The other day my mother asked me for vinegar.  I figured why, but I was in the middle of talking to my kids so I didn't get a chance to answer her.  Then she left a long note about how and why she wanted the vinegar, which is silly and weird (but totally like her) even though I am the person who cleans her coffee pot each month or so.  She knows damn well I will never give her my vinegar as it's like $4 a bottle and she will waste it on random things, which she loves to do.  Back in the day, vinegar was less than a $1 a bottle.  Now it's 3x the price.  So yeah, I safeguard that shit like gold.  I need it for cooking and cleaning, and she can't just be in charge of things like that.  

Anyways, I take the machine outside on our side porch, fill it full of vinegar, and let it run through.  I go back to my room and my mother comes knocking at my door, doing her fake-ass "OMG I DIDN'T MEANT FOR YOU TO CLEAN IT!  OH WOW!"  "I always clean it, ma."  "OH I KNOW!  BUT I KNOW YOU ARE SO BUSY AND I DIDN'T WANT TO HAVE TO MAKE YOU DO IT!"  Blah blah blah blah.  Oh.  My.  Fucking.  God.  She's sooooooooo damn fake that I want to scream.  Next time, I am going to.  I am going to say "Look here, stop it.  You sound so fake when you talk like this.  You know damn well I clean your coffee pot (or whatever it is she's going on about) and so this fake-sounding gushing is just not needed.  If you need this done, tell me, I'll do it, and that's that.  There never has to be anything said about me doing it.  Just a thank you.  That's it.  I am tired of hearing this."  I know it will piss her off, but hey, I don't care.  I can't stand listening to this fake gushing anymore.  

So, we go to the store and I pour the hot vinegar back into the well to let it run through again.  We have HARD water and we need to run it through like four times for it to fully clean.  Which is something my mother always did growing up, too.  She taught me that.  So, I get home and the fucking machine is gone.  

I marched in, and there is she is, running water through the thing, stinking up the whole house like hot ass vinegar, which is why I normally clean it at night so nobody has to smell that putrid shit.  So I walk up, yank the cord out of the wall and say "What are you doing??"  She said "It was done."  I said "No, it needs more run throughs, and now you've wasted half a gallon of vinegar.  Thank you.  When I am working on something, let me do it, you do not need to intervene.  

She said nothing.  But then said "You only need to run it through once."  I almost laughed at her.  She lies when she gets put on the spot anymore.  Never an apology.  "Sorry, I won't do that again."  Never.  

Yes, I got overly mad over something stupid, because in reality, it's not a big deal--to most people.  But just the sheer fact that she went through my son's room to go out on his porch to retrieve her pot, even though she knows damn well I will get it done, just grinds my gears.  I know why she did it.  She knows that I can't stand the smell of hot vinegar.  She knows that.  And that's why I don't let her clean it.  And she knew that by bringing it into the house and running water through it right away it would make the entire house stink.  She wanted to make me angry.  And she wanted to show me that since I won't let her do it herself, she was going to do at least part of it herself without my permission.  Well, from now on, when we leave the house, both my kids bedrooms will be locked, my bedroom will be locked, the basement is locked and the garage.  That way she can't get into shit that's not hers to mess with.  I am so tired of this, not being able to trust her. 

It's not about a coffee pot.  It's not about the vinegar.  It's the fact she knew how much that smell makes me sick and she wanted to make me sick, to punish me, to show me that I am not in control of her or her things.  That's also why she was gushing.  She only gushes when she's annoyed.  She pretending to be overwhelmed with gratitude because she wants to point out that a) she thinks I am never busy and that I don't do enough (by over-the-top gushing about the exact opposite) and/or b) she wants to pretend like she's not angry, so she overdoes the gushing.  She thinks that it covers up her anger, when in reality, she's just pointing it out.  Deep down, she's livid, all day every day, that I don't allow her to wash clothes, wash dishes, mop the floor, etc. etc.  Or that I don't allow her to use bleach in the house.  

The funny part is that she hardly cleans anyways.  I would get it more if she was an avid cleaner, but she's not.  She only wants to clean things she's not allowed to clean (like my stove).  It's freaking annoying when there are plenty of things to clean that she can clean, but just won't do it and only wants to clean things to start a fight.  It never works, as I get to the cleaning before she can even try to do it.  

Ugh.  Anyways, that's the coffee pot caper.  We thought for a moment someone stole it, but then I laughed thinking "Who would even do that?"  Turns out, it was a batty old woman who wanted to smell up the house.  

Next time?  I will clean it at night, like I always do.  And from now on, my son's door will be 100% locked whenever we leave.  I really don't know if she's still getting into his room and rummaging around, like she used to.  So, now I know I can't trust her at all.  We were only gone like fifteen minutes max, too.  How did she eat all her dinner, go outside to smoke AND get her coffee pot to clean it out?  She had to have hurried up to eat and smoke to get it all done. 

