Today I went to the bathroom as Mr. Brooks stood outside the door to wait to use the shower.  And then mother yelled "Oh Mr. Brooks, I have to talk to you guys!"  Oh no.  Usually when mother has to "talk" to us, it's some ultimatum, threat, stupid idea, or something else equally as asinine or rude.  Once she sat us down to "talk" about getting the keys back to her car, even though she drove down the middle of the road into oncoming traffic every single time she'd get on the road.  Once she sat us down to "talk" about why I went no contact with her and also to remind me that the only reason my father drank so much was because I was a bad teenager, and he had to put up with me (I did not let her get away with saying that one, by the way).  Or another time she had a talk with me and my oldest son about what an "irresponsible loser" she thought he was and how he'd have to pay to get her window fixed if someone broke into it, all because his wallet had fell out of his pocket and was on the seat.  I didn't let her get away with that one, either.  The list goes on and on, about her "talks".  Each one is filled with something more insane or stupid or cruel than the last.  And it was right before my husband had to go to work, so he didn't have time to listen to her bullshit.  

So I go pee, I run the water, I flush, I look through the closet, and was all around wasting time because I could hear her right outside the door waiting for me to get out of the bathroom and I knew she was just waiting to "have a conversation" with us.  Like, right almost up against the door.  My poor husband was there, waiting to shower, holding all his clothes, and she still had it up her ass she needed to tell us something, right there in the middle of the hallway. 

So I opened the door and BAM!  She's in my face, and I recoil, thinking good grief, what's she going to say now?  So I do what I always have done when she starts in on one of her rants, I tune her the fuck out.  So I squeeze past her into the hallway, and walk into the kitchen and she starts yelling "WAIT!  You need to hear this!"  I said I can hear you fine, ma, I am only a few feet away (I was getting lotion for my hands).  So she starts to tell us her story.  

"I got up this morning, oh it must have been around three and I see the cat on the counter.  And I think to myself, what is he even doing?  And I look, and you know what he was doing?  He was eating bacon!"  

Um.  Huh?  This was what she wanted to talk to us about so badly?  This is what was worth standing outside the goddamned bathroom door for and taking up all the hallway space?

 "Then, I go to let the cats out and I think 'I better have coffee for this' and I opened the microwave and do you know what I found?" 

"More bacon?"  

"No!  I found an entire pound of sausage someone left in there." 

"Oh yea, oops, I forgot that.  Oh well.  It's garbage now."  

"Well, then I let the cats out and I see the neighbor cat run out of nowhere chasing one of our cats and I get a broom and literally run into the yard and I'm screaming 'Get the fuck outta here you little asshole!' and I found myself in the dark in the middle of the yard in my pajamas and slippers!"  

"So, you decided to not put shoes on and run through a yard without support, in the dark?  Are you freaking kidding me?"

"Well, someone had to chase that cat away!"  

I sighed.  "That's what the hose is for, ma.  You are insistent on breaking your bones.  So what would you have done had you fallen and not been able to get up?  It was the middle of the night and we were all asleep.  Do I have to check the backyard now when I get up to pee?"  

Like I've said before, she's a fall risk.  She's unsteady on her feet.  And she's stubborn as fuck and does whatever she wants, even though she knows she's not supposed to do it (she actually does these things on purpose because she loves to brag about doing stupid things).

So this is what her "talk" was about.  You'd think all of this was dementia, but it's not.  The first thing about the cat eating bacon is that when she was in rehab, I stopped feeding her cat wet food.  My mother used to buy over $100 of wet food for her cats each month and feed them at least a can each daily, plus he was allowed to eat half her dinner (which always pissed me off as I paid for food for HUMANS, and I paid for catfood for CATS).  Well, her one cat used to barf it all up, like several times a day.  This went on a for a freaking year before I became in charge.  So I saw how much he actually pukes (like a LOT), so I just quit feeding all of them.  And, he stopped barfing.  Wow.  I am like a rocket scientist or something  So now, she gets on my case if any food is left out at night, blaming me that either he will puke again, or that he has puked again.  She found a way to turn it around on me, even though she was at fault for over a year doing it to him to begin with.  

And last night, I didn't realize there a bacon on the counter.  

The second part was to make me feel stupid for wasting a pound of sausage, even though she doesn't pay for any food in the house.  She said it in a real shitty tone of voice, as though I was a moron for leaving it in the microwave.  

The third thing was about how she loves to brag about being a badass and to get me angry, knowing damn well she's not supposed to walking in the yard without support (much less running).  That's it.  

We assumed her "talk" was going to be something demanding, or pushy, or rude.  She loves to stir shit up when she's bored.  But this was all about scolding us, shaming me, and bragging.  Which I guess all were meant to stir shit up, but I found them silly instead and didn't really respond too much about any of it.

The idea she made such a huge deal about it all, now that could have been her dementia.  She's been pretty loopy lately, saying all sorts of things that make zero sense.  But as she was talking to us, my oldest son kept walking up to us and she screamed at him to "shut his mouth" and "go away".  I was so confused by her saying that to him, that I almost made her stop speaking so I could ask.  

But then he pulls me aside and says "She tripped on the hose in the backyard and doesn't want me to tell you."  Ohhhhhhhh, now it makes sense.  She thinks my kids keep secrets from me LOL  For her!  HA! How adorable is that?  

Well, yeah, I can't do anything about her running half-naked into the dark in the middle of the night.  She's not far enough gone for me to start locking the doors yet.  So what can I do?  

What would have happened had she fallen and been stuck out there until we woke up?  She's be in a home, that's what.  I refuse to take care of her the minute she starts putting her life in jeopardy like that.  I hope last night made her learn her lesson, but I highly doubt it.  My mother is the queen of doing what she wants, which makes it so hard to be her caregiver. 

