Today was her one week follow-up with her podiatrist after last week's surgery.  And per usual she called me an hour before we were supposed to leave to remind me to leave.  And then she called again, to ask why I hadn't called yet.  See, I was supposed to call when we were almost there so they could bring her out.  I used to think she didn't trust me to get things done, now I know exactly what the issue is.  

She has obsessive anxiety.  It's like OCD, but more just like obsessive thoughts about things she has to keep reminding people about.  I realized this because she was bugging the nurses all day long about it.  I had already called by the time she called me and we were out front.  I used to think she was just a crazy bitch (though, she kind of is LOL), but now I know she's severely anxious and obsessive.  

For the first time I saw it wasn't just me she does this to.  The other part of it is that she has be involved in every little thing that's going on.  If she's not, then she gets upset.  Especially if it's about her.  Like, I'm talking to her nurse and she's in the background running her mouth about what I'm saying, so she's getting talked at in both ears.  I wanted to tell the nurse to just leave the room and let her sit there while I tell her what she wanted to know.  But I didn't want to sound like a jerk complaining about her behavior. 

But then today happened. 

Oh good lord, she was in a ripe mood.  She was obsessing all morning about this appointment.  Then we get there, and there's a bus for a nursing home loading up a patient in front of us.  They were being slow, but they have to be, to make sure the patient was secure in the bus and wasn't going to roll around.  But ma was having none of it.  "OH MY GOD!  GEEZUS!  HURRY UP!!"  I kept saying "They haven't brought out the wheelchair yet, so there's no hurry."  She complained and complained and complained. 

And then just opened the fucking door and tried to get out.  

Let me remind you, she only has one usable foot.  Let me also remind you, she is a HUGE fall risk on two feet.  And here she is, trying to hop her ass out of the car (like literally hop--she's obsessed now with hopping, because her PT taught her how to hop on one foot) up the curbing!  I started freaking out and jumped out of the backseat screaming "MA!!  GET BACK IN THE CAR!!!  WHERE ARE YOU EVEN GOING?"  If she steps on her foot that had surgery on, she could mess up everything the surgery did.  She's supposed to stay off of it for at least four weeks. 

So I run around to her side and the nurse with the wheelchair comes out and we both kept saying "You can't lift yourself into a wheelchair up onto a curb, so get back in the car!"  She kept screaming "NO! I CAN DO THIS!  THIS IS WHAT THEY ARE TRAINING ME FOR!  TO DO THINGS BY MYSELF!!"  She's referring to her physical therapy.  And no, they are not "training her" to jump around in a parking lot alone and up a curb.  She has bad knees.  Like, so bad, they go out on her regularly.  So hopping around on a bad knee is just ludicrous.  But she's having a meltdown now, and refuses to get back into the car.  

She was so freaking agitated.  But the nurse told her enough times to get back in the car and she finally did.  The nurse looked at me and widened her eyes at me, and I just threw up my hands and said "ARRRGGGHHH!" and she laughed.  I do like when someone else experiences her behavior.  So it's provable and she can't lie and say she didn't do it, like usual.  

So we get her out, we go inside and now mother is calm, because her meltdowns are pretty "in the moment".  She gets her foot rewrapped and we go to leave and now all the wind is knocked out of her and she's all tuckered out like a little kid after a meltdown.  She's panicky now, and allows me to lift her into the car.  She's freaking out, scared she's going to fall, but I kept telling her "I have you, I will not let you fall, trust me."  And she did.  She has never once let me help her before.  Not once.  She will grab anything but me when she needs help.  Then she started having a laryngeal spasm, and couldn't breathe.  I told her "It's okay, mom, just relax and it will go away faster.  I know it's scary, I get these a lot, but just relax and it will stop."  She did and it stopped and we had a pleasant ride back to the rehab center.  Though as I put her in the car, she grabbed the white strap around her chest, the one the rehab center put on her before she left, the one she asked "Oh do you guys need this back?" and they informed her "No, leave it on until you come back."  So as she grabbed it, she looked down at it and said "Oh, who's is this?"  I said "That's the white strap they use to lift you with."  She said "Yeah, but who's is it?"  She couldn't remember fifteen minutes earlier (it was a FAST appointment) the center telling her to wear it.  I felt so bad when she said that, as it reminded me of my grandmother when she had dementia.

