couldn't even do that.  And I almost ended up in a mental hospital because of it.  

I forgot how many times she's just pushed me off, pushed me away, and forgotten about me.  But then I remember and then I ask myself, why the fuck do I ever feel guilt for trying to do right by my family?  Why do I feel bad that I choose them over her, and always will?  Why am I scared to move forward in life without her?  She's never been there for me.  Only monetarily.  And that's the only reason I am here now.  If we were rich?  I would 100% already have her in a home.  Sometimes I do wonder if there is some sort of fate guiding the world, as though me being back in her life was something I needed to go through before she leaves this earth (whether mentally or physically), so maybe I can heal.  Because it's not just me, it's her, too.  She gets to live with some sort of semblance of freedom during these last years.  But what do my kids get?  My husband?  I don't want to think that the world revolves around me or my mother, even if she thinks it does.  Because it doesn't.  I know there is no fate, but I do know I can be learning something from all of this.  And that's what matters.  

So, today's mantra is "Find another reason for being here, other than financial reasons.  If there is none, then make sure you're making the best out of the financial situation, because if you're getting nothing else out of it, at least make the best of what you do have."  

And I am going to make sure I chuck those pictures of her and him away.  Because that whole thing was just a narcissistic sham, a game.  And all those pictures do is remind of really, really bad times.  Or at least I should put them in a box labeled "Assholes".   That might make me feel better LOL

Tonight I fixed my mother her favorite garlic chicken, with mashed potatoes, and veggies.  She's always on my ass about getting certain food, and tonight, I realize that I have no idea why.  I think it's because she likes to think something is her favorite, but in reality, she can't taste a damn thing.  I could feed her rubber chicken and she'd have no clue. 

So there are these frozen garlic chicken breasts from Spauldings, our local cheap (but good quality) grocery store.  She's always asking me for them, and I made one for her tonight, as well as putting some really potent garlic butter in her mashed potatoes.  She asked me for those French-fried onions that you put on top of green bean casserole to put in her potatoes, but I didn't have any.  So I surprised her with the garlic butter I bought for when I made garlic bread a few nights ago.  

I walked into the room after she was eating and I said "Hey, you like those potatoes?  There's garlic butter in them!".  She said "Meh.  I can't taste any garlic in them, but they are pretty cold."  I just stared at her.  So she looked back and me and said "Well, that doesn't mean they're bad."  I wanted to yell "You know where the microwave is, don't you??  You can warm your food up if it's not warm enough, rather than complaining to me about it!"  But I didn't.  I just left the room.  

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I refuse to do anything special for her anymore.  Because when I do, she just crinkles her nose up at me.  

And she didn't even realize I gave her garlic chicken.  Or if she did, she didn't give two shits.  So I am not buying them again.  They are expensive, and I only get them because if I don't keep them in supply, she gets on my case about it.  But no more.  I am done with that.  I will give her plain chicken, mostly because why waste spice on a person who can't taste??  It's just silly. 

Also, she's a diabetic and insists on me buying her massive amounts of sugar.  I don't.  But she insists.  Including soda.  So I started buying her diet A&W, and I take all the labels off of them and she has no idea.  The same goes for Dawn dishsoap.  She INSISTS I buy her dawn, so I buy Dawn, and refill it with the cheaper Dawn-knockoff brand.  She has no idea.  

I am not writing this because I am angry with her.  Yes, it's annoying whenever I think I am doing something she likes, she has to put it down or complain about it.  She's done that for my entire life.  And unlike my old idiot therapist, Jake from State Farm, I don't deserve her treating me that way because I should know better.  I don't know better than to just forget for a moment I have a mother with NPD and expect her to act like a normal person.  I don't know any better than that, because it's freaking normal.  But she can't give me more than what she has to give, so I can't get super angry about it.  Instead, I will just stop doing nice things for her.  And just give her what she needs.  

I don't like that, though.  I don't like changing the way I am as a person just to protect myself from her.  What if that changes me?  What if I forget who I really am and instead become this grumpy person who doesn't do nice things for others?  I feel that if I am this way with her for too long, that it may end up affecting me.  But I don't honestly think that will happen.  I just feel weird doing it at all. 

It's not that I am trying to punish her.  Rather, I am a) not giving into her expensive whims (and she has a LOT) for no reason anymore and b) protecting myself from being punished BY her.   What other kind of mother punishes her daughter for trying to make her happy?  Only NPD ones.  

