I avoid my mother like the pandemic.  I mean, I check on her, I watch her when she's outside to make sure she's  not doing anything crazy or falling.  But I do hide out in my room most of the day, with my door locked.  I've also been to the point lately that I just don't anything to do with her.  I've been to this point many times before.  I never understood this feeling.  I mean, I get it.  She's mean and annoying (today she was rude to me over leaving a door open and it was very cold and she refused to shut it, even though I asked her several times to shut it, and then got angry with me because I asked so many times--she was blocking the door, so I couldn't go around her and shut it myself) and acts like a toddler.  But I never understood this all encompassing feeling of sick apathy (the best way I can describe it) that I get periodically with her.  Everything she says pisses me off.  Everything she does makes me want to crawl out of my skin.  The sound of her being anywhere near me sends me into a panic and I will literally run to get into a place in the house just so I don't have to have her address me (because when she does, it's always to a) bitch, b) ask for something she knows she can't have or do, or c) get into my business).  So I will avoid her any cost.  I used to get this way when we lived above her in the apartments that we lived in right before we moved here.  I also used to get this way when she lived a block away from me (which is why I went no contact with her to begin with).  And I know when I get this way, it's a sign I need a break from her.  Even so, I still never realized what exactly it was I was feeling.  It's not like she did anything hugely wrong that sets it off.  It's the day in and day out drudgery of lies that spill from her mouth like an erupting volcano.  It's the screaming (at nothing in particular, she just LOVES being loud--yet today my son and I were singing "Jack and Diane" with the radio while cooking dinner and she got pissed).  It's the baby voice she does.  It's the hillbilly voice she does.  It's the strange noises she makes when nobody is paying her attention (like shaking her head back and forth like a dog while her lips slap around making noise).  It's everything.  But mostly, it's the blatant lies.  

The other day she said "I told God that back when you and your ex were having all your problems, that if he brought you home, I'd quit smoking."  Mr. Brooks and I started laughing.  She said "What?"  I said "Last month, you told me that you quit smoking back then because you were going on the cruise with Beth (our old next door neighbor) and you weren't allowed to smoke.  And anyways, I had been living with you for almost three years by then, remember?  I just hadn't officially moved out.  AND, my ex and I were not 'having issues', not anymore than usual.  I just decided to leave him permanently because our entire marriage was bad.  You didn't quit smoking for me.  You'd never have done anything like that for me and never will."  All she replied with was a wistful look and said "Oh yeah, I forgot about the cruise.  Yeah, I was allowed to smoke on there, but I didn't want to."  I've heard that story more than once, about her quitting smoking for me.  But now I know the truth.  It never had anything to do with me.  She just told herself that and made that the new truth.  But her dementia has been making her slip with more truths.  But also not quite. 

Most of her stories are still laced with lies.  The other day she said  "I quit working because back in the day, I came home and found our table littered with beer cans, and your father was on the phone talking to his sister, and you weren't changed.  After that day, I never worked again."  Now, I always wondered what made her quit working.  And this could have happened in some way, shape, or form.  I know my father and his sister liked to get drunk on the phone together and cry.  It used to piss my mother off so badly she'd always walk into the room and hang up on my aunt (or so she says...she said she did that this time, too).  Now, as an adult, I wonder what they were mourning together?  I wonder what happened that was so bad in their childhood that they hardly ever saw each other and only spoke on the phone with each other every few years.  But I do know that I was not in diapers, as my mother stated here.  Saying I was running around with a dirty diaper.  I know for a fact that I was three or four when she quit.  I remember she worked at this place that served the best broasted chicken and she'd always bring some home and give me some.  And I have zero memories before age three.  And I KNOW I do not remember being in diapers.  Now, you could say "This is her dementia talking, she's mixing stuff up."  True.  That very well could be.  But what else is true that she ALWAYS mixes things up, always has, and tells stories that are full of non-truths (if we don't want to call them flat out lies).  

