So, the last two times my mom's BFF Christmas came over, we all sat together and chatted and I bought coffee cake, just like we used to do back when we lived in our apartment.  But apparently Christmas thinks it's manipulative and awful and hates it, so today, when my mother, after shit talking me to Christmas and her back to my mom, asked me to buy them "apple cider donuts" instead, I said "No. Christmas can bring her own sweets if she wants them.  You both have diabetes and I should not be supplying either of you with sweets."  She was very annoyed with me after that.  But fuck if I am going to buy either of those women a damn thing when they trash talk me behind my back, but are super sweet to my face.  

Also, they're both whining how I will never leave them alone again, so that's it.  They can be alone forever.  AND I am taking the kitchen table to work on my Halloween village I am building from scratch and those two bozos can sit outside and Christmas can breathe in my mother's secondhand smoke.  I'll be damned, once again, if I am going to be stuck in my bedroom all day, not allowed to come into the kitchen just so they can be alone.  They can be alone outside.  HA!  That make me feel better about allowing that twit to come into MY house and exclude ME (and my hubby).  They can sit outside and be stupid out there.  I cannot believe my mother, after admitting she knew I was listening to their conversation (which was stupid of me, I know, but in my previous post I explained why, and have before in other posts, and that's stopping) and then shit talked me, made fun of the fact I give them sweet breads, that she'd all cutesy ask me for apple cider donuts for when Christmas comes over tomorrow.  I swear to god, this woman is fucking insane.  

Today I slapped on headphones and cleaned the fuck out of my stove.  Which is a huge thing for me, as I am usually really anxious about being somewhere my mother would run into me and ask me what I am doing then make stupid comments and blah blah blah.  Then I worry the entire time if I am cleaning it right because if I don't, she'll think bad things about how I clean (since she ALWAYS complains when I clean--did I post on here about her stupid comment about me deep cleaning the fridge to an almost new condition? "Who got a hair up their ass to clean the fridge?"  That's it.  Nothing else was said.).  This is partially the reason I can't clean sometimes.  I am too freaking paranoid to.  But this has to STOP and I need to clean because things are dirty and fuck if that crazy bitch comes into the room and sees me.  I have new headphones (I hate them, they hurt my ears) and I will use them and ignore her.  Now, I am hungry and maybe I'll go wish the windows.  

And no, she's not getting a fucking apple cider donut tomorrow.  But maybe I will  😜

Who am I?  This question has plagued me my entire life.  And just when I think I have it figured out, I get a wake-up message that I was so very wrong.  There is no one Shay, anymore than there is just one star in the sky.  I am not like the sun and the moon and the earth.  I am not constant and unchanging.  And that's not really what I mean for this blog post.  I am not talking about being unadaptable to change.  I am talking about the fact you couldn't call me the "the sun" or "the moon" or "the earth" in namesake.  As one day I may think I am a star shining brightly in the sky, illuminating the days for those around me and providing warmth for others.  Or that I could be "the earth" and provide a shelter and a safe haven and food and a home for those I love.  Or that I could be "the moon", being a beacon of hope, shining in the long and starless night.  But then my mother opens her mouth and reminds me that I am not "the sun", "the earth", or "the moon" for myself or anyone else.  She reminds me that I am nothing.  I am fodder for her anger and sadness and frustration.  I am hers.  I am hers to do what she likes with.  Even though I don't want to be hers.  I want to be mine.  But I am not allowed nice things.  I am not allowed anything in life.  If I have something that's just mine, she tries to take it away from me.  I only allowed what she gives me.  And as long as I am living with her and/or she's in my life, I will be hers forever. 

And that's what it means to be a caregiver for your narcissistic parent in your home.  

Except it's not my home, is it?  I have no way to remove her or to leave, as this is her legal home (it's in her name, yet I did all the work to get it and do all the work to keep it).  And it's not my home as I can't do whatever I like in it at any given time, not without her being in my way or trying to control the situation.  Or without her commenting on everything we do or her trying to intervene or use it against us to hurt us.

Yesterday I....what's the past tense of swinging?  Oh it's swung.  I thought so, but I had to look it up, as I've never said that word before.  Weird.  Anyways, yesterday I swung.  If you didn't know, I try to swing every single day as a way to a) calm my nervous system and allow it to be okay with swinging (as a child, I could never swing very high, as it would make me sick) and b) to allow my inner children to have some fun every single day.  But then one day, a few weeks ago, I was out there and mother saw me and kept staring at me.  So much so, I got so self-conscious that I stopped.  For like, weeks.  Not to mention it also rained for weeks so I couldn't anyways, but I had no interest in doing so even if it had been nice out.  And yesterday, even though it felt wonderful to swing again (she was inside), I was so paranoid the entire time that she was going to come out and say something about it or stare at me some more.  So all it did was trigger my inner child to be on guard.  To be on the lookout in case she came out.  To be hypervigilant.  And jumpy.  I just couldn't fully relax.