Sigh. 

When you live with your narc parent and the house is in their name and so is the only car you use, you can get pretty complacent and forget just how much control they still have over your life and the lives of your family.  Until you sit down and say "Whoah, if ma had to go in a home, they could take everything away from us.  Oh crap."

So we've been saving up for a car for months, and even though we could have bought one a while ago, I've been reluctant, since buying used cars for us means they always break beyond repair in five minutes.  I grew up my entire life with my parents never having a car payment.  We always bought used cars, and they always lasted.  Granted, my dad was a mechanic, so he could fix them pretty easily.  So I guess, their cars probably broke down a lot, too, it's just that he knew how to fix them himself, and we don't, so we end up always having to trash them.  My oldest son is learning how to fix cars, though I'd love to sign him up for a course or a degree on this, so he'd spend less of our money trying things and having them not work LOL  But I guess that happens even to mechanics, too.  

Anyways, I've also been reluctant to buy one since I don't like change.  I love small minor fun change.  But having a second car (for our household of five) is a big change, which means mother will be asking to go more places regularly.  And I don't want to do that.  I don't want to be pressured to have to drive her to places she doesn't need to be going (she has issues with spending too much money) or to be taking her places when I don't feel well (I have POTS, so I don't feel well, a lot).  And when I say no, she will bitch, moan, complain, be rude to me (or my oldest son), or threaten to punish us.  And who wants to put up with an old woman's temper tantrums?

So I wasn't too keen on finding a car.  But I couldn't say no to this one.  The guy lives right down the street, in a nice neighborhood, he's fixed this one up, its the make and model we wanted (it's an SUV with a truck frame, so it can haul more weight than a newer version of the same car), it's roomy as hell (we have 5 people and four dogs, and we can all fit comfortably together if need be), and I paid out of pocket for it, with zero car payments.  This also means we'll have very low car insurance payments each month, too.  

We haven't had our own car in couple years (we did have one from a shitty "buy-here-pay-here" place that was such a PILE OF CRAP that we just had the tow truck driver drop it off to them, after having to tow it at least six times due to is constantly breaking, and left it there for them to deal with).  So it feels nice to hopefully have our own car again for a short bit (maybe a long bit?).  Though, I know the only way to get a nice enough car will be buy a newer one at the dealership.  But we're still fresh into this whole "making enough money to live on" thing that's been a recent development in our lives, so I am scared to death of taking on payments for something that takes so long to pay off, just in case we don't have the money to do it (been there, done that, more than once). 

The upside is if this one breaks, my son will use it as a car to work on and learn how to fix cars, so there's that  But I hope nothing major happens.  I really like this car (even though it's a strange color), and know that it's really hard for me to like cars.  I hate most cars (I have ASD and I am uncomfortable in most cars LOL). But I loved this one car we had.  But the memory of what happened to it still bothers me, so since then, it's been really hard for me to love another one again.  I know, I'm weird.  Cars aren't people.  But some items in life feel like a part of you, you know?  

But hopefully, for however long we have this car, I will feel a little more secure in owning something that's ours, and not having to borrow hers.  I mean, we still have to drive her car, as Mr. Brooks needs to get work.  But at least if she goes into a home tomorrow for any reason and they can take her car, we'll still have one.  I mean, we won't have a house, but at least we'll have car.  One thing at time, right?  And this one can pull a good-sized camper, so our next job is to find a camper that fits within the weight limits of it's towing capacity (the things you don't think about until you have to...I always thought just "buy a camper" and pull it...nope, you need the right vehicle for the job).  

One step forward, right?  Let's just hope it stays going forward.  Vroom vroom!

Our kids went camping on Sunday.  They are really into survival stuff, as am I, and we wanted to make the best out of their first time camping alone.  We spent too much money, but it was worth it.  Even though they had rented the site for two days and only ended up staying one.  Nothing beats life experience to tell you how much you hate something.  Turns out, we're all "RV/Camper" type campers and not really tent campers.  My son calls me in the morning to say "You know how I said that people who camp on blow-up mattresses are pussies?"  I laughed and said "Found out you were talking about yourself, eh?"  He replied "Yup.  I cannot believe anyone even likes laying on the hard ground, much less sleep on it."  

So that was a fun adventure.  At least they stayed all night (they kind of had to--the park is locked up at 10).  They last time they went camping, they were little and were at summer camp.  They called us that night to come get them before they even went to sleep.  Now, I don't fault them for that.  They were staying in a bunk with zero air conditioning and the water fountain water was warm and it was like in the 80's overnight and and as hot as the devil's bunghole all day.  My oldest son and I have heat intolerance, so yeah, I would have went home, too.  

But they stuck it out Sunday night.  Even though they were bored out of their minds.  Turns out, you really need a car when camping at a state park, since it's HUGE and if you want to do anything recreational, you have to drive to get there.  They did get a lot of videos of the chipmunk army that invaded their camp, so that was something (my boys are huge animal lovers--we recently adopted four toads from our yard and made a terrarium for them).  

My hubby dropped them off and their gear (we have very small car, so it barely fit the three of them and all their stuff) and then came back and picked up me and my mom to go see their campsite.  And all mother did the entire time we were there was complain, boss around my oldest son (her 2nd scapegoat), bash him for asking me questions (saying things like "Oh come on, do it yourself!"), and then talking over me constantly every time I tried to reply when he did ask me something, until I had had enough and yelled over her, which she did not like.  Then she complained she couldn't smoke.  And then about ten minutes in (yes, it had only been ten minutes by then), she bitched to go home.  On the way home she said "Oh, that was so fun! I got two field trips in one weekend!"  I was so angry and annoyed that I could not enjoy being in the outdoors with my two boys that I just ignored her all the way home.  I'm still annoyed about it, and have been avoiding her as much as I can (though I always keep an eye on her).  