But some things are just lies.  Like her pretending we are one big happy family.  Or that she loves me.  Or that she cares one damn bit about anything other than herself.  Because if she didn't have dementia, or need my help?  Or if I wasn't in charge of her?  I'd be kicked to curb along with the garbage in a moment's notice, as soon as something or someone better came along.  Her not pressing me to have my cousins visit, or to tell me what they say, is not her respecting my boundaries.  Even though I tell her all the time that I do not want to hear about what is going on in their lives (they are the reason all hell broke loose and why I started this blog to begin with), she still would tell me.  But recently, she's quit.  Not because she respects me, but because she's scared of being put in a home.  The ONLY reason she's good to me at all (when she's good), is out of fear.  As a child, I feared my parents.  I feared they'd hurt me.  I feared they didn't love me.  I feared they hated me.  I feared their reactions, responses, everything.  But my mother doesn't fear me (which there is no reason to).  She fears the power I have over her.  

Recently, she kept bringing up making BIG changes to the house.  New picture window.  New driveway.  Tearing out the half-dead pine tree.  Putting in a deck or patio out back.  Shit like that.  Shit that is not only expensive, but also stupid.  Why?  Because we are not planning on staying here.  Once she's in a home, we're going to buy our own land.  And I told her this.  MISTAKE.  I know better than to tell her about our plans.  But yet I also could not find a reason why to say no to her demands for fixing up the house.  She kept saying "Well, what if I am alive another ten years?"  I said "Well, most likely you won't be sane (meaning her dementia), and you'll probably be in diapers.  Either way, you won't be living here."  She got angry and said "You mean you're not taking care of me until the end?  But you promised!"  I replied "I said no such thing.   I never told you I was taking care of you.  Not once."  So my power lies in this with her.  My power lies in the fact that I am not her nurse.  And I refuse to be one.  And she knows it.  So she stopped doing some of the things I've been on her about (she usually never quits, even if I ask her a thousand times to quit something) and this is why.  Because I have the power to put her in a home.  

I don't want this power.  I wish I had a sibling who wanted to take care of her.  I would be more than happy to let them.  But I am an only child.  So I'm stuck with the job (well, not really, but more so I chose to do it because I know she's a stubborn old bat and would not listen to one thing a doctor or nurse would tell her to do--she's defiant as FUCK, so she can't live alone).  I mean, one would think that having your mother have all the power she could over you for your entire life, that you'd be happy to have that power over her one day.  But I just don't.  She's not my child.  And I didn't ask for this.  She's the reason I am here.  So even by giving me the power over her, she still has power over me, because I'm stuck here doing this for her.  

Which is what I'm getting at.  Have you ever gotten divorced or left a long-term relationship?  There's a point when everything that person does or says makes you want to rip their faces off.  It makes you want to avoid them at all costs and makes you feel angry, yet numb inside.  It's like you're on the verge of running away.  It's how you feel right before you end things with someone.  But I can't end things with her.  So it's a perpetual cycle of feeling numb and angry and then trying to find your way out of feeling that way, just to eventually go back to it again.  Imagine being in a relationship with someone you didn't like but you aren't allowed to leave.   It's also how I felt with my ex every time he took the kids for the weekend after we divorced (the kids HATED him and hated going with him).  But eventually, he gave up his rights and we were rid of him (five entire years of silence from him! what a relief it was back then).  So I know this too shall pass.  That eventually, she'll be in a home.  

And I know I am torturing myself by letting myself get caught up in her lies.  By letting them bother me.  But how do you let it go when you see them every single day?  It would be different if I didn't live with her.  I could blame it on the dementia or not even care anymore.  But living here with her is just so toxic to me, and I don't get how to just move past it.  I though I could.  More than once.  But it never sticks.  Sometimes even in the same day I feel like shit again.  I got better while she was in the home in February.  Not at first, and definitely not during the last two days.  But for a few weeks, I was finally happy again.  I could let go of all the stress and just enjoy it.  I long for that feeling again.  Sigh.  