One part of my hypervigilance is listening to her conversations.  I've done that my entire life because I couldn't bear the idea of my mother hating me so much, yet I had to know if she did (today it's to see if she's planning or scheming something).  My son once accused me of liking it.  I don't like it.  I fucking hate it.  I do it because I feel I have to.  To protect myself.  To protect my family from her.  But this past blog post and today's conversation she had with her BFF Christmas, I just can't do it anymore.  I can't listen to them talk shit about me and make fun of me.  I am sick of letting them make me feel like I am worthless.  I am so sick of feeling this way.  I am so tired of caring.  Why do I care so much?  I need to take that inner little girl that's being triggered (though, I suspect it's way more than just one) and protect her instead of exposing her to more pain.  That's what I am feeling right now.  It's not 46-year-old me that's hurting.  It's 5 year-old-me.  10 year-old-me.  17 year-old-me.  And all the ages in between.  All of those inner children are crying and hurting because I subjected them to hearing her bullshit being said about me and I have to carry around their pain today.  That's a lot for one person to carry.  It's too much  That's why I feel so bad right now.  And that's why I can't listen to her conversations anymore.  Because the 46-year-old me doesn't give two shits about what an old hag thinks of me.  I know better.  But all those inner kids?  They aren't there yet.  They haven't been given the chance to heal yet.   

I should apologize to them (to my inner children, not my mother and her idiot friend).  I should hug them and say I am sorry that I allowed them to be hurt again.  And I need to help them learn that she's only acting out because she's angry or sad or depressed.  It has nothing to do with me at all.  I am just her scapegoat.  

If I didn't live with her, I wouldn't worry so much.  But at the same time, no matter what I do, I will be under constant stress as long as she is in my life.  I am looking to move her into senior housing and letting us stay here in the house.  She will be making enough money to afford it soon.  And we finally have income again.  It won't be easy, but we could find a way to make it work.  We have in the past.  So much of my life has been deciding between money and my mother.  So, in order for us to have enough money to live on, that means having my mother directly in my life.  If I want her out of my life, then we are so far below poverty it's not even funny.  It was always a choice between feeding my family and making sure my kids were taken care of or keeping our mental sanity.  And she always knew that and used it to her advantage.  So my question is now: do I put her in AL and struggle again or keep her here and learn to deal with it and be able to save money and afford a better life later on?  I just wish I knew how to learn to deal with it.  Though, I am trying.

Here's the thing.  Back when she had control of my life, which was still around a year ago, she did everything she could to hurt me and control me.  It was constant and she never let up.  Then I finally got control back by building boundaries and taking over her life (one, she can't do certain things anymore, mentally, so I had to and two, she's an "all or nothing" type of person, if you give her any bit of control back she will take it and then try to take it all--I DO NOT want control of her life, like at all, but I have to otherwise she'll make us all homeless and she'll mess up mine and my family's lives) and she's fucking pissed about it.  Even when she slaps a saccharine sweet smile on her face and pretends to play nice, she's still seething inside.  What did I expect?  Did I think she'd roll over and take this lying down?  She's not that person.  She's a lying, scheming, hateful person who talks shit about everyone and everything, all the time (including her BFF Christmas and all my family members).  Do, did I think for one second that by taking away all her control she'd love me more?  Ha!  What a stupid thought!!  Of course she hates me.  Of course I am her scapegoat.  Of course I wasn't going to win her over by being in charge of her.  

I always joke (well, not exactly joking, it's the truth) that she acts like a spoiled bratty preteen girl acting out against her mother who sets rules for her.  And I realize, that's exactly what's going on.  I am her scapegoat because she's an unruly child who needs boundaries.  It's funny, she's tried so hard all my life to treat me as though I am a child.  Yet, here is that "child" being in charge of every aspect of her life.  No wonder she's so pissed.  She wanted nothing to do but control me for my entire life and now I am the one controlling her life.  That really has to be a huge hit to the ego.  And to the evil part of her that hates she can't control me anymore.  Like I said, no wonder she's pissed.  Not that she has a right to be.  Or rather, not that she has a right to act the way she does about it.  Be pissed all you want, but talk to me about it.  Not that things would change, because things are they way they are due to her poor decision making skills.  But then again, if she were the type to talk to me, she'd not have the boundaries placed on her to begin with.  She'd be reasonable and not make crazy-ass decisions all the time.  I had to take away her ability to do those crazy-ass things and now she's angry for life.  Oh well.  I guess I will have to be okay with her being angry with me.  I have to learn to be okay with her talking shit about me.  Because what she does behind my back or feel about me or my family, doesn't fucking matter.  She's an idiot, just like her BFF. 

Let them be idiots. 

So yes, assisted living would be the best place for her.  She'd be out from under my thumb.  It would be great.  But again, that would be financial ruin and we'd be back in the place we were before.  We'd have to move out and go live in an apartment.  And that's an insane thought.  