Saturday, the day before camping, we had a thousand places to go (okay, six, but that's a LOT), but she was complaining she wanted to go to the grocery store (which she cannot do) so I caved and said "Well, I'll take you to garage sales if you like instead."  She's a sucker for a garage sale.  It was 90 degrees outside, but she wanted to go, so we did.  I stopped and got cash and we went to the neighborhood association sales across from our neighborhood.  Not many were open, but we found one and she kept trying to buy stuff we already owned.  One conversation went like this:

"Oh, look at this!  Let's get it!" (she holds up a coffee grinder)

"I have that same exact one at home.  We don't need that."

"Yes, but we can use this one for nuts." 

"I don't make things with nuts.  And besides, you can't eat them."

"Yes I can!"

I didn't want to say "You have no teeth."  So I said "No.  You can't."

"If you chop them small enough." 

"Ma, you can use the grinder we have at home for nuts."

"That one has coffee in it."  

"No, it's cleaned out.  We do not need two." 

"Well, I don't want coffee on my nuts!"  

Sigh.  

"Hey ma, look at this shirt.  Isn't this cute?" (trying to get her mind onto something else so she'd stop obsessing about the coffee grinder)

She ran off behind me and yelled "Look at me!"  I turned to see her on an air glider machine.  Good lord.  Those things are NOT stable.  You step on it, and the foot hold moves forward immediately.  How she got up on the damn thing, I will never know, but there she was, gliding back and forth while holding the back legs.  

The lady who lived there looked alarmed and walked up to her and said, very slowly "Listen, you are not being safe.  You need to either hold the front poles, or the front bar.  Not the back.  You are going to fall.  And since this is my house, I am responsible if you fall."  

You'd think she'd know this.  But not my mother.  Even without dementia, she would have done the same thin--she never thinks before she acts.  Then she grabbed the front bar and kept going.  She got herself so sweaty, she got down a couple moments later and said "I need to go home now.  It's way too hot out here."  She couldn't walk to the car, so my son ran and grabbed her cane for her and we walked her to the car and we went home.  

And then we ran all our errands for their camping trip (my mother tried to make me add a 7th stop to get her grapes, but I told her most likely I could not do it, due to how many places I needed to go--let me tell how my mother asked me to get her grapes, btw..she doesn't "ask", she whines in her little girl voice "I WANT GRAPES! I WANT GRAPES! I WANT GRAPES! I WANT GRAPES!--this is not her dementia, ladies and gentlemen, this is always how she acts when I can't do something for her and she wants it) and then I came home, unloaded the car, and collapsed into a heap and went to sleep.  The end. 

Good lord. 

My body and my brain paid me back for doing so much work all weekend by giving me a HUGE flare-up of my POTS symptoms, making me unable to leave my bed all day Monday, until later in the day.  I was in pain, and dizzy as hell, which was only alleviated by laying down.  The day before, my hubby had a migraine all day and was laying down.  Mother says "Oh, does Mr. Brooks not feel good?" in her best pity voice.  I said "He has a migraine."  Again, in her pity voice, she says "Aww, poor guy!  I feel so bad for him.  I wish there was something I could do." ::barfgag::  Then, on Monday, I had my heating pad wrapped around my neck (I get cervicogenic headaches more than I get migraines--though I get both--which is like a migraine in your neck) and I got up to pee and she sees me and says "Oh, got a headache?" in her shitty voice.  I said "yeah".  She said "Well, when you're done feeling bad, you can fix my computer."  

And this is why we make jokes that my mother has a crush on my husband.  Because fuck me if I feel bad.  But "poor Mr. Brooks" if he feels bad.  

I went into her room, restarted her webpage and it fixed the issue and I went back to bed.  There.  Fixed.

I did get up and cook dinner for everyone.  As now I only cook when Mr. Brooks is home.  The rest of the week I precook food so I can just serve it (genius, isn't it?).  

The best part of any time Mr. Brooks is home (he was off Monday, thank goodness) is that the four of us (our kids and us) all play "Don't Starve Together" online together.   It's a great way to destress and have fun and decompress.  Sometimes Mr. Brooks and I play alone together, too LOL Which is what we did yesterday night after dinner until we went to sleep.  

Having to deal with your crazy mother is so much more bearable when you have three other great people living with you that help the crazy times feel less crazy.  She wasn't horrible this weekend (minus the shitty way she treated me when I felt terrible on Monday, but that's how she always treats me when I am sick--even when I was a kid), just a little annoying.  

All in all, it was an okay weekend.  My plants are growing like crazy in my new greenhouse.  And I even got to use my own backyard alone for a little bit (finally--she's been hogging the backyard for like eight hours a day, every single day lately--which would be okay if she didn't smoke).  

This summer is going to be interesting with everything opening back up.  I counted on the lockdown last year to help curb mother's crazy spending habits.  I just hope I broke her of all that enough to not have her constantly asking me for money or to go to the store.  

Oh, and there was one a dementia moment this weekend.  She wondered what was on her pizza.  I said "black olives" (she always bitches I get cheese pizza that I should put things on it..so I did).  And she said "No, the white stuff."  I stared at her said "That's cheese, ma."  She said "Oh? I always thought pizza was red?"  (and I serve pizza at least once a month in our house)

Oh goodness.  Those moments make me sad and remind me of what's coming next.  My therapist told me "When she's being bad or annoying or mean, just remember, this is all temporary."  And these moments remind me of just how temporary it all really is.  

Happy June, y'all.  If you're caretaking your narc parent, just take it one day at a time and remember: this is all temporary.  