I'm also scared of moving on.  I'm scared of what the future will bring.  We've lived in poverty for so long and we always were depending financially on her.  Now we don't, but I know from past experience that can be taken away very quickly.  And we aren't living a life that would allow for poverty without her paying for her part of the bills.  So we need to build a new life that won't require as much money as it does here to live.  And we're working on it.  But it's scary.  It's one thing to dream about something, it's quite another to say "Oh, let's actually start working towards it".  Which I don't get why it's so scary, we've started over a thousand times and moved a thousand times, so why is this any different?  It just feels like it is for some reason.  

Anyways, I need to get out of my...what would be the word for it?  There really should be a word for this.  That "I'm so sick of you I am emotionally distancing myself from you" feeling.  Oh, I think it's similar to "emotional blunting".  But rather than feeling it all the time, I only feel it with her.  Can we call this "relationship blunting"?  Because that's what it feels like.  It's numb, yet with an underlying anger and sadness.  It's like being covered in something goopy and gross and you just want to get it off.  You need to "shed" this person from your mind, body, and soul and get their gross goop off you.  And when you can't, you go numb.  

I need some fucking friends.  I hate having friends because I'm annoying and get annoyed with others easily.  But it's better than feeling this way.  Having friends would give me something to do besides worry about what's going on in my home.  Okay, off to go find some friends or something.  Actually, I need to entertain my dog, because he is staring at me right now really intently and making some noises that I can't quite make out what he's asking me to do for him.  He's been staring at me for like ten entire minutes.  So I must go figure it out. 

Anyways, I wrote too much, once again LOL  So I'm going to go do something else now. 

So I set ma up with a psych through the service I use, which is located in our state, but not our town, so we can only talk through the phone.  I use their therapy services and ma will too, as long as it's not my therapist.  Her meds aren't working anymore, and she's super depressed, so I had a bright idea to use the same place I use, because I have to keep track of a hundred different docs for her and this is just easier.  I thought to myself "Wow, look at you go, you problem solver!  What a great idea!"  But of course, she complains.  She complained about another psych I was going to call, which was my son's old psych.  She's amazing, but she's downtown, so my  mother had an issue with that.  So I thought to call my place.  Mother has no idea I use this service, or that I have a therapist, because the only person that matters is her and her issues, and I do not share our personal lives with her.  

Anyways, she has dementia, as I've said before, and I need to be with her so she can understand what people are saying to her and so I can answer questions for her that she can't remember.  But then they asked her about any sexual abuse in her (or any kind of abuse0 and she asked me to leave the room.  I knew exactly what she was going to talk about, her rape at fifteen that she finally admitted to a couple years ago, when her old therapist got it out of her.  During that time she made a HUGE deal out of it, and wouldn't stop talking about it, which made me so damn uncomfortable back then.  So she came out of her phone appointment from her room and I was outside and she said "Oh, I didn't mean you had to leave the room for the entire appointment!  Just that part.  I wasn't even going to tell her about it, but I felt I had to and.." and in that moment I just wanted to plug my ears and scream.  I didn't two shits about why she told the psych about her rape or that she had to talk about it again or anything about it all.  I DO NOT FUCKING CARE.  

I know that sounds awful, but if she brings it up again, I am going to be straight with her.  My therapist said I need to do more of that, because she no longer has control over my life in any way, other than the control I give her, so there is nothing to fear as a "punishment" for standing up to her or speaking my truth.  And he's right.  So if she brings up her rape again, I will be forward and say "I don't care to hear about this mother."  And if she presses me, I will say "Well, I was also raped when I was around the same age and you told everyone I was a whore.  And when I told you about it, you ignored me.  So I don't give two shits about what happened to you when you were a kid, okay?  I'm not your mother, I'm not your friend, I'm your caretaker.  I am not here to help you through talking about this."  Granted, I won't say that part about not being her friend, even though I'm not.  I'm not here to be mean to her.  I'm not her.  Once back in the day, I complained my ex refused to take my kids for the weekend and she said flat out to me "I don't feels sorry for you one bit.  Nobody else gets a break as a parent, so you shouldn't either!"  No reason, she wasn't even mad at me.  That's just how she talked to me.  But let someone talk to HER that way and all hell would break loose.  

Anyways, no.  Just no.  I wanted to scream when she started saying this shit.  But I did what I do best, and I redirected her.  She has dementia, so it's easy for me to change the subject and she'll forget what she's talking about.  Mean?  Yes.  But necessary sometimes.  