Oh and I am also feeling...I don't know what the word is for it.  It feels like I've walked into the twilight zone and nothing is real anymore.  Because when I try to sell anything online?  Which is what I do for a living.  NOT A SINGLE PERSON EVEN SEES MY POSTS OR CLICKS ON THEM ANYMORE!!  WTF is going on?  I am trying to open a store and I am terrified nobody will buy from me.  I used to get TONS of messages to buy stuff the same day I'd post it.  But now?  Nothing but crickets.  I feel...defeated.  And to even make this crap, it takes it's toll on me because I have my mother to deal with, and I have to manage the lives of my kids and hubby and myself.  One of my sons is pretty self-sufficient, but the other depends on me for everything (he has ASD--though they both do, my older son's ASD and ADHD are more severe and they really interfere with his life).  So, I am being pulled this way and that every single day of my life (not to mention, I also have ASD and ADHD).  And then I try to make money on top of it all and nothing happens.  It's like, why do I even try?  I don't get it.  Well, I will try in my store and if nothing happens, then I don't know what I will do for money.  Sigh.  

If I could only make enough money, I could put my mother in assisted living and we could be free.  And she'd also be more happy, too.

Sigh.  

Just keep swimming, right?  I just wish I was as clueless as Dory so I could just be happy even when I live with a shark.  Though my mother would never go for the whole "fish are friends, not food" idea.  I am the only food she lives on anymore.  But I am tired of being her food.  

Oh, and another thing?  She knows I am listening to her conversations and says inflammatory things on purpose to hurt me.  She said it today.  So, here I am falling right into her trap.  Silly me.  When will I learn?  Sigh.  I need to just let go.  And if she surprises me with something stupid, then I'll deal with it.  I just can't live like this anymore.  I can't deal with this shit.  So, I just need to let it all go.  And let her be the child she is.  

I became the WOTH, didn't I?  I can do this, too.  

My stomach hurts.  Because, once again, mother is talking shit about me behind my back to her BFF Christmas.  But what bothers me even more, that not only does Christmas believe her, but she joins in and laughs at me.  I don't want to feel this way anymore.  I am so tired of feeling like the only people who are outside of my immediate family hate me and want to pick on me behind my back.  Why do I care so much what two fucking idiots thinks of me?  Two narcissistic fucking idiots, that is.  Seriously, you could combine their IQ together and still not have enough to power a small clock.  Unlike a real potato, which can do that all its own.  

So, I beg an answer to this question: why do I fucking care so much? 

They laughed at me today.  Literally laughed at me doing something nice for both of them.  It was like they were saying "We could do this nice thing back in the day, but you can't, because you do not belong, you interloper."  And now that I am the only person in power to do this nice thing, and now it's stupid or silly.  

I can't win no matter what I do.  They are mean girls who are pushing me out.  Just like my mother always does.  It's like, if she has nobody else, I am good enough for her.  But the MINUTE she as a friend who's not me, she shoves me off as though I am an annoying tag-a-long.  

I really fucking hate her so much.  I hate that she can make me feel unwanted, even today, all these years later.  When I feel like this, I can't even imagine a life where I will feel happy again.  I don't know what to do.  I don't know how to get away from her.  Life keeps getting in the way and keeping us tied together and I am so ready to be done with that.  I am ready for her to go live in assisted living or a nursing home and for me to be free of her, never having anything to do with her again.  But I fear that will never happen.  That I will be stuck in this torment forever.  

How can I find a way to not be tormented by her?  I've done so much work and yet, here I am, still the same person, still allowing her to make me feel the same shame and humiliation about myself as she always has.  She's talked shit about me for my entire life.  For over forty years.  I was under the blind assumption that it was only when she was angry with me.  But as it turns out, even if she doesn't show it, she's always angry with me.  So, how do I stop caring?  I've already cut the cord on loving her.  I don't.  I care about her well-being and whatnot, but I do not love her.  So, what will it take for me to stop thinking of her as my mother who should love me?  Why can't I find my own sense of self-worth and confidence so I stop caring what she thinks of me?  Or what her BFF thinks of me?  Why do I care what two people who are dumber than a box of rocks think of me?  I just don't freaking get it.  It makes zero sense.  

I am so overwhelmed living here.  Like, to the point of it affecting my mental health.  I can't deal with her issues as well as my kids' and husband's issues and my own, too.  It's all too much.  I can't be the sole person dealing with it all.  It's not fair.  When I ask for help, I do not get it.  Not for long periods, anyways.  Things will change for two seconds and then go right back to normal.  I just don't want to have to be the person always reminding everyone else to do shit.  It's not fair.  

I mean, I get it.  We all have ADHD in this house.  It's not like they are bad people, they are actually amazing people.  But it's just too much for me.  Too much expected of me.  

I just want to put her in a home and be done with it.  But we're in a predicament where we can't just do that.  Sigh.  

I think the experts are right.  I think you can only heal from narcissistic abuse when you are no longer living with your abuser.  I thought I could heal with her living here.  But I don't think I can.  

I need to systematically go through all our things and just start chucking shit.  I know I've said this before but I need to actually do it this time.  Just, be picky about what we keep and get rid of the rest.  What does this have to do with my mother?  Well, the more I get rid of, the safer I will feel about having to leave here one day.  And the safer I feel about her getting into our shit.  The less we have, the less she can get into.  

And if she were to be put in a home or something, we'd have to leave because the state would take the house.  So, I'd feel better if we were "move ready", even if we don't move for a long period of time.  