One Year Later

So here we are, one year later, after moving in with the woman I swore I'd never have anything to do with ever again two years prior to moving in here.  In 2018, my family was forced back into her life after we went no contact with her a year and half prior after we became homeless.  We lived under her rule for the first year, with no car, no jobs, no furniture, or anything of our own.  And it was horrid.  The next year we finally had jobs, a car of our own, and most of our stuff back.  She did ZERO to help us get anything we needed (actually, my ex-husband is the person who gave us things when we were truly in need, go figure).  And that next year it was better.  Not perfect or even great, but better.  And then we started to fear living in the apartment complex we lived in together (she was downstairs, we were up) as our landlord was getting up there in age and since coming back from homelessness, we feared for our safety (meaning we feared becoming homeless again).  Between the two households, we had four dogs and ten cats.  Who would rent to us?  And if mother went into assisted living, how would we deal with all of her cats by ourselves?  So we decided to buy a house together.  We moved in April 1st of 2020 (during the pandemic) and here we are a year later. 

What's changed, what's stayed the same, and what's to come?  

What's Changed

One year ago, things were quite different.    I was told by her that I was not allowed to decorate any of the house myself.  I had my bedroom and the kids' bathroom (I say kids, but they are grown men) and that was it.  We moved all of her stuff into the house ourselves and then we had to move all of our stuff into the house.  It was a lot of work, in which she bitched about it the entire time.  We moved in and she took complete and total charge of everything.  I felt like a visitor in my own home (in which we paid for half of everything) and it never felt like home for those first several months.  Even though a) I did ALL the work to buy this house (and it wasn't easy, let me tell you--I've never done it before, either) and I am in charge of paying all the bills.  At first, I tried to feel comfortable.  Even though I wasn't allowed to put out furniture where I wanted, or do much of anything at all.  She took control of everything and put herself in charge of where everything went, even my stuff.  I have been our main cook since day one (and now our only cook), and she still thought she could come in an rearrange the kitchen every five god damned minutes.  My stuff was always missing, too.  She'd find my stuff and gather it up and stick it in drawers or even went as far to hide many of my things in places I was lucky to even find them.  And no matter how much I asked her to stop, she'd scream at me and still did it anyways.  So much of my life was spent undoing what she did.  She'd rearrange my stuff in cabinets, and I'd put it all right back.  This was constant, and became my entire life for a period of time.  Until eventually she just gave up.  Thank freaking goodness.  

In the beginning, I thought I could sit where I wanted to do things (I started my first memoir when we moved in, and used to write for hours on end).  Like read or write or do my projects.  But as it turns out, I was chased out every single place until I ended up in my room behind a locked door (which is where I am still at right now LOL).  The anger, and seething of her on purpose intrusions and interruptions I felt when we first moved in drove me to keep trying to find places to hide from her.  She'd always, always find me and think she could come interrupt whatever it was I was doing just so she could get attention.  She'd bang stuff around really loudly, make noise (with her mouth), talk to me about things that made no sense to interrupt me for, scream for her cats, come smoke by me (if I was outside) to make me leave, just say random things, etc.  I get that's she's bored now.  But back then, she wasn't bored.  She did that kind of shit to me for my entire life (though back in the olden days, I didn't hide from her and could stand being around her and was around her way too much).  She craves attention (which is why she's depressed now, because we moved away from her friends who gave her all the attention she wanted and then some).  I even would hide in the garage and she'd find me in there and come in with her cigarette, knowing I am allergic to smoke, just to drive me to leave.  If I was in the living room, she'd run through the house screaming just to make enough noise to stop me from writing.  So safe to say, I was going quite a bit insane last year around this time.   I don't even want to remember what it was like.  Yuck.

Luckily, my hubby was laid off in June of last year (his business went under due to the pandemic) and was laid off for six months, otherwise I don't know if I could have survived all that time with her during her "turbulent days".  That's what I'm going to call them.  Because hot damn, she was a fucking handful.  

If I could have looked into the future to see only that time?  I would still be living in our apartment.  We all would.  Because there would have been zero way we would have moved.  ZERO.  Funny though, back then?  I felt better.  I could stand her more.  But after dealing with that for so long, I've become less and less tolerant of her behavior and words.  Anyways, though, little by little, she began to give up her hold on things.  She is GUNG HO about something in the beginning, but has ZERO staying power.    She gets hyped up about control (I guess that interests her? LOL).  And then slowly, it peters out over a period of time.  Like last year, she killed all my plants because she was adamant about being in control of MY veggie garden and then just out of the blue stopped watering it without telling me (I watered it, but she wanted to, so I let her and then she just stopped and I didn't know).

So little by little, she released her grip on everything in the house.  She stopped cooking and had me do all of it.  She stopped trying to get me let her go in the basement (after our stairs literally broke).  She stopped rearranging my stuff (though she still does this outside with my garden gnomes).  She stopped fucking with my stuff and hiding it.  She stopped trying to boss me around about my veggie garden.  She stopped going into the kids' bathroom and rearranging everything (she'd do this daily back then).  She stopped all of the constant rearranging, actually.  Especially after she went into the rehab home in January of this year, because while she was gone, I put all my stuff back that she took down or had me put away when we first moved in (it was like my stuff was good enough "for now" until whatever she chose to put up was better--which was everything).   She finally stopped trying to clean their bathroom, too, for no reason (though I caught her a few months ago using some nasty bleach cleaner in there and screamed at her for it--I am sensitive to harsh cleaners).  She stopped all of it.  I am not sure if it's due to the fact when she went into rehab I literally moved all her stuff into her room (like her cat tower that took up a MASSIVE amount of space in the living room that she insisted on having in there) and replaced everything in the house with new stuff (drapes, couches, blinds, decor, etc.) so her only domain was her room--just like she did to me when we moved in or if it's somewhat due to her depression.  Or maybe both?

Whatever it is, I can finally breathe, for the most part.  She's not the same person we moved in with a year ago.  Thank freaking goodness.  It only took a year to get here.  