I refuse to feel guilty for not trying anymore.  I'm going to take care of her basic needs, and no extra stuff.  I mean, I run myself ragged trying to take care of five adult humans.  I have two sons who are awesome, but have ASD, and need more of my help than other people's kids do.  And that's my job.  They are my kids.   But my mother, or as I call her in my memoir "The Warden", is not my child and she does not do anything to deserve me going out of my way to please her (and it never pleases her when I do).  So, I'm done.  

Which kind of feels good, in a way.  To know I don't have to do as I've always done since childhood and do everything I can to please The Warden.  Because there is no pleasing her.  So I quit.  

See you on tomorrow's post.

Oh, today's mantra is: "You can't please an old dog who refuses to learn new tricks, so don't even try."  

I can't believe it's been 19 days already!  Only 11 days left.  Though, since I am finding it very helpful, I think I will keep this going for longer, but in my regular posts, rather than in a series.  

Anyways, today was pretty uneventful.  Other than my mother trying to convince me to give her the meds she doesn't need, all because she wants me to think I am wrong.  But I finally got her to understand, after explaining it 20x to her.  Not sure if it will stick, but we'll see.  

Today I went with my kids to go pick up cat medicine from the vet.  Then we went to go pick up a new vanity for the bathroom (which still isn't fixed...yet).  But then we decided to keep our OG vanity and not invest any money into this house that we don't need to.  Because our future plans do not include living here (we have an escape plan, and part one is in effect as we speak).  

When we first moved in, all my mother kept saying was how she was going to spend money (who's money, I have no clue) to replace the picture window, to put a deck out back, to do this and that, and blah blah blah, and I'm all like "Okay moneybags, where the hell do you suppose all this magic money is going to manifest from?"  She never had an answer for that.  Back then, her dementia was there, but much better than it is now.  But I am glad she's off that track, because I am not putting a penny into this house that I don't have to.  Yes, I'll replace our missing bathroom floors.  That's a given.  But I'm not doing anything that's not needed. 

And in other news, I am terrified of moving forward.  I wrote a blog post about our future plans, but I haven't posted it yet.  But I will soon.  Anyways, our future plans (meaning our getaway from here) consists of getting 2 camper/RVs, a piece of land, and a new car.  It all costs money, and right now we finally have part of that money to start our plans.  But, I am terrified to make the wrong choice moving forward.  I could put a down payment on a new car, or a down payment on a piece of land or buy one camper/RV outright.  But which one should I do?  I know that the camper is the wise idea, as we can have it here, on our land, until we find a piece of land to buy.  And I know that we need our car fixed, which is really going to come first before anything.  But I am just terrified of actually moving forward.  We did find a piece of land that's tillable, wooded, and has a creek running through it, everything that we want (and tons of wildlife for hunting), but it's like $80,000.  UGH.  That as much as our first house!  I am so not prepared for that kind of commitment yet.  Esp, not at that price (it is only 5 acres).  But I know there will be more land.  And we'll be in a better place financially later on.  But I am still terrified of both waiting to get moving, and of actually doing it.  It's like no matter, unless I am sitting still, I will be terrified.  But if I sit still for too long, life will play out around me and force me to do something.  

I think that's what my issue is: I can't make a choice.  I can't let change be my idea.  The last time I did?  we became homeless.  So, I have no idea how to break free from that fear.  I mean, I eventually won't have a choice.  This is how I felt when I was leaving my ex-husband.  I didn't want it to be my choice.  I wanted him to fuck up so badly that I had to leave.  I didn't want to have to say "Listen here, ex, I'm leaving you.  I don't love you and I never have."  I mean, I did end up saying that to him.  But I didn't want to.  And it was really fuuuuuuucking hard to do it.  It was like throwing up.  I have emetophobia, and the amount of fear before throwing up that courses through my body is insane.  It was the same when I went no contact with my mother the last time (the first time, she went no contact with me, I just held to it).  I wanted her to do something so bad that the choice was made for me.  I guess I have issues making choices.  But that horrible blocking fear, and then the eventual purge, and then I feel like a million bucks after (only when I am sick, I would never puke on purpose).  But whenever I have to cut someone from my life, I don't feel like a million bucks afterwards.  I have massive guilt and shame and I always second-guess my choices.  Well, no, that's not true, I never second-guessed my choice to leave my ex.  Not once.  But I did with my mother going no contact.  It took a very long time for the nightmares to stop (like a year).  

