Just sitting here on my bed, with my window open at the end of February.  It's fifty degrees today and will be all week.  What a nice way to start the almost springtime.  There's still snow on the ground, but it's mostly melted, and all will be melted by the end of the week.  But then it'll probably snow again next week, just as it did a few days ago, too.  The north is crazy with its weather.  But it always is.  

Yesterday, mother decided to get all hopped up on warmer weather and make a joke to my son that she wants me to buy her a dust pan to scoop dog poop into, because that's what she does outside.  I don't like it, our yard is hilly and is not meant for her to be walking around in.  But she's super rude about the chores she thinks I should be doing, compared to the chores that actually need to get done.  Like, I used to tell her not to clean my bathroom.  But one day I found her on the floor on her side, scrubbing my bathroom floor behind the toilet.  And she was using bleach cleaner, something I am very sensitive two.  I had no idea where she even got the cleaner, as I don't let her buy any.  So, I yelled at her and made her leave the room.  She was screaming the entire time that the floor was FILTHY (even though I just cleaned it) and it needed to be done.  Never mind she had diarrhea that week and got some on the wall in her bathroom and still hadn't cleaned it up.  That's how she is.  She looks at what everyone else should be doing in her mind, and she won't even give a second thought to what she actually needs to be doing.  

I took one evening last fall and cleaned all the fronts of the cabinets in the kitchen.  The next day she literally was mad that I did it when she was going to do it.  No "Wow, that looks nice!" or "thank you", just her being mad that I did something worthy, when she's the only person allowed to do something worthy.  Recently she was mad because she wanted thick scrubbies to clean all these things that didn't need cleaning, YET the fronts of the cabinets need to be cleaned again, as does the floor.  She ignores all the stuff that actually needs to be done, just for her imagined ideas of what's worthy to her in the moment.  Yet, I clean the mirrors every day, I clean the sinks, I clean the floors, the front of the fridge, etc.  But she will hone in on one thing that isn't done and act like I do nothing at all, and she does everything, even though she only cleans once a month, if even that.  

She, she wanted me to buy her a dust pan.  And she joked with my son that if I didn't buy her one, she'd use the kitchen one.  So I came out of my room and she said "Did you hear what I said to your son?"  I said "No."  So she proceeds to say in a super demanding and shitty voice "You WILL buy me a dust pan or so help me god, I will use the kitchen one!!"  I was taken aback.  I said "That's not a nice way to ask for something.  Wow.  And you will not use the kitchen one for dog shit."  She said "WELL!  I used to have one, but I don't know where it is."  I said "Your job is not to clean up MY dog's poop.  It will get done with the pooper scooper that I bought for that job."  She said "I can't use the pooper scooper!"  I said "Yes, well, you don't have to do it."  She said "It's not like YOU do it!  I couldn't even walk out there last summer!"  The thing is, I clean the dog poop up where she's allowed to walk, and leave it on purpose where it's too hilly or holey for her to walk.  Her physical therapist said she wasn't allowed to walk out there at all.  But she won't listen, so I make it safer for her by allowing her to walk where it's more flat.  But she's like a fucking cat who is not allowed to go into a certain room, and all she wants to do is go in that room.  So we do clean it up, just in very purposeful ways.  

So I took the dust pan in the kitchen and chucked it in the basement.  That's what I do when she threatens me.  I take away whatever she threatens me with.  About a year ago she told me "I'm going to sell all my norcos when I am done with them!!"  So I took them away from her.  Because I'm not having a drug dealing old bat live in my house.  She even told me that one time she sold some of her dead husband's leftover morphine to the neighbor, who OD'ed and died on the same kinds of meds later (not that much later--I really wonder if what my mother sold her killed her?).  I looked disgusted at her and said "Are you proud of helping her kill herself with drugs?  How fucking gross is that?  You should never tell anyone that ever again!  You should be ashamed of yourself!"  Sometimes my mother thinks she sounds like a bad ass, but in reality, she just sounds like an unfeeling sociopath.  Oh wait, that's what she is!  

So I was surprised by her mood change from cracking jokes with my son to threatening me, as though she has any power over me.  Too funny.  

When she cleans up dog poop, she puts it in my containers that I want.  Like, in my planters or other things I am using.  It's disgusting.  So she's not allowed to clean up dog poop anymore.  I wish she didn't clean our dishes, because I have to rewash them almost every single day.  But it gives her something to do.  So I let her.  At one point when we first moved in, I asked her to stop because the dishes were so horribly dirty, like she was putting them away without washing them.  But she started up again, as though we never asked her to stop.  And rather than fight her on it, I just let her do them.  But of course, she tells people "Nobody else in the house will do them so I have to!"  Which is so beyond irritating.  

Not to mention, she can't even go out and clean it up anyways, because of the snow and mud and mushy ground and hills in our backyard.  So why is she even on about this right now?  But that's how she is.  She gets a stupid idea in her head and she has to blurt it out, even if it doesn't make sense to do so.  

Now today, she's asking me for the dust pan.  "I need to sweep my room, and I know you don't want me using the dust pan, so we need to figure something out."  Sigh.  I never said she can't use it, I said she can't use it for dog poop.  She makes me want to pull all my hair out sometimes.  So I was going to go vacuum her room, but she did something herself and came by my room yelling "I don't need it anymore!"  Well, there ya go.  

And another thing she's been doing again is knocking on my fucking door and reminding me to make her dinner, every single freaking day.  Which is something she used to do.  So yesterday I said "I make dinner for your EVERY SINGLE DAY at the same time, you DO NOT need to remind me."  She said "Well, I can't eat and go striaght to bed!"  This isn't dementia, it's her being a bitch, because this is what she always does.  ONE FREAKING DAY I made dinner at 7 pm and since then she's been at my door reminding me to make her food ever since.  That's how she is.  You can do the right thing for years on end, then one day mess up, and she will act like you mess up every single day.  It's soooooo fucking annoying.  I do know there is a term for that, for this part of narcissism, where they can't use common sense when it comes to someone making a single mistake and then acting like they always make that mistake.  But I can't find it.  It was one of those things I read online and didn't save it and now I have no idea if I'll ever find it again.  Ugh.  Anyways, I am going to go back to frozen meals for her because I can't tolerate this annoyance again.  And that will fix it, as it will take me only seconds to get her dinner together.