Another thing that's changed is how I feed my mother.  Here's the thing: I love to cook.  But I honestly DO NOT like slaving for hours each night in the kitchen.  I don't mind it for a period of time, but then I go stir crazy and need a break.  I am not my mother.  I am not the type of person who can put dinner on the table each night at a same time, sharp.  Growing up, we ate at 6pm every single night, no matter what.  That's so not me.  I am creative.  And I have ADHD.   I am a tad scatterbrained.  I can train myself to do better, but dinner is not a thing I honestly make a big deal about.  Food is fuel.  If I didn't have to eat, I wouldn't.  But mother requires dinner to be made for her early (she used to bitch at me every single day about it) and what, I'm going to make a huge meal to let sit and get cold because the rest of us do not eat at 4:30 every day?  

So, I changed how I feed her.  And I how I cook in general.  I use my instant pot to make enough rice for many days.  I have a slew of meal prep containers I keep buying.  At first, I cooked and froze the meals, but now I just keep a serving of rice, mashed potatoes, or some other base in each one.  Then I buy Smart Ones when they are sale 5 for $10 or 3 for $5 or something like that.  I stock the fuck up on everyone's favorites.  We have two chest freezers, so I just pile them in.  This way Mr. Brooks can take a meal prep container of base food (rice, potatoes, other grains, etc.) and make his microwave meal and pour it on top.  Those are really good, mostly low in sodium and calories.  I feed my mother these things, too.  I also buy frozen potato steamables and whatnot, too to make for her for a side dish with whatever I cook.  These are quick meals I can make in either 5 minutes or up to 20 minutes.  But no hours on end of cooking, just either bake or microwave and bam, done!  I used to make elaborate meals (elaborate because I use many ingredients, not elaborate ingredients...I'm a down-home cooking girl, not a Rachel Ray type and her "stupid crap nobody's ever head of recipes"--the most fancy food I cook is kale, and that's some basic shit).  

I also buy pot pies, because mother loves them, and other frozen stuff I find (other kinds of steamables).  This means I can get dinner on the table quickly and I can go back to doing what I'm doing.  I think this is the BIGGEST change I've made since moving in and I am LOVING it!  It feels great to only cook real meals when my hubby is home to eat with us (1-2x a week).  I no longer feel like a slave to dinnertime (or my mother, who used to REQUIRE use all to eat together at the table each and every single night, after I worked for 2 hours cooking it).  Now, I can eat where the fuck I want to!  Hell yeah!  Yeah, I have to say this is the best thing that's changed this past year, for the most part.  

What's The Same

As for what's the same?  She still gets something up her sleeve about spending massive amounts of money to upgrade the house.  She still tries to go behind my back to hire people for random things (even though she doesn't have access to the money).  She still tries to boss us around, but much less so.  She still fawns over my hubby and treats me like garbage (but in an underhanded way, so to others, it looks like she's doing nothing wrong). 

And she still smokes.  Even more so now.  Gross.  

What's To Come

Okay, so here is an interesting plan for us.  We're going to live here until we can't (either mother goes in a home, or some other way we lose the house).  Or we just decide to leave (and put other in a home).  We are looking for a remote job for Mr. Brooks for human resources.  He'll have his APHR soon, and already has a diploma in HR (thank you to being laid off and a great job beforehand that allowed him to go to school full time while working full time).  He's got an offer, but we're not sure of the pay yet.  So we need to check on that.  When he's working remotely, we're going to buy two RV's and live in them for a bit until we find where we want to put down roots.  We want land in our home city to come back to, but we also want land in various states to park on while we're visiting.  There's an entire RV community out there that pretty fucking awesome.  You can do traveling jobs all over the US and work seasonal jobs (like The Beet Harvest, for one).  And we're headed in that direction, because we really do not want a house payment or bills of that sort anymore.  

And we want to travel.  

And, we never, EVER want to be homeless again.  It's a scary prospect.  And having an RV (most preferably, ones we do not drive, but tow, because repairing an RV that you have to drive means you can be homeless while they repair it).  We want to live like turtles, with our homes on our backs and be nomads for a bit.  We cannot decide where to live (we've looked into almost all of the states) and found that we kind of want to live everywhere.  

And I've been doing TONS of research for the past few years on boondocking, living off-grid (not that I want to live fully off-grid, just in case we are somewhere where we have to), and the such and I created a note book for all my info.  Thank goodness for Pinterest and Youtube!  I hate the internet, but it has done some things right LOL  Anyways, that's where we're headed in the future.  It may take a bit, but we'll get there.  And it may change as opportunities present themselves.  But for now, we're just making plans and doing what we need to do to get to our future lives.  I'm scared, but excited.  And I'm freaking grateful so much of my life has calmed down and changed for the better since last year.  

And all that numb feeling crap I was having I think is gone, too.  I wonder if I have SAD?  I know winters are hard for me.  They have been for years.  But I'm finally feeling better now (though my anxiety isn't better, in fact, it's a tad worse--but that's my brain for ya, been that way my whole life).  

I can't say what the next year will bring, but our lives have changed immensely for the better this past year (one thing is that Mr. Brooks is making the money he's always wanted to make, with opportunities to make even more--which means we're finally, for the first time in our adult lives, off public aid!).  And I grateful for every little thing that's been good this past year (when so much of it was so very, very bad with the pandemic).  This year has made up for our shitty 2018 year from hell.  

Still living with ma, but like I said, it's better in some ways with her, too.  She's not driving me batshit crazy anymore (though, that may change--though with our lives being better in other ways, maybe I'll be able to handle it better in the future? who knows...).  

Also, I've been working with someone to create a healing guided journal/workbook for adult women of narcissistic mothers.  So, I'll post about it when it's ready :)  Very excited about that one, even just to get a copy just for me! LOL  

Till next time.