I've said it before, but I'm not her fucking friend.  I'm not here to be pals with her.  I'm not her buddy.  I'm here to make sure she's safe.  That's it.  

But I'm not sure how much longer I can even do that, as she's having issues swallowing and barfs at dinner after choking on her food.  And I have SEVERE emetophobia.  Always have.  And if she's going to continue to barf while eating, she's going to need care I cannot give her anymore.  But we'll see if it stops or progresses.  

Anyways, I was raped at fourteen out of my virginity.  She was raped at fifteen (and even though I am not the type of person to slut shame or ignore the cries of a person who's been raped, I do wonder if what happened to her was actual rape, or was it something she's calling rape-I'm only saying this because I know my mother exaggerates...though no matter what it is, it's something bad, so it doesn't really matter).  And because it happened to her, it's important.  But when I told her about it happening to me, she flat out pretended I didn't say anything.  And then later, she told all OUR friends, that I was a whore and probably wasn't raped, even though they didn't even know I was raped, so she told them!  And then told them I was a liar.  

But when it happens to her, it's important and real.  So fuck her.  And fuck that stupid conversation she was trying to have with me.  I hope she never brings it up again, but I also kind of hope she does...just so I can tell her the truth.  

and I already got my gift from my mother.  Apparently, the kitchen appliance I re-bought because ours broke, is my birthday gift, according to her.  

Every year, my mother gives me a gift, whether it's for my birthday or for Christmas, that's not really a gift for me.  It's either a gift for the house, or a gift for me to use for the house.  Like appliances that cook food (like the blender she bought me for xmas one year--it was a "control" gift, given to me as a punishment to the rest of my family--long story), or an outdoor clothesline, as though I want to truck my ass up from the basement carrying a heavy basket of wet laundry, just to put everything out on a line.  When she gave me that one, she then dictated where I was to put it in the yard.  She bought it because she used to have one at our old house, so in reality, the gift was for her to live vicariously through me for something she doesn't have anymore. The same year (last year, in 2020) she also had my husband buy me a hanging flower basket for Mother's Day, and then proceeded to take it and put it where she wanted and eventually, she killed it, because I refused to let her take control of it.

None of the gifts she gives me is for me.  She buys other people things they love, but buys me either gifts she wants for herself (like my plant) or gifts I can use to make things for other people.  

I am going to be 44 this year.  So it's not like I am a little kid expecting my mommy to fulfill my wishes or anything like that.  I am old enough to know that my mother is disappointing in every way and will never live up to the "normal" expectations of a real mom.  She sees me as nothing more than an extension of herself.  Right before she left to go into rehab after surgery, she "bought me" an air fryer.  I said "What on earth did you buy this for?"  "You wanted one!" she replied.   I then told her never in my entire life did I ever want an air fryer.  She argued with me, saying that I did say I wanted one and had been wanting one for a long time.  Granted, she has dementia, but I honestly think she mixed me up with herself.  See, she sees me as an extension of herself so much that she could not remember that she was the one who wanted an air fryer and still to this day thinks I asked for one.  And of course, it was me trucking it back to the store to return it for her.  I don't know how many times before she left she'd buy things off Amazon and I'd have to return it to the store that takes Amazon returns (when I say "I", I mean me and my husband).  The older she gets, the worse her dementia gets, and the more she stops seeing me as a real person.  I am here to be at her beck and call, so why would you buy a servant or a maid or a nurse a birthday present that has special meaning for them?  No way!  Just buy them stuff instead that helps take care of you better (or it's to make more work for them).  

I know I shouldn't care.  But I bought my pressure cooker myself two days ago and it came today and I was so excited because it's really cool and then my mother saw it and said "I hope that's your birthday present from me!"  Why would it be?   But of course, she's going to claim it as her gift, even though I paid for it and it had nothing to do with her at all.  And my birthday is months away.  She just wanted to ruin it for me.  But I won't let her.