But rather than concentrate on her stupid behavior (even though I am in this moment), I've been cleaning, and writing, and creating my stuff for my Etsy shop.  I want to predominately make time for my own life, and not always be worrying about her and what she's going to do next.  Because, who cares?  She's always going to act up, because she's a jerky little girl in old lady's saggy skin who throws fits for no reason.  That's who she is, and who she always will be.  And I don't have to spend worrying about her bullshit.  I do enough for her as is.  She can't suck up the time I have when I am not around her, too.  

So, I'm going to go finish cleaning my room, and work more on my Etsy shop products, and most likely wash all our laundry (mine and Mr. Brooks').  But we'll see.  Oh, and make Mrs. Potato Head her dinner.  Because god forbid, if I am not in the kitchen at 4:30 pm, she'll be at my door again.  Sigh.  

Okay, I have an hour, time to get my own stuff done.  

Babies look to their mothers as a way to decide what is safe in this world and what isn't.  Our mother's facial expressions, the tone of their voice, their willingness to hold us and love us.  Without it, what do we become?  

How I must have ached for her.  For all of them.  How I must have rolled around in my crib all alone and wondered where those people who raised me went.  It wasn't just my mother; it was my aunt, my uncle, and my grandmother, too.  I was ripped from their house at six months old and abandoned to strangers.  How I must have wondered where all those warm bodies and loving hugs went.  Maybe my mother didn't have those things for me, but my aunt did, as did my grandmother.  I wonder if a six-month-old baby is capable of thinking they did something wrong to cause something like that?  I wouldn't assume they could, but then again, we don't exactly how and what babies think of at that age.  I know we may not think in words yet, though maybe we do somewhat.  But what I can assume is that we do think in feelings.  And how abandoned and lonely I must have felt.  Only to be given to a set of strangers who soon after gave me to another set of strangers, who then soon after that also gave me to yet another set of strangers, like a conveyor belt for unwanted children.  All before I was two years old.  What I must have thought of myself back then.  What I must have thought of the world.  How really nobody on this earth even wanted me.  It's very odd that I didn't develop attachment issues as a child.  Or, if I did, that they didn't carry over into the rest of my life.  Or maybe they did?  I got a book on attachment theory to review, so once I read that, maybe I'll figure something out.

Can you do me a favor?  If you, or someone you know, doesn't want to be a mom, can you give up your babies at birth, please?  Do not try to raise them and then abandon them or give them away later in life.  Just cut it off at the pass.  If you are not ready to be a parent, then don't even try.  And don't feel guilty about it.  Because babies do not remember that.  But older ones do.  Ones who have had time to get to know you first.  You do way more harm than good that way.  It's so much better off to not wreck your kids' life and emotional state by letting them get used to your shitty parenting in the first place and then hving them missing it when you're gone.  

I wish all mothers were like me.  Sure, I wasn't a perfect mom, nor am I still.  I made a slew of mistakes, and will probably make a ton more.  But I love the ever-loving shit out of my kids.  They never had to grow up without a mother who didn't love them.  They never had to experience a mother who chose a man over them.  Or chose to party instead of putting them to bed.  Or chose to anything of the sort instead of being a parent.  My love for my children is as wide and endless as the sky and there is nothing that would ever make that go away.  Too many mothers' loves are conditional.  Too many women out there having babies who have no right to be having them and no right to call themselves mothers.  The ones like me, the ones who actually love their kids and want the best for them in life, even if that best is being 100% the opposite of me, we are rarer.  But we are the actual mothers of the world.  Not all these jerks who call themselves a word that doesn't belong to them.  Damn hijackers.

Mine fought my grandmother (who happens to be a flaming narcissist) about custody of me, as she didn't want my grandmother to raise me (and ended up winning, then promptly abandoned me to strangers--almost on the same day).  But today refuses to believe her mother is "that bad".  I don't get it.  Because of my grandmother's bad behavior as mother to my mother, I was given to people who abused me.  And somehow, her mother is "not that bad"--codependent much?  Also, my mother refuses to own responsibility for what happened to me after she abandoned me.  Possibly out of guilt.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But she refuses to even acknowledge my abuse, and never asks me about it.  If that were me, I'd be wracked with guilt and would beg my child to forgive me.  Not that I think she should, but she should at least admit to me how horrible it makes her feel to know that's what my fate was.  But she barely even acknowledges my existence as it is.  So, what else would I expect?  

A birthmother is a woman who wants her child but cannot raise it herself.  My mother was a woman who abandoned me at six months old.  What kind of name describes that?  A progenitor?  A jerk?  She ripped me away from people who loved me and from people who I loved, the only people I even knew.  My aunt even tried to commit suicide over it.  She was only sixteen.  My aunt, that is.  My progenitor was twenty, the same age I was when I first became a mother (funny, my sister's mother was also twenty, as was my brother's--my sperm donor father really loved him some twenty-year-olds, and he was thirty! fucking pervert).  And all she was thinking about was her anger towards her mother (who threw her out of the house, but told her to leave me there).  So instead, she got rid of me, because if she couldn't have me, then nobody in her family would.  And not only that, nobody in her family would ever see me again.  How could they forgive her for that?  And how could she forgive her mother for throwing her out and causing all of that?  Or for her mother having her take me home in the first place? 

Now, I am in my forties.  I know better than to just say some black and white story of how things went down.  I get there is more to the story that I will never know.  I do have plans to go to the court system and retrieve my files from the court case (yes, they fought in court) so I will have a little more to go on.  But at the same time, I cannot see into their heads.  I don't know how either one felt.  But I don't care.  It was selfish to keep me.  And it was selfish to rip me away from my family and abandon me at six months old just to spite her mother.  I do not regret it one bit, as I have my family that I adore today (meaning my kids and my husband), but that doesn't let her off.  Just because something good came out of something horrible, it doesn't mean that the horrible thing was justified.  We can be grateful for how things turn out in life without being grateful for why they came about in the first place.  My progenitor has a penchant for saying shit like that to me.  Tell me some fake-ass bullshit toxic platitude about "Well everything turned out, so you're okay!"  The fuck I am.  But one day I will be.  No thanks to her.  