Like I said, when she doesn't listen, I take away her access to the thing she's not listening about.  So rather than yell at her and never get a single apology anymore, she just can't have access to do the things she's not supposed to do.  It solves my problem with no arguments.  Well, minus the fact I was pissed when I smelled all that vinegar smell in the house when I got home (it can give me migraines, that and bleach).  But that was justified.  Although, that's exactly what she wanted.  So she won that match.  Dammit.  

Okay, off to go clean things before my mother tries to do put something covered in feces on my things to "clean" them with (she will use a toilet brush to clean my stove...not an actual toilet brush, just a scrub brush she uses for the toilet!! yuck!!!!).  

My kids are going to Germany next year.  Or, at least they're planning on it.  They are getting their passports soon and are going to be working on saving money until then so they have plenty of money to bring with them.  Neither one has been on a plane before, nor have they ever been out of the country.  And both have severe anxiety.  But all their friends live in other countries, most in the UK, and they are all meeting up next summer for a concert, which they all bought tickets for.  And they'll be sharing an AirBnB in Germany for however long.  

Am I worried?  Oh yes.  I am terrified.  But I can't let my own anxiety dictate their lives.  They are adults and while they live under our care, they are still in charge of their own lives.  And I had always planned on taking an airplane at their age to go somewhere, but I never did, and now, I never will.  I don't want them to live with regret of not even trying.  Granted, it may come down to the wire and they may not go, but that's okay.  At least they tried.  And they will get loads of life experience from now until then doing what they need to do in order to go.  So that's worth something, too.  

Anxiety sucks.  And being autistic you will always have anxiety.  It's makes up a part of who you are.  My husband and I and both kids have it (ASD), as does my ex, my hubby's parents, and both my birthparents.  And, I do suspect my mother has it, too.  It would explain a lot (ASD mixed with NPD is never good).  It will manifest in different ways for different autistics, but there's always some, somewhere in our lives.  For many of us, it's constant.  My oldest son got on meds at 17 and it changed his life.  I tried meds after that (I have a phobia of taking medication) and none worked for me and some I have very bad reactions to (not like allergic reactions, but brain reactions--like hearing voices--yay me!).  In fact, the meds my son is on are the ones who give me the bad reactions.  Good thing he didn't inherit whatever DNA I have that causes that part.  My hubby's on meds, too, but they don't work for him as much as they do for our oldest.   My youngest is on meds, but very minor ones that also help him sleep.  And I am on nothing.  But my oldest has fast acting meds (not xanax, thank goodness) that work wonders for him when he's having breakthrough panic attacks, so that will help him on the plane ride over.  

Right now I am fully accepting we spent money on these tickets and they won't end up going.  I fully expect that.  But see...I am not like my mother.  I will not squash his (or either of their) dreams just because the most likely scenario won't work out for them going.  I want to give my children wings, not keep them in a cage (though the cage is nice and calm and safe and peaceful, but still).  I refuse to tell them "Hey, you know you won't go anyways, so why waste the money??".  But the thing is, I don't actually know that.  I can make an educated guess, sure.  But that doesn't make it real or fact.  I want to keep my brain in the "What if they actually go?" mode.  And how wonderful that would be for them.  How memorable it would be.  How they'd have that story to add to their life story to tell their grandchildren one day (or someone's grandkids-I can't predict if they will have kids of their own or not).  That's the mode I will stay in.  I will do everything to help them actually go.  I will remind them renew their licenses, get their passports, apply for jobs, etc.  I will be fucking supportive, goddammit!  Even though every fiber of my being is terrified of them doing something so big.  

The first time they went somewhere on their own was going to the grocery store with our neighbor on bikes.  The entire time I was TERRIFIED and almost cried.  Yes, I am so horribly anxious that I could not stop pacing at my window, waiting for them to come home.  And they were fine.  

The first time I left them home alone, due to the fact my mother refused to watch them, even though they were old enough to take care of themselves and entertain themselves, I was glued to my phone the entire time.  "What if they burn the house down?"  "What if someone breaks in?"  "What if they hurt each other?"  I was more scared of them fighting than anything, but they didn't.  And twice a month, during our anxiety support group meetings (funny, right?) for the next four years, they stayed home alone from then on, and never once broke anything, got hurt, and nobody broke in.  

Now, could something bad have happened either of those times?  Yes, of course.  And my kids could go to Germany next year and never come back, too.  But, they run that risk every time they leave the house, with or without me.  They could also get covid and bring it home with them.  There are a million scenarios in which terrible things could happen to any of at any given moment.  But, I can't let that be what motivates me to stop them from going to the country they've always wanted to see and to see a band in their home country that they love so dearly.  I can't be my mother, my father, my mother-in-law, or my father-in-law.  I can't be a shitty parent who lets my own fears and my own bullshit stop my kids from doing things in life.  

Look at me.  I am 46 years old and I am scared of everything.  I was taught to be scared of everything.  I was told I couldn't be anything in life or do anything in life.  I was kept down by my parents' fears and judgments.  And I missed out on so much.  Granted, I didn't miss out on being a mom (I've enjoyed all of it).  And I don't actually regret my life at all.  But still.  I can't let my own bullshit give my kids regrets, either.  Granted, if they choose not to go, I have to let them know it's not something to regret.  That someone else will fill it's place in their lives.  Maybe someone else.  Life happens either way and living with regret is not something anyone should do (unless you've done assholey things-but then you make amends so you can stop regretting it).  