So today, I bought her her birthday gift.  I realized I've spent my entire life scouring everywhere trying to find her a perfect birthday gift, as she's super picky.  So her physical therapist told her that she needs a "grab bar" that's permanently mounted in the shower (instead of her suction cup ones).  So today, I bought her one.  Happy Birthday ma!  For Christmas you're getting diapers! (jk)  And when it comes in a couple days, I'll install it and say "That's your early birthday present!  Isn't it cool?"  And if she bitches or says in a shitty way "thanks a lot" (her usual response to things she doesn't approve of), I'll just say "Well, you 'gave' me a kitchen appliance I was going to replace anyways because it's for household use that I paid for, so I guess we're even."  Just kidding.  I am not that bold. 

Here's the deal: my mother can't go shopping in person.  She also can't remember how Amazon works anymore.  She kind of knows how to use Walmart online, but she has no idea how to pay for things on any site anymore at all.  I have to do most of that for her.  She could do it all a year ago.  Hell, she could do it all in December.  But since then, she's gone downhill and fast.  I think it was the rehab home that did it.  When you take someone with dementia and put them somewhere they don't recognize, it triggers a downward spiral in their dementia.  That happened with my grandmother when my mother renovated the house after my father died.  She didn't recognize the kitchen anymore and down she went.  They do usually level off at some point, only to go downward again later.  My grandmother died a year after my father did, so she never really did level out.  

So I get it, she can't go out and get me gifts anymore.  I am fine with that.  I don't even expect her to buy anyone anything at all.  If she remembers it's someone's birthday, it's all that matters.  But here's the deal: my mother makes everyone's birthday 100% about her.  For years on end, she decided that we all would go out to eat together for our birthdays, her treat (including her birthday, which is a week before mine).  She knows I hate eating in restaurants.  And think that's 100% why she forced us to start this tradition to begin with.  She wanted to show me that I don't matter (and she wanted to do her favorite thing on your birthday, to show everyone that nobody matters but her).  I mean, this has been going on since I've been a little kid.  But after I had kids of my own and got remarried, she then decided it was something we'd all do for every single birthday.  And if we said "This year, you're coming with us instead" she'd always say no.  Every single fucking time.  You know why?  Because if she pays?  She gets to choose where we eat.  And if she gets to choose, that means she's in control of your birthday.  Once, like four or five years ago, my hubby chose where we went for his birthday dinner (Famous Dave's).  And she was in a horrible mood, screaming and yelling and even yelled at my husband while he was driving because he didn't turn where she wanted him to in the parking lot.  And the next day she said "From now on?  I CHOOSE where we go!!"  I said "Well, no thank you then.  We're done.  Please don't take us out ever again."  And that was the last time we went out to dinner with her.  

Last year, she tried to ruin my youngest son's birthday by getting mad about what he chose to eat.  She pouted and threw a fit about what we got, even though it wasn't her fucking birthday.  But that's it.  Your birthday IS her birthday.  All birthdays are her birthday.  And her birthday is also her birthday.  She tries to dominate and control every thing and everyone at all times.  Which is why I hide from her so much, because she makes every single situation, from what show you're watching or game your playing or conversation you're having or whatever, about her.  She will try to control, dominate, and take over.  If she can't, she'll leave (usually angrily, but not always).  If you're planing plants, she will tell you everything you're doing is either wrong or she just tries to dominate what you're doing by taking over.  If she's not in control, she doesn't want to take part of whatever it is.  And if all the attention is not put on her, she will not participate either.  

Which explains why all my birthday parties as a little kid were all about her and my dad wrecking them with their drunken antics.  Or like my 16th, when they planned NOTHING and I just stayed home and watched TV all night. 

I fucking hate my birthday.  And now?  I hate it even more that she lives with us.  I know she will try to ruin it.  And even if she doesn't, I have such animosity about it, I will just do a good job of being in a bad mood on my own anyways.  And I don't want to be.  That's not fair to me, my hubby, or my kids.  And I was getting better.  For so many years on end I could not enjoy my birthdays.  And then I realized why, and I got better and stopped torturing my family about trying to make my birthdays awesome.  I got better and learned to enjoy them.  But now I live with Satan and I have no choice but to deal with her bullshit, which I fear is going to make me hate my birthday again.