I am closer to 50 than 40 now.  I want to be done with feeling this way.  I am even terrified of making friends because what if to my face they are sweet and kind and laugh at me behind my back?  I feel so full of shame for who I am, I have no idea if I can ever heal from that.  

So, I am wallowing in shame right now, but then it hits me.  "Remember your training, middle-aged Jedi.  Remember the force."  Just kidding.  I am referring to Buddhism.  To remember what I learned in how to deal with things like this.  To find the compassion, even for people who don't deserve it.  To find the way she is hurting and realize that's where her anger towards me comes from.  It had nothing to do with me at all.  Same goes for her BFF, if she wants to laugh at me, then it's her own issues that are causing it.  I think her BFF is mad at me for suggesting she stops driving because she gets dizzy and she could get into an accident.  Then she lied and told my mother I said she shouldn't come over at all, even though I said her husband should drive her.  But the funny part is that I told my mother exactly what I said to her, so my mother, in some way, knew she was lying.  

But again, none of this is my fault.  They are two miserable gossiping old sea hags and they are just taking out their miserableness on me.  

And I still don't know if my mother has dementia.  I think she plays up her forgetfulness in front of me because when she talks to her BFF she sounds perfectly normal.  So yeah, I don't know.  

Sigh.  Her BFF wants me to change her password for her email for her, and now I am not going to do it.  I mean, if you're going to laugh at me behind your back, why would I do anything for you?   So, I don't need to do nice things for her.  I won't be mean, but I won't go out of my way, either.  

But one thing I am going to do is?  Start getting rid of all the cats we have.  I hate that idea, when I look at them I love them so much, but we CANNOT afford to pay their vet bills.  And my mother insists that I take them all to the vet, all the time...which is total BS as my pets NEVER went to vets growing up.  She let our cat live for at least 10 years with ear mites and his ears were seeping black liquid and she still never took him to the vet.  Talk about neglect.  For us, we live in a house with like 7 cats and vet prices are THROUGH THE ROOF.  So, they need to find new homes where they can be taken care of.  

The thing is, they are all so old which also makes me feel horrible giving them up.  It sucks.  I just don't know what to do.  Sigh.  

Well, tomorrow is a new day and maybe I'll have a clearer head tomorrow.  Ugh.  

So, this past week, she's stolen my ziplock bags (like a mass amount of them), my paper towels, and a kitchen chair.  All without asking.  It's so weird.  Then she took down all her cat knick-knacks in the living room and then went in there to look at the bare shelves and asked my son "Who put these up here?"  Then she bagged them all up to sell them (hence the stealing of my ziplocks and paper towels) and I told her, they're like worth $1 or less and nobody was going to buy them, which disappointed her (I think she wants money or something).  But boy, she's acting nutty.  She even yelled at me today, because she broke her cigarettes and wanted me to replace them.  I had taped them together with paper tape and she refused to use them.  But she said "they don't work!" and I said well try them to make sure.  And she started screaming.  Sigh.  

Yeah, my question if mother is demented or not?  I think she really might be LOL   Taking things without asking and just being all around weird.  It's not like her.  Or really, it is.  She just waits after a long time of acting normal to act up and be weird and every time is different.  This time, she stole my kitchen chair.  I am going to replace it with an outdoor chair that's high up so she can get in and out of it.  It's cushioned, too, which is what she wants.  So, we'll see if that works.  She'll prolly hate it and take my chair again LOL  Oh well.  

She's getting really weird lately.  But we'll see if this is just one of her "phases" or if she's going downhill.  Most likely it's a phase.  But we'll see.  

We were at our local resale shop and I thought, for the second time this summer (although right now it's meteorological fall) that I thought I saw him again.  The first time was at the concert we went to (an old classmate of mine was performing).  At that concert I had THREE issues of seeing someone I thought I knew (all three were men/boys who had attacked me or nearly attacked me).  One was my rapist (the 19 year old boy who raped me when I was 14), one was my uncle (the one who I think molested me), and the guy who tried to rape and/or murder me when I was 19 and working at a movie store (he thought I was alone).  That particular guy's doppleganger thought I was alone at the concert and tried to walk with me and backed off when my husband and kids came for me).  I had had three instances of PTSD flashbacks that night.  And the music wasn't great either, it was kind of boring, so it wasn't really a fun night for me.  Although, it was nice to get out and do something with my family--despite the PTSD flashbacks. 

But the other day, we were at the resale and shop and right next my husband stood my rapist.  My heart skipped a beat and I felt like I couldn't breathe right.  But I forced myself to go right up to him and look at him in his face.  It wasn't him.  But from the back it sure looked like him.  Not like he looked back then, but now.  I know what he looks like now because he lives in my town and I look him up now and again to make sure he still looks the same, in case I run into him.  I haven't looked him up years, but this summer, I thought I saw him twice.  Neither one was him, nor was the other man my dead uncle or the other, my attacker (he was far too young...but man, he looked and acted JUST LIKE HIM--so much so that it was creepy as fuck).  