So, I don't really think my fear is of actually moving forward in life (though it is, a little).  I think it's of putting my mother in a home.  I think it's the idea that I have the make the choice, if I want to get out of here anytime soon.  Otherwise, I'll be waiting for her to have a stroke (she has vascular dementia), or for her to wander off somewhere, hit someone in the house (or one of our pets), or do something really vile.  Though that last one will probably be the first to happen.  Because she's full of vile behavior.  And the thing is, if we buy the RVs, the land, and a new car, we don't have to leave right away.  We can wait for those things to happen if we wanted to.  We could make the decision and feel good about it, rather than just running off in the night and throwing ma in a home (just kidding--we'd most likely do it in the daytime.

Okay, so I need to what I always do when I get overwhelmed and start having anxiety about choices in life: make a freaking list.  I need to make a list of all the things we need to get done in order to move.  AND make a list of all the things we need to get done after we move to make things the most comfortable for us.  Like working out internet and sewage and all that fun stuff.  And working out building stuff to do stuff in (we all have hobbies, and we all need space to do them, which means more than just an RV).  

Okay, so on to making a list.  I'll start there.  And I'll watch some homesteading videos to get me into the mood to make said lists.  

My mantra for today is "One thing at a time."  If I could only just make up my mind what that one thing should be.  Oh yes, get car fixed.  That's first.  I'll just worry about everything else after that's done.  

Today mother was a chatty Cathy, and was constantly asking me to do things for her.  I didn't mind, they were little things, but as the day wore on, I got wore out, and eventually it turned my mood completely sour.  Though maybe I also had some low blood sugar, because the minute I ate dinner with my kids (after she went to bed), I felt so much better.  

The little things were like "can you install this game for me?"  "why is my computer doing this?" "can you call the doctor?" (which I had already done, and she was being bitchy about it to me, as though I hadn't done it...even though I already told her I did--which goes to show her baseline with me: if I don't do things on her timetable, I am useless, and deserve getting treated like crap--granted, I think things not getting done on her timeline give her anxiety, so I really shouldn't take offense because I don't think it honestly has anything to do with me), "here, let me ask you a thousand more questions, even though I'm cutting into your time with your husband right before he goes to work".  But again, I didn't really mind, because that's my job: I am her caretaker, if she needs something done, or someone to chat at because she's bored, that's what I am here for. 

Also, I recently created a YouTube channel for music, and I was working on that after Mr. Brooks left for work, and that helped to sour my mood more, since the program was being slow AF, and it took me hours to encode a two-minute video (later, it worked fine, and it took me only minutes).  So my bad mood, like one of those flat, empty, "nothing will ever feel good again" feelings, like a very bad depression feeling.  Though there was no real external reason for it, and it only lasted hours until I ate.  So I am really sure it was caused by low blood sugar.  

But I went out to make dinner and immediately, she came out to read while I cook.  I prefer to cook alone.  She knows this.  And I was sort of enjoying myself before she came out.  See, I normally love to dance and listen to loud music while I cook.  In my old houses, my kitchens were walled off, and were not eat-in, so I had the ability to be completely alone while I cooked.  But this house?  It's all open and stupid.  And I don't get to do shit.  So my resentment of the fact that I am not allowed to do anything in this house without my mother finding me and being noisy as fuck (on purpose), or, back when we first moved in, she saw me as an extension of herself and would constantly be up my ass about doing shit for her (like useless shit, busywork).  So this is all what led me to be in my room with the door shut.  She refused to accept my shut door and would walk right in, so that led me to get a lock on my door.  So I had to literally barricade myself in my room in order to get any sort of privacy, or ability to do what I like without someone trying to suck up every moment of my time.  And I can't even have my door open, because if I do, she takes that as "Shay's room and attention are fair game".  And tonight, she did it again by sucking up my time to myself in my own house by coming in with a book and sitting at the table to read.  

I am too much chickenshit to ask her to leave.  