I think this year I'm getting a babysitter for her and I'm taking my family out.  I'm not sure if my oldest son can get off, if not then we'll do something on the weekend instead, but still she will need a babysitter because I don't want her around and she can't stay home alone.  But then I'll have to deal with her when I get home and I'll stress out about it the entire time, so I just don't know.  We'll see what we'll do.  I just know that my mother will have ZERO to do with planning a damn thing.  Unlike last year, when she bullied my family into agreeing for her to get me a clothesline, even though they told her I didn't want it.  It's still in the garage, btw LOL  In all reality, I kind of don't want to do anything at all.  I think I'd be less stressed out.  I'd rather just chill out all weekend at home and work on my garden and watch some movies (like "Big Trouble in Little China" and "The Big Lebowski" and other movies we love).  Oh and eat some cake with cool whip as frosting, because YUM! 

My birthdays have always been filled with stress (like in 2006 when I called the cops on her for hitting me).  So I really need to see this from a side of "destress" rather than the side of "oh it's my birthday, let's do something fun!"  I need relaxing and simple.  Mostly because I live with the person who stresses me out the most.  

And my birthdays shouldn't be about her giving gifts to me anymore. Because my mother uses gifts as a way to control others (ask my kids about the time she was mad at my oldest when he was 16 and gave him a $10 RC car for xmas, and gave his brother, her favorite, over $100 in toys--I returned ALL the gifts and split the money between the kids).  So I will just say she didn't buy me anything at all this year.  And I'm good with it.  I'd rather get nothing than let her control me with some sort of asshole controlling gift for her to take something I bought for kitchen use and let her claim it as her gift to me (I literally didn't use that damn blender for two entire years due to why she bought it for me, so I'll be damned if I'll let her ruin something else for me).  

Anyways, I got a new pressure cooker from Best Buy today (free shipping/delivery!).  It was $50 and it's huge (and nonstick).  And it works great.  But I bought it because the old one broke and I bought it so I can cook for my family.  It's not "mine", it's ours.  Not my mother's, mind you.  But my family's.  And she didn't have squat to do with it.  And it wasn't a birthday gift.  It's just something we own.  Like our washer and dryer.  Or our fridge.  

It's not even my birthday yet, and I'm already stressing about it.  But like I said, I'll just plan to have a chill birthday, and not let her try to take it over or do anything stupid with it. 

Sigh.  

First of all, apologies to this cat.  I am sure this cat is nicer than my mother.  That being said, remember when I told you that she's only apologized twice in 20 years?  And how the the last time she apologized was because she hit me in the face because I told her to stop calling me a pervert child molester?  And then the very next day she was back at it, making fun of me for calling the cops on her and whatnot and went right back to being her repulsive self?  

Well?  The same thing happened this time.  No, she didn't call me a pervert child molester (you can read about that here), but she did use her apology as a way to get things from me.  

She's obsessed with fixing up our house.  Like BIG fixes.  Like things we do not need, like a new picture window or a deck out back (I am already making something for us to use to sit on out back, but I don't ever tell her my plans, because she will either a) take over whatever it is I'm doing or b) tell me it's stupid).  She even went as far to call contractors to put in a new window, even though she has ZERO access to that kind of money.  For some reason, even though I've explained to her a bunch of times that she does not make financial decisions for her money anymore (besides the $200 a month allowance I give her), she still thinks she has say so as to how it's spent.  And I've told her that her money is allotted for anyways, with savings and whatnot.  So I think she's thinking she has a say so as to how our savings is spent LOL  Good god.  

So, as I mentioned, right after she got done crying to me about how she's sorry for being so mean to me all the time, she immediately asked me for $200 worth of plants.  Sigh.  I agreed, but that's her April allowance.  So she's already spent it and I know she's going to want more stuff this month.  It's really irritating that she doesn't understand how this money thing works: she buys the frivolous stuff she wants with her allowance, which are her wants; I buy what she needs with her money, like meds, her cigarettes (gross, not a "need" but but whatever), food, etc.  For some reason she's forgotten that she needs to help pay for groceries.  She was used to us paying for all of them for almost a year.  We lost our grocery money, due to our financial circumstances, so we can't foot that bill anymore.  