So apparently what my mother needed to get out of her funk is to be told she has cancer.  

Mmmkay. 

The other day, Mr. Brooks took her to the dermatologist and found out that the mark on her nose is most likely cancer.  Though they assume it's 100% curable with removal of the mark.  That day, she came home in a mood.  You'd think a foul mood, but no.  She was back to her insanity being completely insane.  Like hyper insane.  She was on some sort of kick (she gets on these kicks, usually due to some sort of external thing, but they usually don't last--let's hope this one doesn't) and starting putting her hands on people again, starting with punching my husband in the knee and hitting me with a box.  She's not allowed to do these things, because she hurts people, but all bets are off when you're high on a cancer diagnosis.  

And then she starts in with the "participating".  What I mean by "participating" is when mother gets into a mood where she wants to be a part of everything everyone is doing, at all times.  Every little second, she's commenting and bossing people around, and being overall annoying, and sometimes downright rude.  She can quickly get on people's nerves when she's like this, because she just doesn't stop.  It's constant.  

So we live in toad country (it's like wine country, but with less drunk people and more ribbits), so my son decided to create a terrarium for some toads that live in our backyard (there's like a billion) complete with dirt and plants and stuff.  So we laid the large pieces of gravel down, covered it with a screen, and then put the dirt in and then found some isopods to add in (we have a wooded area behind our house so there's tons of isopods in there), leaves, sticks, big rocks and some cork bark for them to play in and on.  It's actually pretty rad and I wouldn't mind living in it.  But I'm slightly too big, so that's not going to happen (yet!).  

Anyways, my son's out digging in my garden for dirt, and she's yelling at him the whole time.  Not like mean yelling, just commenting loudly and giving him orders.  Then he's gathering leaves and whatnot and she's screaming "You have enough!  There will be no more room for the frogs!  You don't need anymore!" and he asked for my help with something and she's screaming "Do it yourself!  Your mother doesn't need to help you!  Do you need to ask your mother for help with everything?!"  And shit like that. THE ENTIRE TIME.  So we head into the house to start putting it together, and she's follows him in and sits right at the table and makes comments "Put it there!  No, I said over there!  Why do you need that?  What are you doing?"  Blah blah blah blah blah blah.  For months, she's been silent.  Like a ghost haunting the halls of Brooks Manor.  And then all of a sudden it's like someone turned her off switch to SUPER FUCKING HIGH!  The contrast was deafening and I could not tolerate it, so my poor son, who does well ignoring her (bless him), had to work on it alone, with her bitching and barking orders at him the entire time.  I snapped a couple of times at her, when she was going overboard, but she didn't seem to notice, because she kept right on.  

Good grief.  

My son is an adult, btw, so don't think I left a kid alone to take her shit.  If he was like 8, I'd be all over her ass to shut up (and I have been, because she did act this when he was 8--hell, she acted like this up until she became depressed).  And it makes my son uncomfortable when I snap at her, so I left the room and came in to help when needed (I got to carry the toads up from his room to transfer them from their old enclosure to their new one!  And I scared the shit out of the poor things.  Oops.).  

Yesterday she wasn't as bad.  Today either.  Most likely, she'll go back to her depressive self, where she spends massive amounts of time alone and hardly speaks to anyone.  Which makes me sad, because I don't like anyone to feel this way.  But at the same time, when she feels good, she acts like what I described above.  

When we first moved in here a year ago, that's how it was, all day, every single day.  For months on end. Like, almost the entire year.  When she's depressed, she stays out everyone's business and doesn't interfere or usually do things she's not supposed to do (well, that's not true, she still does shit she's not supposed to do, but it's minor compared to when she's not depressed).  She makes everyone's lives easier in this house.  But I do not feel right letting her suffer so we all can live better.  Sounds dumb, because she does so much stuff that's hurtful and mean at times.  But I'm not her.  I do not enjoy letting someone else feel bad so I can feel good.  She's batshit crazy and annoying when she feels good, but I'd rather her feel good.  Even though it makes my life a living hell at times.  

I can live better knowing I did what I could to help her be happy while she's with us, rather than letting her suffer for our benefit.  But that doesn't mean I'll let her start hitting people again or being an asshole to everyone (especially my oldest son--he's scapegoat #2).  There is a limit.  

Anyways, her docs (neither of them) will up her depression meds.  They want her to do therapy.  And I hate, hate, HATE her using my phone to do phone call appointments if I am not in the room.  I do not like having her have unfettered access to my private data (not cellphone data, but the data I store on my phone LOL).  And I hate that Mr. Brooks could text me at any time and she'd see it.  She is nosy as SHIT and will certainly read it.  She's horrible like that.  Once, I buttdialed her and she listened to an entire conversation my husband and I had about me getting surgery (which was just suggested to me by my doc) and she never hung up the phone.  I got back and she started talking to me about it, as though it was any of her fucking business.  I was horrified.  As a kid, she'd read all my notes I'd pass to friends at school and then yell at me about what was said in them.  She is HORRIBLY nosy.  Or as we in the real world say, she has ZERO respect for boundaries.  So no, I will not let her use my phone for an hour each week, alone, in her room, with the door shut.  

So I found a workaround.  I found that you can use Google Duo on an old phone.  I have lots of those laying around.  All you have to do is sign up with Google Voice with a real number and you can install it on any phone.  And then use Google Duo with that Google Voice number and bam!  You got yourself a phone for doctor's appointments without draining your battery or getting update notifications which fuck Google Duo video calls up (for real, it really messes up your video call). You can't call out with Google Voice on an old phone (maybe you can, but I can't for some reason).  But you can use Google Duo!  Hooray!  Which is all I need it for.

So now to sign her up with a therapist.  And she can even keep the phone if she likes.  Oh, and I use a phone stand for her, since she can't figure out how to hold it up properly.  