I am so tired of being angry at these horrible women who fucked up my life.  My mother.  My progenitor.  My grandmother.  I want to say fuck them all, but the sad part is, most of the world is like them.  Even though TV shows and Hallmark movies would have you believe that most mothers love their children, I that's just not true.  I think most women who give birth see us as objects because they just aren't humans.  They are some alien species incapable of human emotion.  Or, like I said before, they're just potatoes.   Just some things with skin filled with starch.  I think most of the world is made up of these potatoes and us humans are few and far between.  Which makes me sad.  And makes me worrisome for humanity's future.  

We humans need to stick together.  I wanted to create a space just for us actual humans, but I am scared it will attract potatoes and I will have to kick all the potatoes out.  And who wants that drama?  Not me.  As I am just so very tired of it.  I am so tired of making friends, realizing they're narcissists, and then "breaking up" with them.  Over and over again, rinse, lather, repeat.  My humble beginnings as an unwanted baby (which I actually was, she never wanted me and only took me home because her mother told her to--she actually told me this) and now as an adult who's dealing with the choices all these idiots made for me as a baby, it just doesn't do much for my trust in humanity.  I used to trust.  Too much.  But then I learned what narcissism looks like and now I see it everywhere.  I haven't met a single family yet who doesn't have it in their family tree.  And that's why I'm scared to reach out to others.  I just don't trust them.  I am so freaking tired of that game.  I'd rather just write my words, make my art, read my books, watch my Netflix, and take naps.  Oh, and spend time with my kickass husband and kids.  And whatever else I like to do.  Rather than worry about all the crazy potatoes out there.  I am honestly all potatoed out (yesterday I baked 10lbs of potatoes to make double-stuffed potato skins to freeze, so I am really all potatoed out).  

My progenitor still calls me her daughter.  It's sick.  She's met me a few times in person, and once we stayed with her for about a week many, many years ago while on vacation (it started out nice, but got old really quickly--she started getting super crabby).  But mostly, she has zero contact with me (she even forgot my 40th birthday, who does that?) and yet she feels she has the right to tell others that she's a mother.  That she's my mother.  And she's just not.  Not in one single minuscule way.  Giving birth means you're a baby machine.  It's what you do with that child after it's born that makes you an actual mother.  And literally abandoning it when it's a half a year old?  So not a motherly thing to do (not only that, when she had custody of me, she really didn't want me and would let me cry and cry and cry until someone else came and took care of me).  I am such a better mother than both of these women (my mother and my progenitor) combined.  And that's something to be proud of.  But at the same time, I wish I had more time to myself at times to process all this shit.  I wish I had a circle of other women and men who's goal was to heal from their mother and father wounds.  That's what I want to create.  And I think I still will try to do this.  Because I do feel that it would be beneficial.  And I believe I've finally found a way to make a group work, but only in person.  No more online groups.  Online groups are easier to manage and attend, but in person is where healing truly takes place.  But only if I can weed out those damn potatoes first.

Well, I finally did it.  I stood up to her about how she treats my son.  And I was wrong about not being punished about telling her to stay out of my room.  Well, she didn't punish me, she punished my dog, who got stuck in my room and kept on scratching at my door and freaking out and she refused to let him out because she's not allowed to go in my room.  

What a fucking baby.  

Anyways, today she screamed at my son (who's turning 24 this week) for walking over while she's doing the dishes and rising out his water jug.  He got defensive and said "It's just water, Grandma, so it's okay."  And she continued to lay into him and get exasperated with him.  So I was in the living room and yelled "You know, could you stop bitching at him for once?  If it were anyone else coming over there to do that you wouldn't say a word.  You're only angry because it's him!"  She ignored me so I repeated myself, but the second time I didn't use the word "bitching".  So I know she heard me the first time, because she referenced the fact I said it.  

She said "What did I do now?  I am always getting bitched out for something!!"  

I said "What?  When I do bitch you out?  I never yell at you.  Ever.  Even when I should.  Just because I ask you to stop doing something or remind you to do something when you forget, that doesn't mean I am yelling at you or bitching you out.  Don't be silly.  And I am just asking you to be nicer to my son.  You're always yelling at him every single day or telling him what to do or being mean to him.  I'm just asking you to be nicer to him." 

"Am I mean to you?  Am I?  Do I bitch at you all the time?" she starts asking my son her angry yet exasperated voice.  

Who replied "Ha ha, um....." *nervous laughter*

So I said "Stop asking him that.  Just be nice."  

She replies "I guess I should just start looking at homes.  It would be better than this."  

So I said in a funny a cheerful voice "Are you teasing us right now?  Because it sounds like you're totally teasing us." (meaning she too bad she wasn't serious, because I'd love for her to be in a home)  Funny, she doesn't realize there is only one home she can go into, and that's the state run home in our town.  I know this because I've done my research.  So there is no need to look at homes, ma, we already know which one you're going into!  Too bad they'll take the house away if you do (and she knows this--so this was her threat to leave us homeless).

So she's angry she can't go into my room and will punish my dog (or whatever cat is stuck in there) just to prove her shitty little point.  And she's angry because I am taking away her only scapegoat.  And I tell ya, guys, her behavior towards him is getting worse and worse.  And if she bitches at him again, I will point it out again.  And again.  And again.  Until she fucking stops.  

See, I took away her favorites scapegoat: me.  But my son has also been her scapegoat since he's been about eight.  My second son was born and he became her favorite, leaving my oldest to rot without a grandparent to love him.  Not a single one (my ex-inlaws are/were both narcissists who hated both my kids and my current inlaws are both narcissists who hate both kids).  My mother was the only one they had in their life regularly and she only hates my oldest.  My poor oldest son has never had a single adult, other than me and my husband (who adopted them in 2011) who had loved him, purely and unconditionally.  And I'll be damned if I am going to sit here and let her treat him like shit just because she's bored or just feeling like being an asshole.  

And neither of my kids got angry with me, as they could both see how mean she was being to him.  What kind of mother am I if I just let her do that shit to my kid?  Even though he's an adult, it doesn't matter.  Enough is enough.  

I feel pretty good about it, too.  Now the foundation has been set and she will be kept in line from now on.  Otherwise, if she wants to imagine that I keep "bitching her out"?  Then I will show her what that looks like.  