Once, my therapist told me "You can always ask her to leave while you are enjoying the backyard, to wait to come outside until you go in", as she would come out while I'd be relaxing in the yard to chatter on about nothing, interrupting my beautiful nature silence.  I told him "Um, I told you she has NPD, right?  She will have a freaking meltdown."  He said "So what?"  Um, so what?  Was he kidding me?  We ACoNs have lived a life going out of our ways to not incur the wraths of our narcissistic parents.  For some of us, it has become our biggest fear.  And I cannot answer you today why this still freaks me out.  Well, I do know partly why: I tend to absorb her moods.  If she's pissed off at me, I can't just let it go, I get pissed off, too.  And then my mind spins with imaginary conversations and the like and I worry and worry and worry about it.  Which is soooooo dumb.   But he asked me the wrong question, because it's me, I am the one who stupidly cares.  His question should have been "Why care?"  Now that's something to actually explore.  

Why do I care so much?  Why do I absorb her moods?  Why is that such an issue for me?  It's habit and engrained into my psyche, because that's how I've lived since chilldhood.  If my parents got angry, I got angry.  If they were being nice, I would immediately absorb the idea that "everything is fine now, we can switch to happy mode".  If my mother was over the top excited about creating something with me (or about anything), I would catch her mood like a fever and I became excited, too.  Though that never lasted and she never meant it.  The next day she'd be all flat and irritated about it, and then I would, too (though with her for doing that to me).  No matter what her mood was, I'd match it, penny for penny.  Then you mix that with my hypervigilance, and just the smallest tweak in her mood could be sensed, and I would immediately change course to match hers.  

What in the holy fuck is wrong with me?  Why is our tether still so freaking strong?  I mean, I get it back then, it was survival.  But now?  I don't need to survive anymore.  Yet, I am still stuck in that mode.  I fear her reaction to me asking her to leave the room while I cook, because I know it will sour my mood--though having her there also sours my mood, so why do I choose the one to make me suffer?  Because that's what I've done my entire life.  I make me suffer so she doesn't have to.  Because a suffering mother means so much more than just her suffering.  It means that everyone suffers.  Her reactions were always volatile and unpredictable and usually included punishment of some sort.  Threats.  But now?  She just stomps off and pouts in her room.  She has not much to threaten me with anymore.  Yet, I still fear her reactions.  

I know I've talked about this before on here, but I still don't get how to stop me from feeling this way.  

I do think that if I don't confront her while she's doing something I don't want her to do, but rather before or after it happens, it helps.  Except with the smoking.  That I will confront while it's happening.  But as for her being in the kitchen while I am cooking, I am going to say in front of everyone, something like "Hey, everyone, while I am cooking, I prefer everyone to keep the fuck out the kitchen, because it's the only time of the day I can do something alone outside of my room."  Because if I say it's due to noise or being in my way, my mother will argue that she will stay seated and be quiet.  I will bring up the fact that our old house was great, because my kitchen wasn't eat-in, so there wasn't enough room to hang out while I cooked.  So I got to cook alone for over ten years.  And now, I really hate people hanging out in this one while I cook.  So the kitchen will be off-limits from the time I start cooking until people eat.  Which is at most around an hour.  Before that and after that, feel free to use the kitchen all you like for whatever you like.  

The funny part in all of this, is if the kids to a project at the kitchen table (like when recently the kids converted our $20 dollar smoker we got off of Facebook Marketplace into a gas one for cheap), she has a fucking fit, as though the table is her sacred space, even though she spends all freaking summer taking up the entire backyard for herself, yet the table is still hers.  Though it's not hers, it's my table, the one a neighbor gave us after we became homeless and my mother refused to do a damn thing and was just going to let us rot and starve (can you tell I am still angry about that one?).  And when we moved in here, she was soooo adamant about not letting us use a single item of our own (she wanted 100% control), she forced us to use her TWO-PERSON dining table for FIVE PEOPLE, and required we all eat dinner together every single night.  So went I took back my title of "woman of the house", I removed her table and put in my SIX PERSON table instead.  Yet, she still claims ownership over it.  The kids aren't allowed to use it, even though this is their house, too.  Though when I say that, I mean my oldest son.  If it was my youngest, she'd not say shit.  Actually, she'd get interested in what he's doing.  But if it's my oldest, she gets gripey and mean.  Just like when he cooks dinner.  But somehow, I can't claim ownership over a piece of my time and space when I need to.  I am going to have to.  And if I don't address her directly, she won't get as angry.  Though she will not obey it, either way.  So this means I will have to fight her on this, probably until we move out.  Which is another reason I am not looking forward to saying anything at all.  

I really hated my old therapist, as he was somewhat narcissistic himself.  But he was right on at least one thing: this is my life.  And I only get one.  So why spend it only trying to please the crazy lady?  