Since her cancer diagnosis perked her up (insanely), I am thinking therapy might actually work.  Granted, I am not looking forward to her becoming insane again, but I honestly can't live with myself letting her be depressed without trying to help her.  No, I don't owe her jack shit.  I know this.  But I am not a bad human.  I don't have to owe someone to help them.  If she didn't live with me, it may be a different story.  But she lives here because I chose to take care of her until I can't anymore.  And this is within the realm of what I can do.  I can't change her diapers.  I can't lift her.  I can't have her in a wheelchair in our house.  Things like that.  But I can advocate for her mental health.  

Like I said, I don't owe her anything.  And I know she owes me everything: money, apologies, etc.  But I know I can't collect because she'll never give me what she owes me.  But I really can't collect by letting her suffer.  That's the difference between me an her.  She'd let me suffer if she thought I owed her.  I am not her.  And I will not let her behavior define me to be like her.  

So, hooray for Google.  Even though they are our evil corporate overlords who use everything we say and type on our phones and computers to create ads for us to buy things and to even sway the way we think about politics.  At least they gave me a way for my mom to get mental help without her nosy ass using my phone.  So, uh, yeah.  That's something, right? 

Mother hates herself.  It's how all narcissists truly feel, deep down inside, no matter how much they try to make everyone think otherwise.  They hate themselves, due to their own narcissistic abuse from their parents and their messed up brains they were born with that causes them to see the world and everyone in it the way they do.  Their black and white thinking that says "all or nothing" contributes to this self-hatred.  But then again, don't we all hate ourselves, at least a little?  And not all of us decide to act the way they do.  They have a slew of very unhealthy coping mechanisms to deal with this self-hatred, thinking that if they could push those nasty feelings onto someone else, they will feel better.  It doesn't work, by the way, which is why they keep doing it.  Their sociopathy (whether they have a little or a lot of it) prevents them from realizing that "Hey, this isn't working, I still feel awful about myself, maybe I should stop being such an asshole to everyone else?"  But self-hatred makes you lash out, and with sociopaths, their self-hatred makes them lash out in horrendous ways, because they know no boundaries in which they should not cross.  To them, calling and having your bank card marked as stolen is the same as not talking to you.  To them, one is not worse than the other.  And both are valid ways to react when someone makes you mad.  They don't get that one can FUCK UP YOUR LIFE and other other is no big deal.  My mother did this to me once when she was angry at me.  And she never understood just how evil of an act that was.  

They are emotionally stunted, caught somewhere between being a toddler and being a shitty teenager.  Not all teens are shitty, just the shitty ones are.  So their actions are that of a child.  The child parts of them are acting out when they feel hurt or abandoned or slighted in any way.  And, just like a child, they imagine slights coming from you, which is their self-hating parts of themselves showing through.  Rather than see "Oh, you tell me not to do these things because I can hurt myself" (as in the case of my mother), they see it as "YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE!  YOU ARE TAKING EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME!  YOU ARE MEAN!  I WILL GET MY REVENGE!"  

Which is not only childish, but a little bit crazy.  My mother's revenge, nowadays (since she has nothing left to take from me, really), is to do exactly what I told her not to, or to ask me relentlessly to do these things (as in the case of the basement, which is she is not allowed to go into, per her physical therapist's orders) until I scream at her (in that case, I had to scream at her more than once about it).  And she does these things on purpose so I get angry.  It's a game for her.  One she always loses, but still, she loves playing them anyways.  She wants to rile me up, which is the only way she can get her narcissistic supply anymore.  And if I don't take the bait (meaning, if I don't say anything about her doing what I told her not to), she will bring it up to me, saying something like "Don't you realize who did this thing I wasn't supposed to do?" (not in those words, she will actually say thing she wasn't supposed to do LOL).  Though, unlike her, I make good on my promises.  If I say "You bother me about going into the basement again, and I will lock the door so I never have to worry if you're defying me behind my back," I mean it.  I even bought the doorknob with a lock on it.  As a child, she'd threaten me but she'd always be bluffing.  Never once did she follow through on a threat.  I do not threaten her, I just let her know how it will be and then I do it.  

Also, unlike her, I do not say these things for no reason.  When we moved upstairs from her in 2018 after coming back from homelessness, she locked up her house so I'd have to knock to come in.  In my entire life, I never had to knock going into her house...in fact, NOBODY had to knock, as her door was always literally open.  So when we did this to me, and yet all her friends were allowed to come and go as they pleased without knocking, I just stopped visiting her and used the outside door to get to the basement to do laundry.  And now we live in a house together and I lock my door because for some reason she thinks (and has always thought) she can do the same to me, just walk into my space without knocking (or a quick knock and immediately open before I answer).  

Growing up, I wasn't allowed a lock on my bedroom door.  And my mother would always barge right in.  Our bathroom had a lock, and that didn't matter, as she would get a metal skewer and pop the lock open no matter what I was doing inside.  I mean, we did have two freaking bathrooms but no, she had to barge into my private space whether I was showering or using the toilet.  She had/has an issue with shut or locked doors, which must stem from her childhood, as she also never shut the bathroom door while using the toilet or her bedroom door while undressing/dressing.  

And when we moved in here, she did the same thing, just barged right into my room anytime she wanted.  I got a lock on my door a few months later (after waking up with her standing over me and my husband several times).  And now I lock my door most days.  Some days I don't and she always notices and always still, to this day (I mean she literally did it today) and will just open my door because she feels she has the right to do it.  

And with my door lock, I built a boundaries and a rules: she is not allowed to come into my room at all (due to her snooping in my stuff and her barging in) and she's is not allowed to open my door, period.  She has to knock and wait for me to answer and open the door for her.  I thought I made myself clear with her, but apparently, she thinks she can come into my room still anytime she wants.  So I keep it locked up tight whenever I am in here and whenever I leave the house.  