Oh, and she had a bunch of excuses as to why she yelled at him today, including a slew of lies.  But my point isn't to yell at her and call her out on her lies (since she is ALWAYS lying), my point here is to protect my son.  She made it all about me and how I am mean to her (which I am not), but I just kept turning it back to her behavior towards him.  And boy, did that make her angry.  

I guess The 'ol Seahag doesn't like being called out on her shit.  But mostly, she saw her teeny tiny last bit of narcissistic supply being taken away from her.  So just now, she turned her rage onto her cat.  I haven't heard her swear that much in a long time.  Like F-bombs and shit.  I guess the cat did something she didn't like.  So, now I have to watch her she doesn't physically hurt any of them.  If she does, I will have to find many of these cats new homes.  Which sucks, because they are all old.  But my mission in life is to protect those who cannot protect themselves (because nobody protected me as a kid) and that includes the pets that live in my home.  Even if I love them.  Though, I do wish I could find my mother a new home instead.  As that would make more sense and make more people happy.  

Anyways, she's pissy now.  Oh well.  Now she can be equally pissy to everyone, instead of singling out my oldest son.  That is acceptable to me.  But you know from my writings, eventually she'll revert right back to treating him like shit again and this time, I will be ready and waiting to pounce all over that shit the moment it happens.  

In the meantime, here is a list of the many ways she's treated my son like shit (including the every single day of her tedious bitching at him over everything he does): 

• Every time he cooks, she stands over him and bitches he's doing it wrong.  "You're going to burn it!"  "Ish, you like that stuff?  Yuck!"  "Well, that's not going to work."  "That smells weird.  Are you paying attention to it?"  She used to do the same thing to me.   But she quit after I got angry enough with her.  This is especially noticeable when he makes steak (he copies Gordon Ramsey's steak making techniques--and my mother slaps meat on the pan and cooks it until it's tough).  She is at her absolute worst with him anymore when he cooks steak.  So guess what?  He doesn't cook steak anymore.  Not when she's around.  She is ruthless!  She will literally stand in the kitchen and SCREAM her head off about how he's ruining them.  The first time, I looked at her and said "The only steak I have ever liked in my entire life is his steak."  "You used to eat mine!"  "I did not!  Your steak is gross and overcooked and just basic and boring.  He makes a butter sauce that he fries it in and seasons it and cooks it to perfection.  Yours are nasty.  Even Daddy hated them."  Oh she did not like that one bit.  But if you're going to be a bitch to my son?  Don't be surprised when I tell you the truth you never wanted to know.  After the second time she did this, he just stopped making steak.  
• On the other hand, everything my youngest son makes is AMAZING AND AWESOME AND ONE DAY HE SHOULD GO TO CULINARY SCHOOL!!!! OH EM GEE!  The thing is, they both cook amazingly well.  My youngest bakes and my oldest cooks.  They both bake and cook, but their expertise is in those things.  
• In 2013, after I found out my mother had NPD after a huge blowup (go back to the beginning of this blog, I wrote all about it), I went to two women: Christmas and Valentine's, my mother's BFFs and told them the truth about what was going on behind their backs for years.  How I grew up thinking that Christmas was mentally disabled (or as my mother put it "DEERRRRRR!" with her tongue hanging out of her mouth and making "disabled hands") and that was something that never stopped, even until that day.  And I told Valentines all about the shit my mother said about her.  Back then, me, Christmas, Valentines, and the other one (I can't remember the name I gave her) were Ye Olde Seahag's scapegoats.  She would put us through the cycle of idealization, devaluation, and discarding, over and over and over again.  And she would talk shit about whichever one was on her discard list to the others, who were on her idealization list at the time.  She'd rotate us.  It was plentiful time for her.  Plentiful in narcissistic supply.  But my oldest son came with me to talk to Valentines, because I could just not sit around and not tell them the truth, as it was a horrible feeling to know what was being said about them on a daily basis and then have these jokers not realize it at all.  Valentines believed me and got angry, but then realized my mother was her meal ticket, she turned on me and told her everything I said.  I should have realized that would happen.  But back then, I had no idea how narcissism really worked.  Anyways, Valentines didn't just turn on me, she lied to my mother and said my son called my mother names (like bitch, for one) and said a bunch of shit about her.  Which he didn't.  So my mother said to Christmas "I can forgive all of them, but I will never forgive him!", meaning my kid (if she thinks what my son supposedly said was bad, she should have heard what I actually said about her behind her back, ha!).  And that was in September or something.  Come Christmas (the holiday, not the person), she was still holding a grudge against him and bought my youngest $100 worth of toys, plus an expensive RC drone and got my oldest a $10 piece of shit RC car that was already broken.  He was sixteen years old.  So, I returned ALL of it (I told her the drone didn't work) with the receipts, got the money back, and split it between the two kids (my youngest didn't like his toys anyways, thank goodness).  Because fuck her.  She did the same thing to me and my husband: she bought me a $100 worth of gifts that year and gave him a $1 used sweater and a $1 box of chocolate covered cherries (which he hates).  I guess she didn't like her precious little golden child taking my side on things.
• Last night, when he came up for dinner, he took a serving of my baked tortellini and she said "DON'T TAKE IT ALL!"  Shaming him for taking what she thinks is too much food.  She didn't say "Because your brother didn't get any yet" or whatever, no, she said she could have seconds.  And she doesn't take seconds, ever (unless it's my lentil soup), so she was just food shaming him.  Up until less than a year ago, she was still food shaming me, which is why I refuse to get food in front of her for myself.  The other day, I was getting a bowl of cereal, and it was all I could to do keep getting it for myself, because I started having a panic attack as she was coming into the room.  And of course, she looked at my bowl full of cereal which I haven't poured the milk into yet and said "Oh, you're eating cereal, are you?"   This is partially why I feel like a prisoner in my bedroom, among many other reasons.  Anyways, she said to me when I came out "I told your son he didn't leave any for me to have seconds!"  I said "I didn't make this for anyone to have seconds, I made this for everyone to have a serving."  She laughed and said "Oh, I know, I was kidding."  But she wouldn't stop saying it.  And said it again when my son came back out (he was eating with me in my room).  So we know when Ye Olde Seahag starts in like that, she's covering up her nasty remark with jokes, so we don't notice she was being nasty.  It really hurt my son's feelings because she's always on him about eating food. 
• Back before I took over the household as "WOTH" (you can read about WOTH here), YOS (ye olde seahag) used to force us to eat dinner together, the five of us every single fucking night.  It was a horrible scene she was playing out from my childhood, when she used to force us all eat together back then, too, even though Dad was always wasted and I was always horribly anxious and didn't want to eat with them.  Living with her again and having to eat with her stirred up so many bad memories that I was literally retraumatized and stopped being able to eat for period of time.  It was horrible.  And during those idiotic family dinners (at a tiny table for two she forced all five of us to eat at) she would watch us like hawks.  "What's wrong, why aren't you eating?" she'd obsessively ask if we put our forks down for a moment.  But mostly, she would be on the kids with horrible comments like "Wow, you sure are packing that in!"  "Are you already done?  Good grief.  How can you eat that fast?"  And so forth.  Most of those comments were aimed at my oldest son.  Her main thing was that every single night she'd say "If I start before you guys, maybe I can beat you?" meaning how fast she'd clean her plate.  And that was back when if I said to her "Mom, that's rude!" my kids would get embarrassed and upset with me.  So, I had to sit there, and allow her to food shame my children and say nothing.  It was torture for us all (but not her).  She was still also food shaming me at that point, as well, which looking back at my entire life with her and her food shaming me, could be partially why I became anorexic in high school.
• If my son makes a project and uses the kitchen table to do so, she gets so angry with him.  She will make an exasperated sigh and say "Do you have to do that in here?  God dammit."  Even though she doesn't use the table for anything, other than eating (and I replaced the table with our HUGE table that seats eight people).  But if my youngest son were to be doing the same thing, she'd be interested in what he was making.  My oldest son, like myself pre-WOTH, can't do anything right in her eyes.  She used to say the same exact thing to me when I would work on projects out in the open.  So now I work on things in the basement and in my room only. 
• If my kids help make Christmas dinner with my mother, as they did in December of 2020, she will have HORRIBLE meltdowns and scream at my oldest about everything.  See, he's her scapegoat for her anger, her negativity, her pain.  Anything negative she's feeling, she takes it out on him.  And she's a HORRIBLE person to have cooking a holiday meal, as she's totally insane, and always has been when she cooks.  So in December of 2021, I said to her "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE HOLIDAY MEALS IN MY KITCHEN EVER AGAIN!"  Oh boy she was mad.  But at least it was mostly peaceful, as I cooked the meal didn't allow her near it.  
• When we lived upstairs from her from 2018 to 2020, she had a candy bowl she'd keep filled in her apartment.  Her candy bowl was part of her narcissistic supply.  She would fill it, and put it out where people who she'd know would take too much of it would see it.  And then complain they took too much of it.  Meaning my kids and her BFF Christmas.  Then she could bitch about them afterwards.  It was such a jolly game she'd play.  Before we moved in and we lived up the street from her, she'd put the candy bowl out only when my kids would come over, knowing they were trying to lose weight and were on diets.  I'd ask her "Hey, can we put this away when the kids are here?"  And she would refuse.  Just because she knew they'd have no willpower and eat it and she wanted them to ruin their diets and go back to eating junk food again.  Soon after, they stopped visiting her completely.  They knew how she was and knew it was on purpose.  
• She would bitch that the kids didn't visit her, but when they did, she'd bitch that they were there.  Eventually, they just stopped seeing her all together, other than on holidays.  By then, she had her posse and didn't care.  We lived a block away, and she didn't give two shits if she ever saw the kids.  But when I went no contact with her for fourteen months, she said "You know what killed me during that time?  Not seeing the kids!"  Bullshit.  She just wanted to play the victim and that was a great way to make her look like a doting and loving grandma.  Which she isn't one iota of.
• When my son got his first job when he was sixteen as a bagger at our local grocery store, and quit soon after, she made fun of him to her friends.  "Oh, he doesn't work there anymore, because he has anxiety!"  That last word was said in a sing-song voice that indicated she was making fun of him and demeaning him at the same time, the way she used to make fun of Christmas for being mentally disabled (she's not, by the way).  What kind of grandmother says that about her grandchild?  But then again, she always picked on me for my anxiety, too, so what did I expect?  She's a potato.  And a potato will always act like a potato.  Don't expect otherwise.
• Every single day, in some way or another, she gets on my son's case.  She complains at him, or yells at him, or says something demeaning or rude.  Which is why I said something today.  And will from this day forward.  