So, my mantra for today is "I should not be afraid to ask for what I need."  Even if it has to be in a roundabout way that gives me less anxiety.  No matter how I choose to do it, it just needs to get done, whether it's directly or indirectly.  Though I do realize that in the indirect approach will most likely lead to a direct approach, as she will act like the rules don't apply to her.  But oh well, the hard part will be done already, so defending what I already asked to do is so much easier than asking in the first place.  

Wish me luck.  

So Mr. Brooks birthday went off without her trying to sabotage anything.  Thank goodness.  She's been doing a lot better with that the past year.  But the real answer will come in February, at my oldest son's birthday, as he's her primary scapegoat for her negative feelings about herself.  

So Saturday went by, and Sunday Mr. Brooks and I spent the entire day in bed binge watching both a two-part documentary about Brittany Murphy and then Kevin Hart in "True Story" on Netfix.  Both were amazing.  I didn't see Ma much on Sunday, but on Saturday, we celebrated my husband's birthday and my mother's dementia is so bad, that she didn't buy him a gift.  But it's no big deal as we all understood.  She did get angry at me for not buying him a tray of brownies for him to eat all by himself from her.  I told her that he was already having cake and ice cream, the last thing he would want is more sweets.  But she was adamant, so I ended up not making him a cake, and instead made him a 8x8 homemade cosmic brownie (a brownie with chocolate frosting and sprinkles--it was amazing!) which I told him was from her.  But she was still annoyed with me, because she wanted one BOUGHT not MADE.  But that's only because she wanted to be the one was in charge of his birthday sweets, as well as force people to eat more sweets than they should (especially her, she has diabetes!).  So my mantra for Saturday was "Sometimes you just have to let go".  Which is different from my "Let it go" mantra from the other day.  This one means I should have just bought the brownies and let my mother have what she wanted.  I regret not doing it, but in all honesty, it wasn't fully my choice.  I was super horrible feeling on Friday, and could not make it to the store to buy it.  But I should have earlier in the week.  And I now I know that I don't always have to be right about stuff.  Sometimes for the sake of someone else's feelings, I should just do what they ask.  Sound dumb when we're talking about a person who's done terrible things to my family, but I am not her.  I do not wish to punish others for fun.  

But today, she was in a ripe mood, and yelled me several times.  I even made her fish, something she's been asking me to make her for awhile (the rest of us don't eat fish that much), and she still got pissy with me today, more than once.  But, I will say, she was pissy due to her dementia, not some external issue.  She got confused today over her medication and wanted me to give it to her but she didn't need it, so I said we need to take it every other day, instead of everyday.  And her medicine is not something prescription, it's freaking Metamucil.  

So my mother has had loose bowels for my entire life.  Certain foods make her get it worse, but mostly, it's just a daily thing.  And lately, it's been really bad, so much so that she's been soiling herself.  Turns out, she was drinking Ensure, and she's sensitive to lactose.  She tried arguing with me about it, saying that the chocolate has more "milk in it" than the pecan, only because she didn't want to stop drinking the pecan.  I said "Ma, they are the same formula.  You are lactose intolerant, you have to stop drinking both."  She didn't like that, but she did, and it got better.  But not enough.  So she went to see a gastro doctor who put her on Metamucil, and she started taking it and didn't have a bowel movement for a freaking week.  

So, I made her stop it taking every day, which she was okay with.  Then, she had a bowel movement today, and it was normal, she said she was cured and was going back to taking it every single day.

Sigh. 

I said "No, we are going to stick with every other day, and see how long it takes you to go again.  And if it's days, we'll switch to every couple days."  And she said "NO!!  I will take every single day because my doctor said I had to!!"  Now, that, ladies and gents, is dementia rage.  She has no ability to use common sense anymore (though one could argue she's always had issues with that--I am not being mean here, just being honest).  She has no ability to use rational thoughts, either.  And, she NEVER listens to her doctors, EVER.  If a doctor tells her what to do?  She always do the exact opposite.  And this time, she wanted to use the doctor's words against me, which is also what she always does, too.  But usually it's me defending the doctor and she's arguing with me.  

In this scenario, I am the parents she rebels against.  I have always carried this title with her.  I never actually realized just how much parentification she has put me through in life until right now.  