Yes, she has dementia.  I know this, but also know, this is how she acted before, too.  

So, then the next day rolls around and she corners us (Mr. Brooks and I) and says "Okay, so let's just to the picture window, it'll only be like $500.  I've already talked to contractors about it."  I said "Again?  I thought I already told you no the last time you said you talked to contractors?"  In fact, I deleted all their emails from her account and removed her from the "home advisor" mailing list.  And then I said "There is no way a window that takes up our entire wall will only be $500."  She then went on some nonsensical tirade about how much it'll cost, as though she KNOWS anything.  This is her MO.  She always pretends she knows exactly what the answers are to things she knows absolutely nothing about.  It's her thing.  

So I just kept saying "That's too expensive.  And we don't need it."  And she got pissed again with me.  I said "Well, I am sorry you're angry.  I said no.  That's the end of it."  And she said all snarly "I'm not mad."  I said "Well, good then." And we left.  

Then yesterday I specifically told her not to walk where my son dropped the ham juice all over the floor (like ALL the juice from our ham) because she WILL fall.  She's a fall risk and anyone on a wet floor could fall.  Unlike anyone else, my mother cannot catch herself and gets seriously hurt when she falls.  So she did it anyways.  And then threw some paper towels on the floor and started scooting around with her feet on them, like she was dancing.  I got pissed and repeated what I said the other day "Why am I even here if you can't listen to me?  If I can't stop you from trying to hurt yourself, then why am I even here?"  She got cocky with me, but I would not back down.  She eventually got upset and was quiet for awhile afterwards.  But she makes these stupid decisions daily, doing exactly what I say not to, like some kind of little kid.  She's not my fucking child.  I didn't adopt her, I didn't ask for this, nor did I birth that crazy woman.  I did not ask for a third child.  So if she won't listen to me, then there is no choice but to pawn her off on someone who she will have no choice but to listen to.  

Now, the floor thing wasn't that big of a deal, but we JUST had a conversation about her behavior and how she doesn't listen to me AND SHE APOLOGIZED FOR IT.  Why am I surprised though?  This is what she does.  

In all reality, I am not even all that upset.  Not really.  What actually pissed me off yesterday was her treatment of my oldest son.  He happened to be the one who told her he'd help her cook.  And I knew, and warned him (though he already knew, too) that she will get a hair up her ass and will be mean to him all day.  Because that's what she does when he cooks.  She's a total asshole to him.  And yesterday was no different.  I heard her scream from the kitchen "GIT YOUR ASS IN HERE!" and not even in a joking way.  Who talks to people like that?  Geezus.  He's an adult and hates when I tell her she's being mean, so I keep quiet, but it eats me up inside.  I hate that she thinks she can get away with anything. 

Right now she's slamming dishes around in the kitchen to let me know she's in the kitchen and she's hungry.  She can eat leftovers and knows this.  I've been avoiding her because of yesterday.  Whenever this happens, I get stressed out, because I cannot stand people being rude to my family, so I need some days off away from her.  So I chill out in my room and do fun stuff, like rearrange my bookshelf, watch some "Spinning Out" on Netflix (reminds me of when I used to ice skate), worked more in my name book (I write fiction and I always need names, so I pause TV shows and movies when they're done and write down every single name I can use--half is for first names and half for last), and now I'm blogging.  Oh and I've doing research for another project I'm working on and later, I will start revising my short story (it's like 50 pages long, so it's longer than "short"---actually I didn't work on this at all, instead I played Final Fantasy 7 Remake for a bit and hung out with my kids until I had to pick Mr. Brooks from work).  So when I take time off from her, I always have something to do.  