Today I bought my mother something she couldn't use.  So she went into my bedroom when I wasn't in there and placed them on my bed.  Not just at the end of my bed, but at the front where I sleep.  So, she had to walk through my entire room to get there, knowing damn well I wasn't in there.  And she left a note on the item, stating she couldn't use them and that she has different ones she could use instead.  

She found me later (I was in my son's room while this happened) and told me what happened.  "I was talking to you, but you weren't there!  So, I left the package on your bed."  I had no idea what she was talking about, so I asked "You mean from the mail?"  "No, the items you bought me.  I can't use those, they give me a rash.  So, I have some up on the computer that I can use."  I said "Oh, I'll return those then and buy more later."  I went into my room and saw the package on the bed near my pillow with a note stuck on it."  If she thought I was in my room, why was there a note?  And why did she think she could just walk into my room without being invited, even if I was in there?  

She's in her room with her door closed right now, but when she comes out I will inform her if she ever has something for me again, a package or otherwise, to put it on the kitchen counter and not my bed.  She will say something like "I guess I'm not allowed in your room, then."  And I will reply "No, you are not."  

Ever since 2020 when we moved in here, she's treated my bedroom as though it's a part of HER domain.  She's barged in even if the door is closed.  And I've made enough of a stink (and locked it enough times--though I didn't have a lock when we first moved in) about it for her to stop doing it.  Once in a while she will just open my bedroom door without knocking but very seldomly anymore.  But today really bothered me because it just cemented the idea that I am not allowed to have my door open.  

Last week, I was working on some art projects at the other end of my room and my door was open.  I NEVER have it open, for fear of her coming in.  But I had it open and she walked in that night to tell me something stupid.  And since I knew this was most likely going to happen, I was ready for it and jumped to my feet and body blocked her from walking all the way in.  She didn't like it, but she knows she's not allowed in my room.  

Or rather, she suspects.  