I don't like flashblacks.  I have them a lot, though.  For so many reasons.  I just wish my brain could remember certain things.  I wish it could tell me the things I want to know.  Like, if my abuser was my uncle or someone else (or and someone else).  I want to know these things.  I want to remember.  Though I am getting close to being ready to accept that my father my have been my abuser (and/or/too), which would answer so many questions I have.  One being, can a grown man have a book on sexually abusing children and not actually abuse their child?  Is that even possible?  The man was a porn addict and did not have sex with my mother (nor did he like her affection).  He had VHS porn, magazines, and sexually explicit books.  Like, masses of them all.  HUGE boxes stuffed in their closet.  And within the book collection, he had a book on molesting little kids (I can't understand in what universe something like that could be published, even back then).  He didn't have magazines or any nude photos of kids.  But that book was explicit enough and horrible.  AND I had a dream as a child (or was it a dream or a distant memory) of me being 3 years old and stripped of my clothes with my BFF Eddie (we both were in our underwear) and we were in a basement, sitting up on something and someone was circling us, and we were terrified.  Obviously something happened to me, because I was WAY too young to dream something like that or to even realize something like that could happen.  Also, I remember the light of the basement.  It was twilight and there were no lights on.  And for most of my life, I have been terrified of being a room during twilight with no lights on.  That grey/blue hue that enters a room right after dusk.  It sickens me and always has.  Something happened in a basement with my BFF at three years old at dusk.  Or something similar happened that I dreamed about it later.  I can't remember.  

I try to talk to my inner children, the wounded exiles (in IFS) that are being protected by not letting me remember.  But if they would just trust me enough as a 46 year old adult, to know that I can protect that little me from more pain, then I could help her heal.  But I have no idea how to remember.  I think I am going to try some self-hypnosis and see how that goes.  My old therapist was going to use hypnosis on me, but never did.  Now I will be losing my insurance and won't be able to get a therapist anymore.  Sigh.  I signed up but they're all booked out for months and now I am losing my insurance.  Freaking annoying. 

Well, I guess just some self work is in order if I can't get therapy.  Time to break out my IFS cards and all my guided journals and see if I can find some self hypnosis scripts I can use.  It's not what I wanted, but it's better than doing nothing.  

When I think of my uncle's face (I always think of his weird ass face and his prickly stubble when I think of him), I want to fucking throw up.  I just wish I could remember if he did something, or maybe his oldest son?  I have too many weird memories of men and boys doing weird things with me, things I cannot explain as an adult.  

I just hate not being able to remember.  

Today my mother's BFF came over again.  She called to come over yesterday, but I decided last time that she can't call the me the DAY OF and ask to come over, she needs to call at least a day before.  So, I told her no, my kids could be sick and we'd have to wait until tomorrow (today) to see if they are sick or not.  It's not a total lie, our allergies are out of control right now, all of us, and we all have been sneezing and crap.  But still, I lied because I need to inform her now we need to make plans in the middle of the week instead, but I didn't want to go into that with her on the spot.  I am hoping this will be clear to her that she can't just call and ask to come over.  I have to clean up before she comes and now, due to our new management protocols (me, I am the management), I have to go to the grocery store and get a coffee cake before she comes, because Mummy isn't allowed to have friends over alone anymore.  

Well, last week, she thought it was a one-time thing, but today she realized this is the new protocol and she isn't liking it.  But before we moved in here, I was a part of their visits.  So, I am making myself a part of their visits again, because when I am not there, my mother will use her time to talk shit about me.  I am am tired of it.  Granted, it should not matter, but she lives in this house and I am stuck with her and I don't need to be disrespected in my own house (she says as she proceeds to have 10 years worth of blogs about her mother).  

Anyways, so mother realized this was the new normal and decided to try to really irk me.  She started saying things that she damn well knew was the same shit she does, just to see how I'd react.  I said nothing, but my husband, who was washing dishes, chimed in and said "Oh wow, I can't believe she did that!  Isn't that terrible when someone does that kind of stuff?"  He was referring to my mother, and it was all I could do to not laugh. Every time she said something snappy or rude about someone we knew who did the same things she did to me, my hubby would chime in with a fake voice and overact and be funny about it.  And he said later "The best part about it was that it went over both of their heads!"  And I agree LOL  

I love that he comes to my defense, because it was really bothering me, the things she was saying, and not only hurting my feelings, but making me really angry.  At one point she made a joke about my cousin being forced to drink beer as a small child, because he had accidentally ruined his father's beer, so his dad forced him to drink it.  So I said "Oh, and now my cousin has been an alcoholic just like his father for his entire adult life, so now we know where it started."  She shut up about it after that.  

Then, we were sitting there, chatting and listening to the hens cackle at each other, and I had the radio on.  And what song came on?  But the song that came on the day my mother slapped me in the face in 2006 and I called 911, and they didn't answer, so I went into my car and that song came on (which has my name in it).  THEN another song with my name in it came on...and the theme of that song is pretty hilarious compared the situation I was in in that moment.  I can't tell you subject matter or the names of either, as you'll know my real name, but trust me, it was all I could do again to keep a straight face.  

If I were a person who believed in signs?  I'd think that first song was a reminder that my mother will never change.  And the second was just to make me laugh.  