My point is, I do not make consequences for her because I am angry.  I make consequences for her in direct relation relation to her behavior.  Me not speaking to her and going no contact with her due to her bad behavior is not a reason to create consequences for me.  Her consequences for me have always been because she's angry at me, not as a direct result of my behavior.  Even as a kid.  If she feels slighted in any way, shape, or form, she will punish me.  Me locking my door is not a punishment for her.  It's a boundary for me.  I do not want her invading my spaces so I keep my space protected.  It's as simple as that.  

But she, like all narcissists, act from a place of self-hatred and a childish understanding of life and relationships.  So she lashes out (as they all do) and does things in order to keep herself feeling like shit.  Like her defying me today about taking out our HUGE garbage can when she's not allowed to walk down the driveway without her walker (per her phys therapist's orders).  She knew it would make me angry.  And she wanted to rile me up and get me to be mad at her so she could sit and revel in the feeling of "my daughter hates me because I am a bad person who does bad things" or "I can do what I want!  You can't tell me what to do!"  But mostly, now that she's super depressed because every bit of her narcissistic supply has been put in check, she's looking for ways to pout and be angry about stuff.  

When you take away every bit of a narc's supply, they lash out, act out, and try to punish whoever is taking their supply away.  Even if that means hurting themselves, as in the case of my mother.  So my job is to not care and just put in precautions to keep her safe, even if it pisses her off.  Right now, the garbage cans are chained to the lawnmower in our garage, so she can't think of doing that again.  No reason to get angry with her.  No reason to give into her depressive feelings or whatever she's looking to get out of doing these dumb things and no reason to let this kind of stuff rile me up (which is what she wants).  All my job is to lock everything up, including her if we have to (just kidding, but she has dementia and eventually, she will wander), to keep her safe.  That's it.  

I do feel that learning about IFS (internal family systems) has allowed me to understand narcissism a bit better.  To see that these actions have NOTHING to do with me or anyone else, whatsoever, and are just very volatile, childish, and harmful coping mechanisms, helps me to separate her behavior from my feelings.  BUT it doesn't mean that I think what she does is okay or is somehow "not her fault", as my cousin Mindy once said to me.  Of course it's her fault.  I have bad coping mechanisms to protect myself from pain, too, yet I do not hurt people on purpose.  

Nor do I put myself into danger so others feel sorry for me or make a big deal out of what I do and I get pity, which is what she constantly does.  Which is why I need not get riled up when she does do things.  She wants that.  She likes it.  She wants to complain about it to her friends.  "Oh Shay was angry with me because I did something I wasn't supposed to do!"  She even used to call me from her nursing home a few months ago to tell me all the bad shit she did behind the nurses' backs.  It's really sad to see how much she wants people to see her as a rebel or a "naughty girl".  I don't get it.  But it's just another way she gets her supply.  And right now, it's the only way she can get it.

I have become such a let-down as a daughter.  I know this.  I don't give into her bullshit anymore.  I don't find her amusing.  I don't join her in gossip.  I don't fawn over her anymore.  I don't let her be an obnoxious asshole around me, and when she is, I leave.  And it makes her feel horrible, because she has no idea how to be anything but an obnoxious asshole.  And I don't approve of her, so that hurts her feelings.  Oh well.  I don't like hurting anyone's feelings, but c'mon, she's lived my entire life hurting mine so honestly, she doesn't deserve me as her daughter.  Hell, nobody deserves her as a mother.  I used to be at her beck and call.  I used to play her games.  I used to let her use me and abuse me.  But ever since I stopped, she has turned on herself and become depressed.  It really makes me wonder if it's all a ploy to guilt me or not.  If she's depressed as a way to "show me" she's still in control of the situation.  If she were anyone else, I'd never think that.  I know that depression is a real thing.  I get mental illness.  But knowing she's a manipulative narcissist, so anything is possible.

It's strange to hold so much of someone's self worth in your hands.  I never asked for that.  I never wanted it.   Granted, she used to hold a majority of my self worth in hers (and still does to some respect, which I am working on).  I don't like her being depressed.  But I also really don't like her when she's not depressed.  She's a nicer person when depressed (though, not really, she's more agitated and rude, but then again, she's always agitated and rude).  But I hate that her being depressed makes my life easier.  I feel so very guilty about that.  Because when she's hopped up on good mood fumes, she makes crazy decisions and has crazy thoughts and makes my life 100x more difficult because I have to rein her in.  I feel bad that with her it's always all or nothing.  It's either balls out crazy or balls out depression.  She can't just be normal or in between either.  She will act normal for a small bit, but then she'll use your trust to get balls out crazy and try to abuse that trust.  

Which is why I can't trust her in any moment, on any day.  I've never been able to, even though I used to think I could.  I tricked myself into believing she was normal.  But she never was.  And now, living with her for so long, I can clearly see just how manipulative she really is.  And the massive amounts of guilt I feel for her depression (even though it's not my fault in the least, it's a mixture of moving to where she has ZERO people to control so it cut off her narcissistic supply, along with the pandemic, and a huge part is her dementia), I should remove myself from it.  Because I didn't cause it and even though she treats me like I am the one at fault for how she feels (she also treats my oldest son the same way), I am only her scapegoat, not the cause.  I always have been, I always will be.  And I don't need to take responsibility for any of it.  

Even though deep down, she's always taught me that I am responsible for everything that's wrong in her life.  My father's abuse.  Her need to drink and smoke.  Her mental health.  Her loneliness.  I wish I could just learn to let go of it all.  Perhaps one day I'll stop taking responsibility for her pain.  Until I do, I'll just take it one day at a time and hopefully get through it with my own mental health intact.