So, I've been purging our house's storage because if it's being stored, why we do need it?  I am on a more minimalist journey for years, and little by little, I keep purging all my stuff.  And, I've been purging mother's stuff, too.  I know that sounds douchey, but she's a bit of a hoarder and I am only getting rid of things she will never ask for again.  Like a box of holiday towels.  So yesterday, she went out in the garage where I was storing all this stuff to put into my SUV, and she found the box of towels and brought them into her room.  No reason.  She just likes towels.  She likes a LOT of towels.  Why?  I think it's so she doesn't have to wash them as often.  If you have a thousand, you only have to wash towels every thousandth towel.  She doesn't do laundry anymore, so she just wants towels for the sake of having a thousand towels.  And so I went into her room and took the box and put it in the car, because dammit, I finally got the towels out of the cabinet and then into a box last year, and I almost got them donated.  But we'll donate all that crap tomorrow.  Plus a bunch more.  

Then I headed out to the heart doctor with my hubby.  My mother has no idea what kind of doctors I see.  But lately, she's been acting super fucking strange about me going to my appointments.  She overreacts and pretends like she's freaking out about me having to see doctors.  Now, this could be her dementia, but nobody else in the house is she freaking out over.  It's odd.  And she's never EVER once done that before.  When i was a kid, if I was actually sick, she would refuse to take me until I would call someone else to come take me.  And then she'd say "Oh, I was going to take you!"  Bullshit you were, Ma.  

Then I got back and headed to my room and forgot about making dinner.  I normally don't forget, but my hubby was home with me and when something different happens, I lose my train of thought and forget what I'm supposed to do.  Like, if someone calls me early in the AM, I forget to take my thyroid meds, even though I've done it for almost twenty years.  My life has to be the same every single day, or else I get mixed up.  Blame my ADHD or my ASD, either way, it's damned annoying.  

So today I forgot all about making dinner.  6pm rolls around and she's outside my room whispering.  I waved to my hubby to be quiet.  I pointed to the door and we both listened.  She kept talking real low and eventually she got a little louder and then I realized she was talking to me.  "Are you sick?  Are you feeling okay?"  I yelled back "I feel fine, Ma!  What's wrong?"  Then I saw the time and said "Oh goodness, I forgot to make dinner.  Sorry!"  She said "No, no no, I knew you went to the doctor and thought maybe you were feeling bad so I didn't want to bother you!"  Good thing the door was shut so she didn't see my eyes roll.  She does not give two shits about me, which was clear when I went into the kitchen and all she talked about was how my blender "sliced" her today (it was Friday the 13th, so she thinks it was bad luck).  I told her earlier when she already told me about this to never touch my blender blades, because they are evil and they will always cut you if you try to wash them like a utensil.  I said "Just leave it for me wash, and I'll wash it at dinner".  But she washed it, and it "sliced her" (her words, not mine).  So I relayed how I almost cut two fingernails off two days prior while chopping kale and spinach for dinner.  She ignored me and just talked about herself some more and how she broke her favorite cup, too, and how Friday the 13th is so unlucky.  So reiterate, she doesn't give two shits about me.  Even though I played into her pity party for getting "sliced" by my blender blades (she used this term several times so everyone knew just how hurt she was), she still ignored me when I told her about how I was bleeding everywhere and took a chunk out of my finger (for real, I need to stop using a huge filet knife for chopping).  She literally said nothing.  Not one word. 

She just wanted to eat fucking dinner.  

And she didn't want to look like a jerk forcing her "sick daughter" to cook for her, so she pretended to be worried about me.  Eyeroll.  And after that, she never brought it up again was just happy I was making her some Italian food (I made it last night...and she had no idea it was the same thing...that is definitely her dementia--though whens she found out it was the same thing she complained it wasn't the same as last night's dinner).  Of course she choked on it and gave it to the dogs instead.  So that was worth wasting my time cooking.  FUN!  