But then Christmas is ready to go home and I go to move her car, and instead of going in, my mother stands at her car for fifteen fucking minutes, BLOCKING ME from seeing or talking to Christmas (though it didn't stop me), which was her old self creeping up, doing her whole "body blocking" bullshit she'd do at the doctor's or when the cops came (when my idiot cousins called them to check on my mother's welfare, even though they knew she was fine), and I thought for a moment, maybe that song was a sign after all?  Maybe it's a nice little warning that maybe nothing will ever change as long as I have her in my life?  Well, until we get some money, there is no way to go anywhere, so there is nothing I can do about it.  

But since this is such a big ordeal, an undertaking if you will, I will have Christmas only come over every other week, or even less than that.  Every week is just too damn much.  I can't tolerate any of this shit more than that.  Plus, I don't want coffee cake every damn week, but I have to have it for them, so that way I can make it be, at least for now, the reason I am there at all.  

Why, oh, why did I ever let her visit with her alone??  I should have always been a part of it.  

Another thing I need to clear up with her is that we have to ALWAYS sit inside when she comes over, because I can't stand the cigarette smoke and I am not going to be told to just stay in when they go out.  That's NOT happening.  So, I need to make it clear we're always going to be inside.  Or else she can't come over.  

Sigh.  So much work for something so freaking stupid.  I can't wait until none of this matters anymore.  

So, apparently people with VaD (vascular dementia) can be overdiagnosed (meaning misdiagnosed), but at what rate, I do not know.  My mother has exhibited signs of dementia in the past, but hasn't for such a long time that I am starting to wonder if she ever had it at all.  Because apparently, taking medication such as propranolol and primidone can give you issues like dementia, but aren't really dementia.  Then we have this article right here, that states: "The panel clinically diagnosed possible or probable vascular dementia (VaD) in 27 (38%) patients, whereas only five (19%) patients (p = 0.017) had an autopsy-confirmed diagnosis of VaD".  So, she may not even have it.  Though I am never going to bring that up to her neurologist, as they'll probably laugh at me or not listen anyways.  The thing is, around me?  She acts helpless and so quiet and stupid silly.  Around her BFF Christmas, she acts like her normal damn self.  The self she was before she moved in here.  

I will say she's declined in other ways, though.  Like, there is zero way she should be driving.  Or climbing the stairs or using the stove or going for walks by herself.  But one could say she shouldn't have been able to do those things long before she moved in here.  

But as for her memories, they were always bad.  Like, always.  Like for my entire fucking life.  She's always made up a scenario that she likes and she sticks with it.  like, actually believes her lies.  So, now when she's old and doing the same thing, it looks dementia-related.  But in reality, she just has a piss-poor memory mixed with her narcissism and possibly some added memory issues from her primidone (that she needs to be able to life her life).  I am not saying she doesn't have dementia.  I am just saying it's a possibility that she may not have it.  

The neurologist that diagnosed her was kookier than shit.  He was also opinionated and very autistic (not bashing ND people here, as I am one myself) with pants that were so tight you could see his summer sausage and kiwis (which I found myself trying sooooo hard not to look at, but I could not help it).  He was in his late 60's or 70's, too.  And those cat scan pics were checked out by many neuros before him and nobody saw anything.  So, I am just saying.  

Perhaps my mother doesn't have dementia and she just has NMD: narcissistic memory disorder (I just made that up--but it fits, does it not?)?   

Which kind of is terrible.  The ONLY reason we all moved in here together was because I was told she was in decline and I knew there was light at the end of the tunnel.  Granted, there has been light, but not due to her decline, but due to me taking her power away.  But still.  I wanted a mother I could enjoy being around.  Her parents both had Alzheimer's and her brother had Lewy Body Dementia and all three of them were narcissists and all three completely mellowed out and became silly old people as they progressed.  I wanted that with my own mom.  I wanted her to be confused and silly and forget that she hates me.  Too bad that's apparently not happening.  She's still talking shit about me behind my back regularly and still hates me when I do everything I can to make her happy.  Granted, I don't always.  But even when I do, she hates me.  

Today she asked for more pairs of jeans and a gigantic list of stupid shit on Amazon (like coffee body scrub and things for washing dishes, even though she doesn't wash dishes).  I am throwing the list away, as none of that crap is worth buying (and she can't use a body scrub in the shower as she'll fall over and hurt herself) and now I am stuck having to buy two new pairs of jeans that I can't afford.  Though, I am just most likely going to take her old jeans that are too big for her and take them in instead of buying her new ones.  Because that's just stupid to waste money when we don't have it right now.  

OR, I am going to start making her fucking pants.  I can deconstruct a pair of jeans that fit her and then use it as a pattern to make her new pants.  I like that idea.  OOOHH I can just make her parachute pants so they can be any size!  Yes!  

Ugh.  Okay.  Just my thoughts for today.  

I was adopted at 1 1/2 years old in the late 70's.  I used to identify with that word so much, "adopted", as though it described my situation perfectly.  Like, if you tell someone you're adopted, the first thing someone will say (or think) is "Oh wow, your birthmother is so selfless!"  Images of a tearful heartbroken young girl giving her newborn baby away to parents who can afford to take care of it will conjure up in that person's mind.  Because that's the story we're all told that adoption is.  Young mothers doing what's right for their babies, even though it hurts them to do so.  