In fact, I never have actually said those words to her.  I have never said "Ma, you're not allowed in my room, and you're not allowed to open my door."  I have issues with confrontation, especially with her or anyone I do not feel comfortable with confronting.  So instead, I show people what I want rather than ask for it.  But here's the real issue with telling her outright: I do tell her things outright and she will do the exact opposite on purpose just to defy me.  So I don't think not telling her has made my issues with her any worse.  In fact, I think she would have pushed back harder against my requests had I actually told her outright to either not come into my room or open my door herself.  Or maybe it would have been the same, as she pushed back pretty hard in the beginning anyways.  But today?  That was a complete violation of my privacy.  Because who knows who long she was in my room for?  She used to snoop around in my stuff when she used to come in.  And since she did it this once, that means she will feel she can do it again.  And again.  And I will have to start locking my door again when I leave the house.  But I think I will anyways, just to be safe.

So I have to nip this in the bud right now.  I have to make it clear she is not to enter my room, period.  But especially when I am not there.  And if my door is open, it is NOT an invitation for her to just waltz in, for any reason, even if I am in there.  

I hate this, but I have to be clear about my boundaries because I am not about to just allow her to do stuff like this and think she can do it again later.  No way, no how.  

Ugh.  

UPDATE:  She came out to smoke before dinner.  Which she does every single night, even though I hate when she yaks as me while I am cooking (if someone talks to me while I am cooking, I either mix up ingredients, or cut myself or mess something up...so I have to be alone to cook, unless it's my husband who will sit in the room quietly and read or do whatever).  She knows this and does it every single night on purpose to show me I am not the boss of her now (and I'm not so big).  

So I said to her "Hey, next time you need to give me something put it on the counter in the kitchen."  She started laughing "Oh, you don't like it when I go into your room?"  I said "No, I do not.  There is too much for you to fall over in there."  (and there it is folks, me making excuses so I don't have to admit the truth).  She replies "Oh, I was careful."  I had had enough, so I said the truth.  "Well, I do not care how careful you are, next time, put it on the counter, thank you."  She got all huffy and said "You just don't want me in your room."  Here was my chance to say my truth.  Finally.  So I said "No.  I do not."  "Well, you go in my room!"  "Not really, only if I have to."  "Well, everyone else is allowed in your room!!"  I said "You are not my child.  Well, you kind of are.  But still."  "Well, everyone else is allowed in there any time they want" she started chanting over and over again, in her childlike pouty voice.  I said "Yup."  "Well, I guess mothers don't count for anything."  By this time my two kids were quiet as mouses in the living room, listening to me stand up for myself.  Which made me happy.  They were already angry with her for throwing away their expensive G-Fuel container without asking them (it still had some left in it).  I replied to her while laughing "Oh, you're my granny."  I almost said "Mother?  Some mother you are."  But I didn't.  But I think got my point across.  This is the second time I've said this to her after she's said she's the "momma" of the house.  I'm going to start calling her granny anyways, because she is really not my mother in any way shape or form.  I had planned on doing this for a while and now is the perfect time. 

So she went outside to smoke and the kids yelled from the other room and said "Oh mom, mothers don't count for anything!" while laughing.  Not where she could hear them, they are careful about that.  And then my oldest son (who will be 24 next week) said "If I asked you not to come into my room, you wouldn't.  Ever.  You respect my privacy and my wishes.  Why can't she?"  But he already knows why.  But it felt good to have them on my side, because in the past they haven't been.  Not because they disagree with me (though sometimes they do), but because it embarrassed them and made them uncomfortable to have me stand up to her.  But now they get it.  

And now she's angry with me.  

Oh fucking well.  I was polite about it all and said my peace and now I will be punished.  And that's okay.  There's not much she can do to punish me anymore.  But she'll try.  It will crack me up if she tries that whole bit about "This is MY house!" and I will say a) this is MY room and b) what part about the house buying process did you participate in and what part of its upkeep do you participate in?  If she wants to play the "ownership" game with me, I will make her realize she's entirely useless.  Not in a cruel or mean way, but she literally has NOTHING to use against me anymore.  Not a damn thing.  She doesn't cook.  She doesn't clean.  She doesn't drive.  She doesn't do laundry.  She doesn't plan meals.  She doesn't fix stuff around the house (but she never did--not even when I was a kid).  She doesn't drive or do the grocery shopping.  She doesn't keep on top of or pay the bills.  She doesn't make the doctor's appointments.  She doesn't do anything.  Which is 100% fine, because she's old and sick and demented.  I do all of those things and then some.  But once in a while she pulls that "Well, this is MY house!" card in order to use something against me when she doesn't like my rules (and my rules are not crazy--it's like "don't go for walks by yourself" "don't go in the basement"--per her physical therapist's orders, etc.).  She has nothing else to threaten me with.  And the funny part is a) I am her medical and durable power of attorney, so she's not in charge of shit and b) if I did leave, she'd be in a home.  So, like I said, she has nothing to threaten me with anymore.  

If she does, I will instead just laugh and say "Normal parents do not threaten their children."  Because they don't.  Not their adult children, anyways.  And not for no goddamn reason, like she does.  

But whatever.  She now knows she's not allowed in here and that's that.  Until next time my door is open and she walks right in LOL  Cause y'all know that's gonna happen.  

UDATE UPDATE:  So apparently, she's back to who she was when I was a kid and has totally forgotten about it.  See, she doesn't have any power anymore, so she just pretends like nothing happened.  She used to hold grudges with me, back when she had power over me.  Now that I hold the power she just pretends like everything is fine when I make her mad.  She's been doing this for a while now, too.  So I guess I won't be punished.  It's so hard not to expect it anymore though.  I mean, it was less than a year ago she was still being cruel to me.  She's still cruel to my son, but only when I am not around.  But maybe if he hears me stick up for myself he'll do the same?  Tomorrow I will bring up the G-Fuel issue.  I can't even find it in the garbage to see if there's still powder in it.  I have no idea what she's done with it.  Sigh.  

Recently we all got the stomach flu (minus Mr. Brooks), and I still have no idea how it happened.  Ever since life has been strange.  I have severe anxiety, so ever since I was sick, my anxiety has been out of control.  Then I found out I've been having esophageal spasms, something my mother gets and are horribly painful for her (she's on meds for it).  For me, I have realized, it only happens when I eat something horribly hot, which makes it hard for me to swallow and scares the crap out of me, and on Friday I was eating horribly hot pizza.  And because of the spasm, I pulled a muscle on the inside of my body in my chest, which has been giving me horrible anxiety for several more days because of the pain.  Today, I finally feel better, even though I still have pain.  My body is so freaking annoying sometimes.  But exercise and keeping busy has gotten me through it.  Because if I sit and dwell in it, it just gets worse.