Now I have to find a new way to cook for her.  We found out she has esophageal spasms, which fucks with her ability to swallow and gives her horrible chest pain (she was in the ER THREE times for this and nobody knew what was going on!).  So now I have to find how to cook for her so she doesn't choke.  She used to make her own mother, my Meemaw, food by blending it or cutting it into tiny pieces in a food processor.  I know she won't like that if I do that for her, but nobody wants her to barf up her food at the table.  So yeah, she's getting chopped everything from now on.  I will say that mashed potatoes and Smart Ones seems to work really well for her (I use it as a base for the meal).  I used to use rice, too, but now she chokes on that (though...I could chop it up first).  Now I'm going to be back to creating tons of frozen meals for her ahead of time, because that's a lot of work to do each day.  I am all about making chores easier.  

But yeah, she wasn't worried about me one bit.  She's just 1) being nosy...she thinks I will divulge information to her if she pretends to worry (she just wants info if I am getting my covid shots...something she's been talking shit about me for behind my back to her friends...I do have them, both, but fuck if I'm going to tell her for no reason LOL).  So as a way to keep telling me she wasn't asking for food (because she really thinks it's shameful to eat food and be hungry) "Oh, I have to worry about my baby!" as an explanation for knocking on my door.  It was all I could do to not laugh at her.  For fucking real.  If I have a migraine, and she knows it??  This woman will do EVERYTHING she can to make as much noise as possible on purpose.  And when I tell her to stop, she will only get louder.  BUT if my hubby or my youngest son has a headache, she will say "Oh oops!  I better be quiet!"  And 2) she wanted to eat and didn't want to look like a jerk asking me to cook (she ALWAYS takes a roundabout way to ask me to cook for her if I am one minute late making something--which is because of the reason I stated above--she used to shame me about eating, too, up until last year even!).  

And yes, I did get a diagnosis today for an incurable and mostly uncontrollable syndrome.  Finally, after twenty years of being sick.  TWENTY FREAKING YEARS of doctors having no idea what's wrong with me.  And after getting a thousand diagnoses, but none of them applied to all my symptoms.  And now I get to go to a specialized clinic to go and see what they can tell me about it.  Party time!  And not to be a drama queen about it, because I am exaggerating above (though it is incurable and mostly uncontrollable--it's just not that huge of a deal).  I have POTS.  And it makes me feel like shit when I'm having flareups.  Which I have been for weeks now.  And UGH.  But oh well.  I still gotta take care of old mother.  And even if she knew what was wrong with me, she would pretend to care for a moment and then just stop, because it wouldn't suit her anymore.  But it's not her business.  So I'm not telling her.  So there.  

I need to protect my privacy from her, as she is the queen of privacy invasion.  And so I don't share with her things that she doesn't need to know.  And this?  She doesn't need to know.  So I got her off the subject by gifting her a HUGE box of my old books from our basement haul.  And now she's happier than a clam in the ocean living that #sealife.  So I did good today.  I finally got a diagnosis.  I made mother happy (like it's a huge box of Jodi Picoult books as well as a couple others).  I got to hang out with my hubby.  I felt better today than I have all week.  AND I got some writing done, which I haven't been able to do all week due to my POTS flareup (and my arthritis in my neck).   And I got a bunch of shit from the basement into the car before Ma stole it all back (almost didn't though, that was close).  She didn't even know the towels were hers.  Which makes me sad.  But it also makes my job easier, too.  Which sounds horrible, I know.  But you have to take the good with the bad.  

I am just stoked I got a lot of writing done, today.  I've finished three memoirs this past year.  And now I am working on two other self-help books for adult children of narcissistic parents, which are halfway done.  I am on a roll!  Whoo hoo!  So yeah, strange day, painful day (my arthritis causes pinched nerves in my neck and head and shoulders), but also a good day.  

Time to finish a class I'm taking.  Goodnight (it's like 11:15 pm LOL).