My birthmother was twenty years old.  Okay, wait, hold up, let's rewind.  I call her my "birthmother", but again, that puts a clear idea of what she was in the mind of the person who doesn't know what happened.  And that's just not right.  That idea of what a birthmother is is not what mine was.  She's not my birthmother.  She was my actual mother, who took care of me for six entire months before decided she hated being a mom and just abandoned me with strangers.  Right before Christmas of that year, too (must have been a fun holiday).  Yes, I am aware that's a very negative and simplistic view of what happened to me as a baby, but it's the truth.  You can boil down exactly what happened to just that.  She even told me once "I have more connection with animals then I do humans".  I mean, at least she admits it.  Not only that, I was living with my entire family who loved me, not just her.  I had my grandmother, my aunt, and two uncles, too.  I was six months old, and because of her selfishness, I was given to strangers.  

Now, to be 100% fair here, my narcissistic grandmother did throw her out.  Though she did tell my birthmother to leave me there.  But rather than either leaving me with the people who loved me or taking me with her, she decided to just give me to the state.  She decided if my aunt and grandmother weren't there to take care of me (which they both did, because she refused to), and if she wasn't going to be in charge of the situation, then she was going to do what was best for her, not me.  What was best for her was to get back at my grandmother for throwing her out by getting rid of me.  What was best for me was to leave me with my actual caretakers, my actual family.  My grandmother (albeit, a narcissist--though it wasn't until recently that my birthmother has finally accepted that fact) even fought her in court to get custody of me when she heard of her giving me away to foster parents.  My family wanted me.  But the courts decided to do what's best for my mother and let her give me away.  

Yes, I know that growing up with my grandmother wouldn't have been easy, but would it had been worse than watching my father beat my mother in drunken rages and my mother narcissistically abusing me my entire life?  I mean, both families would have sucked, but I can't say that leaving me with my natural family would have been worse.  

Anyways, that's why I don't like calling her my birthmother or identifying with the word "adopted".  I wasn't given up at birth by a teenage or unprepared mother.  My mother was the same age I was when I gave birth to my oldest son and she lived with a whole support system to help take care of me (whereas I didn't have one at age twenty).  But then I was literally ripped from the only home I knew as an almost toddler and thrusted into a family of strangers every six months for the next year (three times, in fact).  Oh, and by the way, she didn't abort me because her boyfriend decided to stay with her.  She wanted to be with him and thought I was the way to do that (she had cheated on him with his best friend and didn't know who the father was).  But then he left her, so she no longer wanted me.  So, if she would have kept me, I would have never been her top priority.  Whichever man she was with would have been.  

So, I met her when I was in my early twenties.  She was cold towards me.  I didn't know what to make of her as I am a very warm and loving person.  My aunt was nice, as were my cousins and my grandma and uncle, which made me feel welcome (even if my birthmother didn't).  Everything was weird back then.  But as time went on, we got to know each other more and even went to visit her for a week back in 2009 or so (which was four days too long--for her, she was very irritated with having us around and even got snippy with me).  

Years went, by she was sending Christmas boxes to us and the kids each year for a few years.  Then one day, everything stopped.  No more phone calls.  No more letters.  No more holiday boxes or even cards.  Nothing.  She got tired of keeping up the façade of me and my family being her family.  I thought we were on our way towards actually being family again, but things started getting weird.  Sporadically she'd send letters.  Some years she'd send us Christmas stuff, but normally she forgot.  She forgot my 40th birthday.  In fact, she forgot most of my birthdays.  She would forget to contact me for years.  Then out of the blue text me photos of some godforsaken place.  "Where is this?" I would ask.  "I am on vacation!" she'd reply.  As though years hadn't gone by without a word from her.  During the pandemic she didn't contact me once.  I eventually broke down and wrote to her to check on her.  "Oh, I was just going to message you!"  Sure you were.  Now she's moving up here, to be closer to her mother, and she's all up my ass about it.  

In 2020 or 2021 I sent her a Christmas card (she didn't send us one--she hardly ever does) and it had my blog's email address on it.  The blog was about our new house and how everything was going here.  She never sent me back a card or responded, but I saw she did go look at all my blog posts (and didn't write anything on them).  By the way, you can use StatCounter to do that--check to see who's on your blogs/websites.  Anyways, I saw that, waited a week, still nothing from her, I got so fucking mad that I turned off my blog to anyone who wasn't me.  The idea of the blog was NOT to replace having contact with us, it was to add to it.  

In 2017 or 2018, she got on my Facebook and donated money to the charity I was raising money for for my birthday, but she didn't even send me a card.  I'm like, you can spend on money on something adjacent to my birthday, but you can't even buy me a card?  When she did send me a paper floral bouquet for my birthday another year later, she copied a card she saw as my message.  She's done this before, handmade me a card (when she'd get a hair up her ass to do so) and then copy some other card's sentiment and pass it off as her own.  Sigh.  Never a nice message me made herself.  