We all had leftovers for dinner and while my son was getting his (my oldest), I had already gotten mine and was in the living room setting up my video game.  I hate eating in the kitchen with her at the table (from years and years of abuse at the kitchen table which is why I have such eating aversions--which led me to a 2 year bout of anorexia in high school--some tendencies I still have today) so I will turn on a video game to make it look like I have a reason to for not eating with her...though that game is pretty fun, so it's a good reason LOL  Anyways, so my son's getting his food and my mom is standing over him screaming at him that he's taking too much food and eating too much.  FOR SOME FUCKING REASON she thinks she owns holiday leftovers.  AND, he is the ONLY person she will yell at for eating them.  Had it been my youngest, my husband or myself?  She wouldn't have said shit.  But for some reason she thinks she owns my son.  

So I yelled "WOW, YOU'RE BEING REALLY RUDE!"  And then she switched her voice to her stupid "sing-song" voice and acted like she was kidding.  Then she yelled at him again and I said "YOU NEED TO BE QUIET AND LEAVE HIM ALONE!"  And again, she put on her "jokey" voice and continued.  My kids don't like it when I scream at her when she's being rude to them, but she was already being horrendous to him the day before and I told him just how much it bothers me and he relayed it also bothered him, so he didn't mind yesterday when I yelled at her.

We used to eat dinner together every single night.  But then she would say stupid shit like "I can't believe you scarfed that down so fast!  Wow!"  or "God, are you already done?  You shoveled all that into your mouth already?"  So I would say "THAT'S RUDE TO SAY, MA!" and the kids would get annoyed with me.  I mean, I get it.  They don't like confrontation.  They are like me, I won't defend myself.  But let her be rude to someone else in the house and they'll step up and tell her to shush, just as I will.  Although I don't think they feel that surging rush of pure rage when I hear someone fucking with my kids.  I know that embarrasses them, so I learned to hold it back.  But I used to feel that whenever my parents would be rude to my friends, too.  I hate that my parents always thought (and mother still thinks) they can do whatever they fucking want to, whenever they want to and to whomever they want to.  It's not right.  And it pisses me off.  But I contain it.  I just say the minimal that needs to be said until she shuts the fuck up and we can go on with our day.  

But I'm telling you right now?  She's never cooking another holiday dinner again.  Period.  She didn't even pay for it, I did, so for her to get huffy and puffy about who's eating what and when?  It's not for her to say.  But it's not like anything will ever stop her as long as she's the person cooking it.   And the only reason she cooked it was because it was a turkey.  So there we have it, I am never buying a turkey again, because I don't cook turkeys. 

So she's still hopped up on some kind of power trip, thinking she can tell people what to do and do whatever she likes.  Apparently my argument with her had ZERO effect.  Oh well.  At least I got to say some choice words to her that I've been wanting to say for a very, very long time.  So that felt good.  It was a small catharsis.  A tiny one, but one nonetheless.  One that I desperately needed.   She told me "Get off that idea of me guilting you!"  I screamed back "Why?  When that's what you're so good at!  You've done nothing but guilt me for every little thing for my entire life, so it's not like anything is new here, ma."  Damn that felt good to say.  I know she didn't "hear" me.  I know she didn't care.  I know she will not remember I said it or take it into her being and change or feel bad about it.  I know this.  But it doesn't fucking matter.  Because I got to say it.  And sometimes, that's good enough.  

She's at the doctor with my hubby right now.  She's stopped bothering me about going with her.  She used to get ANGRY when I didn't go.  So I always had a huge panic attack beforehand and literally would think myself into a migraine just so I could tell her "I have a migraine, I can't go."  Now, I don't have to feel anything at all, other than relief of knowing she won't be anywhere near me for a couple hours.  #relaxedasfuck

So I'm sitting outside, listening to my idiot dogs barking like mad (I love them so much, but damn, they bark at any little thing...which is a huge reason I hate living in neighborhoods) and it's over 70 degrees out and slightly windy and gorgeous and it's wonderful.  Even if later sucks, right now is great.  Even with the freaking barking (I have four dogs, btw...one is a Pomeranian and is the loudest).  Because there is no grating smoker's voice coming from a short old woman in her 70's bitching about a damn thing.  At least not here.  Poor Mr. Brooks.  I hope she's playing nice for him today.  

Okay, time to go make my hubby's and son's lunches for work today.  And enjoy the time I have left until she gets back.