I am okay with them going or not going.  I don't care how much money they waste.  They will try to push themselves out of their comfort zones.  They will test themselves to see what they're ready to do, or not.  And that's life experience all its own.  

I am terrified of them going.  But I will do what I always do in times of terrible fear: I will will sit and disassociate until they come back LMAO.  Then when they call and say "Come get us from the airport", I will let out the breath I will have been holding and all will be well again.  But that's what being a real parent is: Facing your fears by letting your kids be their own people.  And encouraging them to do so, even though it's terrifying.  

Next week we'll be getting my youngest son's new ID (his is expired) so they can work on getting their passports.  Then my oldest will be looking for a full-time so they can save money to go.  

So much change.  But that's a good thing.  We need change right now.  And this will be the stepping stone to get there, even if they don't end up going (who knows if they'll even like the people they'll be going with by then).  

Sigh.  Now it's time to relax and not think about it until I have to.  

Her: WHAT DID YOU ORDER?!  (she screams while waving her hands around, holding a box)

Me: I have no idea what you're talking about.  (I assumed she meant on Amazon?  But how did she know I ordered something on Amazon and what on earth would she be angry about?)

Her: WHAT DID YOU ORDER??!

Me: I am still confused here.  What are you talking about?

Her: I THOUGHT YOU ORDERED TEST STRIPS!  THEY SENT ME NEEDLES!

Me: What?  They sent you diabetic needles?  You don't even take insulin.  You take pills.  (I grab the box she ripped open from the bottom, with lancets falling out).  Ma, these are finger prickers.  They aren't needles.  They always send you these with your test strips.  

Her: NO THEY DON'T!

Me: Yes.  They do.  Here (I hand her the box of test strips from her pile of medicine in my room).  I just gave you the wrong box.  Sorry.

Her: Oh.  I'll just take these back and throw my old ones away.  

Me: Why?  They don't expire.  There is nothing wrong with them.  Just keep your old ones and I will give you this box when you run out.  

Her: (goes back into her room mumbling to herself)

There are days I wonder if she has dementia, then there are days like this.  I still can't say for sure it's 100% dementia (as she's on a lot of meds that mess with your memory--things her old neurologist wanted her to get off of, but she can't), but I can surely say that she has confusion attacks.  Though she will go through certain periods of time with more confusion attacks on a regular basis, and other periods of time where she seems fine.  That's the way of certain dementias, especially vascular.  But like I said before: vascular is over diagnosed and many people who have been diagnosed are found to have not had it after their deaths (from post mortem investigation).  

But whatever is causing the confusion and freaking out and forgetting, it doesn't matter.  My mother has memory issues, but more than that, she has understanding issues.  She doesn't understand most things anymore.  Which is one reason she can't see her doctors alone.  She doesn't understand when I tell her things or when she reads something online.  She gets so confused about things and sometimes, like this time, she gets angry about them.  I never yell back at her when she's mad about something (though her anger to my face has been few and far between lately, thank goodness) because I never know why she's mad.  Is it confusion?  Or is she just being a bitch?  She's not a bitch anymore, thank goodness. so I assume it's always confusion that's causing it.  Before, it was always her just being cruel or mean or rude or judgmental (aka, being a bitch).  But she's so much better now.  Not because she's "changed" due to some sort of self-introspection, but more due to the fact I've taken away everything she can bitch about so there's nothing left.  Also, she's nicer because she's scared of what I will do: like put her in a nursing home or have her committed if she's violent (which is what I told her I'd do if she was ever violent with me, or anyone else, again-and she knows I don't threaten anything, I tell the truth of what I will actually do).  

While I don't like being yelled at or accused of doing something wrong (which is exactly what she was doing here--accusing me ordering the wrong thing--rather than just inform me that I gave her the wrong thing), I am finding that I don't give two shits anymore.  Ever since I gave up needing to be on top of every single correspondence of hers that she has with people outside our house, for fear of them talking shit about me or planning something behind my back, I have chilled out on most things with her.  I just don't fucking care anymore.  Did I not please her with what I did for her?  I don't care.  Did I make her mad because (insert bullshit here)?  I don't care.  Did I do something wrong in her eyes?  I just don't fucking care.  I am not sure if I am turning a permanent corner or a partial (and temporary) one, but a corner has been turned.  

And I am glad.  My mother is batshit crazy, but I am her caretaker.  So, while I stopped caring about whether or not she approves of me as a human and a daughter, I am now getting her requests done faster and on time, rather than before when I'd let being overwhelmed take over and I'd take forever to get her anything or do something for her.  Now, most things are done same day.  I have stopped caring and in turn, my caretaking has gotten better.  And I think that's because I see this more as a job now than an obligation.  She's not anywhere as mean or as bad to me anymore, so I can learn to let it go and stop caring about it and just get the job done.  

Again, this could be a temporary or permanent way of feeling, I don't know.  But it's something.  And I am glad for the change.