She also got super angry with me later in the night because her cat wanted out of her room and I hadn't put away the food from dinner yet, as I was working on my YouTube channel.  And she got PISSED and had a meltdown about me not wanting him out.  She even tried to throw my food in the garbage!  So I went into the kitchen, grabbed him, and put him in her room.  And then put away all the food.  But she's really stupid about her cats, and acts like they deserve more rights than humans do.  She used to even feed her cats most of her dinners because they begged for it and she would end up getting hardly any food, herself.  I had to put a stop to that, and I think she's still angry about it.  This cat in particular is INSATIABLE for people food, which he will promptly throw up if he eats it.  So I don't let him out of her room while I am cooking or when I have food out.  It's super simple.  But he drives her crazy, scratching to get out, so she gets angry with me for it.  It's like, his needs are put above everyone else's.  It's crazy.  You should see how he she acts with her other cat.  That cat isn't allowed out of her sight.  It's creepy as fuck.  

Oh, and by the way, at my hubby's birthday "party" on Saturday, we saved the biggest gift for last.  And, as it turned out, it was an early Christmas gift for her.  It was a new computer because her computer was around eleven years old or more, and it stopped running her games.  And my mother without a computer is a very grumpy mother who does nothing but complain she has no games to play.  So, I bought one for her (a very good one, I might add) and the kids set it up for her.  She first refused to open it, and I told her if she didn't, someone else would.  So she did and then went on and on and on about how she could have waited until Christmas.  The fuck she could.  If I had, she would have made my life miserable, on purpose, because my only job in life is to fix her bullshit for her.  When I can't, I am treated like trash.  

But you know what she did?  She gave my husband a huge hug and tried to kiss the inside of his neck (and he pulled away before she could, because it was completely inappropriate) thanking him profusely for the computer.  Yet, I was the one who picked it out and ordered it.  He had nothing to do with it whatsoever.  But that's ma, for ya.  She loves her some Mr. Brooks.  But then again, I don't want her hugging me or trying to kiss me in any way.  So, I guess I lucked out on that one.

Oh, and now my husband is traumatized about my mother trying to kiss him in a very intimate way, something he blames on her dementia, though I do think it's based on real feelings she has for him.  Like I said before, she saw herself as "woman of the house" and he was "man of the house".  And that left me somewhere in limbo.  When she went into rehab earlier this year, I did a hostile takeover of that phrase and made her "grandma of the house" instead, and I became "woman of the house".  Something she's still sore about to this day.  Which is maybe why she tried to kiss my husband, thanking him for a computer I bought for her.  

Well, that was my weekend.  Hooray.  So much fun.  Yay.  Sigh. 

Good news on our future plans though: we'll soon have the money to buy an RV/camper so we can get the fuck outta here, hopefully in 2022 (UPDATE: we're not buying an RV right away).  Though, we do have to wait until mother needs to go into a home.  I can't just say "Well, we're leaving!"  Or maybe I can?  We'll see.  We still need another RV, and a plot of land.  And we'll have to work on the RV's also.  I use the term RV, but I don't mean something drivable.  My plan is to get all that, and the moment mother has another huge fuckup (like when she went behind my back telling her BFF, Christmas, that I was holding her hostage in the house) or if she needs surgery again and needs to go stay in rehab again, or her dementia gets worse and she needs to be cared for more than I can provide.  I don't feel like I can just walk away for no apparent reason and say "See ya!" and drop her ass off in a home.  But if she were do something crazy, like hit someone (she's done that before) or shit herself to the point of me having to clean her up, then I am all about that nursing home with no trouble.  Because I am not her nurse, nor will I be her verbal or physical punching bag.  Nor will anyone else in this house.  She is cruel at times to my oldest son, but the moment she really crosses the line with him (or any of us) will be her one-way ticket to homesville.  And we'll be outta here.  Though, we do need land first.  Which is something I need to get on looking for.  Oh, yes, and we need a new car.  I almost forgot about that.  But we'll get there.  

Okay, that's it.  Until tomorrow.  

OH YEAH, my mantras for the other days: 

Monday, the angry day.  "Just because someone is yelling at you, doesn't mean you should back down.  But it also doesn't mean you should let it bother you enough to get super angry, either.  Instead, just let someone else have their emotions without taking them in as yours."  

Sunday, the lazy day: "Sometimes you gotta just take a break."  

Saturday, the day she tried to kiss my husband: "Beware of the old woman who gives out fake hugs, they may just be a ruse to make out with your husband".  This isn't much of mantra, as it is a reminder. I already wrote my mantra for this day above.