On the mother front, yesterday she came to my door and asked if she could eat her leftover soup for dinner and I said go for it.  I felt like trash so I was happy I didn't have to cook.  But then, of course, she asked me "Can you make a grilled cheese?"  I said "I can't, I feel really sick."  She said "What?"  So I said louder "I can't...I feel really sick!"  She said "WHAT?"  So I yelled it "I CAN'T, I FEEL REALLY SICK!!!"  I know she can hear me.  She could hear all the other stuff I said.  So she made herself one.  God knows what she put in it.

Then today, she said "I know you're out of practice, but what can I cook myself for dinner?"  I just laughed and said "You're funny."  She was trying to get my goat about not cooking for her for two days (she had her leftovers the night before that she warmed up on her own--something she makes a HUGE deal over whenever she has to do it herself).  But tonight I made bacon & spinach mac and cheese (homemade) and she came into the room and said "Oh, that smells so good!  Last night when I made my own grilled cheese, it didn't smell that good!"  Again, trying to point out I didn't cook for her.   I just ignore her when I cook because if I pay attention to her blabbering (and OH does she blabber on) I will cut myself, and for a moment I let my mind wander to her annoying me and BAM! I cut my damn thumb.  Sigh.  

She also let her cats out while I was cooking.  Something I ask her to NOT do, especially since I just asked her a few days ago not to and she did anyways (they are insatiable for human food) and she did it again tonight.  Both nights I said "You know I don't like them being out when I am cooking" and both nights she replied "I know!" and didn't remove them, making me have to wrangle them up and put them back in her room.  Sigh.  Next time I will say "So up them back into your room." 

Today she also informed me she DOES NOT HAVE DIABETES!  I said "Oh, so the meds you're on don't mean anything?"  And she says "That's what scares me!  I am on all these meds and I don't need them!"  I said "That's like when you told me you don't need your blood pressure meds because your BP is so good so you need to get off your meds."  She said "EXACTLY!!"  I said "Ma, without your BP meds, your BP would be through the roof.  And without your TWICE DAILY diabetes meds, your blood sugar would be through the roof!  You were diagnosed with both diabetes and high blood pressure."  Her reply was "Oh, and you believe those things, do you?" I laughed nervously and said "Well now we really know you actually have dementia because sometimes when you talk to me, you make zero sense.  Like right now."  She said "I am as healthy as a horse!"  I said " A dead horse."  She laughed.  And that was the end of that.  

Um.  Okay.  

She goes to see her doctor on Wednesday and I'm going to check her computer and see what she's been searching, because she's the type of person to lookup all sorts of crap and believe every little thing she reads and will fight me on stuff.  She never wins, but still.  I need to know what she's been up to and if she's planning on harming her physical health because of stuff she reads (I dole out her meds, but I do not know if she takes them--though I really do know she does as she had no idea what pill is what).  Also, I recently caught her getting on FB and cyberstalking people so I am going to block Facebook from her browser, because she's trying to contact people she is not allowed to contact (like her dead husband's Goose's daughter, who went with her mother--Goose's ex, whom he hates, to pretend to be my mother when accepting a plaque for Goose who died from Agent Orange--my mother just stood by the sidelines and freaked the fuck out--yet now my crazy ass mother wants to contact her again, for what reason).  I hate hate hate managing another human being like this as I shouldn't have to.  But dementia can make you do crazy shit.  As will narcissism.  Add those two together and BAM!  You got severe insanity.  (But more on this later after I do it.)

And I do everything I can in order to stave off the crazy before it starts.  

So she's asking for money again.  Which is okay.  I buy her everything she needs.  But today she was having a fit about getting the "really tough scrubbies", which I do not buy.  Not because I don't want to pay for them, but because I am turning my house into as much zero waste as possible.  I have been doing this slowly for the last year and today I washed a huge amount of cloth napkins to replace my mother's napkin obsession (she really is addicted to buying napkins).  I only buy super cheap scrubbies from the dollar store because they disintegrate, which is a good thing, if you're going to buy any in the first place.  And they work perfectly fine for me.  My mother states she simply "cannot wash the dishes properly!" with them.  Which is total bullshit as she cannot wash dishes properly PERIOD, even with the expensive scrubbies.  Today she also had a meltdown about the broiler drawer and how she needs a super scrubbie to wash it because it's "all black!".  So I took a paper towel, got it wet and wiped the "blackness" off and BAM.  That's all it needed.  She saw that I did it and said "When I tell you these things it's because I WANT TO CLEAN IT!  NOT YOU!"  I said "I used a paper towel to clean it.  That's all it needed.  You could have easily done that yourself."   She just glared at me and said "Well, you didn't clean the inside of it."  I said we don't even use the broiler, but if she wants to clean it, have at it, as it's just dusty.  She got all pissy about that, but oh well.  I proved she's a liar (as usual) and only wanted to bitch about me not buying something for her.  She even tried to get my husband to take her to the store to get some LOL  I don't know why she thinks he's on her side, as he's never once shown that he is.  He even threatened her once.  

She was being HORRIBLE one day in 2020 (right after her surgery) and started to threaten to sell the house out from under us just to be controlling and an asshole, and he flipped out on her, stating that if she ever threatened that again we'd leave and throw her ass into a home so fast that she wouldn't even realize it had happened.  There is only so much bullshit Mr. Brooks can take and while it will take a long time to get there, once he's there, there is no question as to what he's feeling.  And I am surprised that my mother still likes him after that.  But he's her golden child, so she promptly forgot about it.  

Not me, I get punished every single day if I do one single thing she doesn't like (which is usually telling her to stop doing or saying something that's really bothersome, like when she screams for no reason).  

But I've already said that a thousand times.  