Back in 2015 or so, she wrote to me on social media and said "Your posts are too negative!  I see you spiraling down into a negative space and you'd better be careful otherwise you'll stay that way!  I need to unfollow you because I can't handle what you post."  Sigh.  Another time on social media she saw me post about a pic we took right before we became homeless in 2018 and how the pic gave me a stomachache knowing was going to happen next.  So, she responded with "But everything turned out fine".  She said more than that, but that was the gist.  So, I gave it some time and put her on restricted.  And then eventually I blocked her (though a few years later).  Our only form of contact now is email.  

And again, she only contacts me when SHE has nothing going on in her life.  That's it.  I am not her family, she does not see me as so.  Which is fine, but she has me listed as her daughter on all her online stuff, which irks me.  But I ignore it.  Let her life her fantasy of portraying to others she's a mom.  But I know the truth.  And so does she.  

Anyways, I am a talker.  If you read my blog posts, you know this.  And she will write huge long emails to me, so I will respond in the same fashion.  But while I try to respond to her words, she ignores most of the things I say to her and only answers back to the easy stuff, and nothing ever about anything personal.  But one thing she has done consistently is to ignore my invitations to have the "BIG" conversations with me.  Like, the fact that I grew up with extreme abuse.  And the fact that SHE is the reason for that happening (her choices--you'd think most birthmothers would feel guilty for that).  And she never asks me how I feel about being adopted.  When I first met her, I wrote her a poem about how grateful I was for the choices she made, because I then had a child I wouldn't have had otherwise.  She just said "thanks" in a flat tone and put the poem away.  It was so odd.  But this time, she's done it again.  She was complaining about her friend having panic attacks and I said that I lived with "debilitating anxiety" and she didn't say one freaking word about that back to me.  

So, I have found a new way of responding to her emails from now on.  No more information about myself.  No more anything personal and no more anything from my perspective whatsoever.  From now on, my responses are short, curt, and supportive.  Like her tone-deaf email about how much her vacation sucked in Nova Scotia recently because of the fires, the weather, and her friend's panic attacks.  I should have written this "I am so sorry you had such a bad time.  Though I glad you got home safe."  That should have been it.  But that was when I wrote back my long-winded email about her friend and her panic attacks and how my anxiety is insanely bad.  Her email back was also long, but again, it was all about her.  So, I wrote back my short, curt, and supportive email.   Just like four lines and that was it.  And from now on, that's what I am writing to her.  I send her birthday cards each year, and Christmas cards, so show I am more stable than her (ha!) with my thoughts of her.  But I never get one.  Or, I get some half-ass half-baked apology "Sorry, I haven't sent out any cards this year!"  Bitch, I only send out only TWO holiday cards each year: one for you, and one for your mother.  And two birthday cards: one for you, one for your mother.  That's it.  So that's not a freaking excuse. 

She carried me in her body for nine months.  Then she kept me for six more.  You'd think she'd damn well remember my birthdays or the fact that I exist.  If I gave up a baby as a young woman and that child wanted to have me in their life as an adult?  I'd be sending them cards every single birthday and holiday and annoying them with emails and texts until they told me to stop! LOL  (just kidding, I'd respect their boundaries).  But that's the thing: I'd ask them what their boundaries were.  I'd care enough to.  I'd feel so horrible that I gave them up that I'd do anything to be in their life, as much or as little as they'd want me to.  But no my birthmother.  It's 100% about her.  It always has been.  

And it makes me wonder: her mother and brother and sister are all narcissists.  Is she, too?  What does she say about me behind my back?  What does she truly think of me?  I don't know.  Which is why from day this forward, only short, curt, and supportive emails back to her.  Because I cannot trust her.  Not with my emotions.  Not with my love (which, at one point, I was going to ask her to adopt me back).  Not with my anything.  I can't trust her to treat me the way she should treat me.  And I can't trust her to respond correctly if I were to bring it up to her.  I think this is for the best.  Keep her arm's length.  

She almost chose a house 45 min away from me and that scared the crap out of me.  But now she'll be two hours away, thank goodness.  I mean, that's still too close, but it's far enough she probably won't make the trek up here.  

Oh, she also used to come up and visit her family and never visit me (or ask me to visit her).  She lives twelves hours away her family is two hours away.  So one year, she sprung it on me at the last minute and rather than just say no, I lied and said we'd be out of town that weekend at a fictional family member's house.  I didn't want to say no to visit my family and then have her come up here, so I had to say we'd be gone out of town.  It was kind of funny.  She has a hard time thinking outside of herself and her own experiences.  So, having a relationship with her is so tricky.  

But for now, that's my plan.  I don't take her behavior personally, but it really sucks to grow up with a shitty mother, only to have a second chance at having a real mother, and to find out she's not much better.  I mean, don't get me wrong, she's better, but not in the ways I need her to be.  And that's on me.  I guess I am my own mother.  Just like I always have been and always would have been.  It sucks when you find out you didn't miss anything by being adopted.  Just another family who doesn't care much about you.  But again--I don't take it personally.  They all have their own demons to fight.  I just can't rely on them to care that I have my own to fight, too.  Sigh.