So, today (it is now Wednesday), I put a blocker on her browser to block her from going to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest (as well as the DMV--that way she can't re-up her driver's license without me knowing about it, something I will not permit her to do).  And my son thinks I am being literally crazy for doing so.  Like, mental crazy.  But she uses social media (not very much, but sometimes) to stalk people and then to get obsessed with either talking to them again or talking about them to gossip to everyone she knows.  Now, I get it.  We all do that sometimes; we look up people on social media to see what they're up to.  But if you had a crazy person in your life that you got rid of (a narcissist), would you want them cyberstalking you on social media?  Would you want them knowing what you're up to?  I mean, we all live in our little bubbles, thinking that just because we don't hear from said crazy person that they aren't bothering with us.  But behind closed doors (and behind the wall of social media), they see us.  They even make fake accounts just so they can see us, so blocking them doesn't usually work.  And wouldn't it be nice if someone in their lives knew exactly what type of person they really are and did something to help us all out?  Like, for one, blocking their access to social media in the first place?  I like to think I am doing a service to humanity by doing so.  You're all welcome.  Just kidding, you probably do not know me and would not be affected by my mother stalking you.  But just in case...you're welcome anyways.

Now, if my mother were younger or didn't have dementia (or had a higher IQ), she'd figure out what I did or use a different browser.  But my mother isn't young and has dementia and has a very low IQ.  So I can do these things without her knowledge.  My son thinks that sounds crazy and controlling and sneaky.  And I will say yes, it's all of two of those things, but it's not crazy.  I am being controlling and sneaky, but that's not necessarily wrong.  I am controlling because I have to be.  I am protecting my family from her with the controlling things I do.  If I didn't have to control every aspect of her life, I'd feel so much better.  But if I don't, then she does crazy things and hurts us.  Like, if I didn't listen to her phone calls with her BFF Christmas, I would have never known she was lying about me behind my back to her, stating I was holding her hostage and not even letting her go for walks or even go outside in the yard (all of which was not true, she was just being an asshole).  And I found out that Christmas almost called the police for elder abuse!!  How can I protect my family if I don't know what she's doing?  I hate it.  I hate every single second of my time being spent on her insanity.  But if I do not check her emails periodically, or control what mail comes into the house (or what mail leaves the house), or put a freaking site blocker on her browser, then I cannot know how she's trying to hurt us.  And she's always trying to hurt us.  

My son can't see that, but eventually he will.  These types of things I talk to him about many times until he understands.  He doesn't understand if I didn't have to live this way, I wouldn't.  But she lives in our house, so what can I do?  I can't let her just go wild and do whatever she likes.  I control the finances, the bill payments, the doctor's appointments, the everything, because I have to.  If I didn't, then nobody would be safe.  And I am so tired of not feeling safe because of her.  I'm forty-four, and I lived for around forty-three years feeling unsafe with her.  When I finally took my power back (which also meant taking ALL the power--only because my mother has two settings: all or nothing--she doesn't share power in the least, so if I give her a little, she will try to take it all) in 2020, it finally started to settle down.  And while it's still crazy sometimes, it's sure a HELLUVA lot better than it was.  And all because I am being controlling as hell.  

I long for the day when I can relax and not have one thought about what the hell she's up to, because I will not care.  When she's in a home, I will not care who she gossips to about me.  I will not give two shits if she's cyberstalking people (just kidding, I will make sure her computer doesn't let her on Facebook either, if she even has her own computer).   I will give a flying fuck or a flying squirrel or anything else that's flying about what she buys or anything else for that matter.  I will only deal with her when I have to or want to and when I don't, I won't.  I will be able to have my bedroom door open (I had it open the other day just like in the past, she walked right in) and be able to go brush my teeth without having to wait until she leaves the kitchen (I have to walk past her to get there--I only wait because if I don't, she will ask me for a hundred favors before I even get to the bathroom).  I will be able to listen to LOUD music again.  I will be able to put my stuff where I want it in the house without fearing some idiot will move it to where she wants it.  I will be able to do whatever the hell I like, whenever I like to.  AND I'll be able to leave my room without being worried she'll catch me and scream or ask me for something a thousand times.  I won't feel like a prisoner anymore.  Until then, I just blog and make art and write my memoirs and read good books and sew and watch Netflix (and all other streaming services--all of which I actually use) all from the privacy of my room or the basement (I can't fit my sewing machine in my room).  And it's okay.  I am getting stuff done for once in my life.  And I am not spreading my creative messes all throughout the house.  I am learning to be more organized, because I have to be, as I don't have the space to be messy (though it can still get messy when you have as many hobbies as I have).  Soon, my kids and I will start weight training and I'll start dancing again (I have dance DVD's I can't wait to start using--in my basement, of course) and it will get even better because I will feel better physically, too.  

Anyways, while I live with a crazy person that I have to manage, I can try to make the best of it.  Because our future is up in the air right now.  I can't 100% count on anything, but then again, who can?  So until that all happens (moving and putting her in a home), I will do whatever I can to make the best out of what we actually have.  Dealing with her behavior is easier when I am busy with actual things to do.  It's when I am not that depression can set in.  And the winter always makes me more depressed.  And I can't battle that with meds (they either don't work for me, or I have horrible negative reactions to them), so I have to battle it with activity instead, for my body, mind, and soul.  

So I use exercise, mindfulness, and keeping busy with projects (like starting my YouTube channel for art).  Art always helps me feel better, so picking that back up again has been good for me.  I just don't share these things with my mother, as my life is 100% none of her business anymore.  It never was, but I didn't realize that back then and let her hurt me by either putting down my work or dismissing it all together.  Now, she has no idea what I even do on a daily basis.  

But that's what's been going on lately.  And I keep my original mantra in my mind whenever I deal with her: she cannot give me more than she has.  And that helps, too.  Lately she's been super favoring my husband and ignoring me, which is hurtful and makes me sad and angry, but I realized she's actually giving me a gift.  When she's ignoring me, she's not asking me for a thousand things or hurting me.  So I instead take her silence and dwell in that blessed space where I am already living my best life.  But then she'll open her mouth and remind me that I'm not.  But for that period of time, I got to enjoy it, so ha!  She thinks she's hurting me, which cracks me up.  No, lady, I am #blessed when you are silent.  So keep it up!  LOL

Okay, that's enough.  I must go finish a handmade journal I'm working on.  I just got a new workspace yesterday and some new art supplies, so I need to go use them.  Until next time.  And I hope you're getting through the winter season with your sanity intact if you're dealing with a narcissist (or dealing with healing from their abuse).