We dropped her off and I took the nurse aside to tell her about her agitation and what she tried to do at the doctor's office and about the phone call a couple days ago about her hopping around her room by herself.  That scared the crap out of her, because she had no idea.  I told her she thought she was pulling one over on you guys but was caught by a nurse and got yelled at.  Apparently nobody told this head nurse about this and she was really worried.  But I also warned her about her agitation, and if it's a part of her dementia, that it could come out randomly. 

So today was a strange day.  We'll have to put the child locks on next week when she gets her stitches out.  I never thought in a million years she'd just try to escape from the car.  At least we were in park and not driving.  Now we have to work on our basement door and get the new doorknob installed so she doesn't try to get down there.  (UPDATE: my hubby took her to this next appointment alone, and she was fine, thank goodness)

Her obsessive behavior is getting worse with her dementia (which also includes her narcissism getting worse, too).  She's always been obsessive, but now it's getting to the point of putting her in danger (though, she's always kind of done dangerous things).  So yay.  Her coming home is going to be a little crazy, and I hope it gets better after she's home for a bit.  But I don't know.  People with dementia tend to have a downward spiral after being put somewhere new, like a home (or with mother, a rehab center), so I have no idea who the person will be who's coming back.  We might have an issue on our hands.  Hopefully not, but we'll see. 

My mother's been in physical rehab for five days now.  I've talked to her twice (the kids talked to her on the other days), and it was actually nice.  We'd chat and laugh and talk about the good food she's eating.  I thought, stupidly as usual, maybe this is a turnaround?  Maybe we can have fun talking to each other now?  

What the fuck is wrong with me?  Why do we, who have narc parents, think they are capable of change?  Even this far into the game, you'd think I'd know better by now LOL  But alas, I sometimes still get sucked back in.  So she calls today and proceeds to tell me she has a list for me.  I rolled my eyes and thought "Here we go again."  

The past four or five days, I've had a cervicogenic headache.  I never knew these existed, even though I've had them several times.  I've always had neck pain with migraines (sometimes really severe) but now I have pain at the base of my skull and down my neck, into my shoulders and back.  Like BAD.  So googled "Can you get a migraine in the base of your skull?"  Because I have migraine symptoms with this, too.  I'm dizzy, nauseous, and have had extreme anxiety.  Everything I get with migraines.  So I assumed it was a migraine.  Before, when the pain was bad enough to see a doctor, I said "I have arthritis in my neck, can this cause my migraines?"  He said "Oh no, it's just your neck muscles, just stretch them out."  This was a couple years ago.  Turns out, arthritis can cause cervicogenic headaches, and you can get migraine symptoms with them.  Ugh, doctors are so annoying sometimes.

So for the past four days, I've been in so much pain, I can barely cook or do much of anything at all.  I was getting worried.  And then I wondered if the pain was caused by the ungodly amount of stress I put myself through the day before my mom had surgery and the day of.  Not because I was worried about the surgery, I knew that would work out fine.  But nobody seemed to know if she was going to go into rehab 100%, and there was no way I could take care of her.  So I thought maybe this was a discharge of all that adrenaline and cortisol I was feeling pumping through my body for those two days.  Turns out, it was just a coincidence (but I am sure it didn't help).

Anyways, my point is, I only talked to her the first two days because after that I have been unable to even bring myself to call her because I didn't feel like talking to anyone at all.  So I had my kids call her to chat, which she loved.  But today, she calls me and and not only "has a list for me", but also starts in on some rant about how I have to get the covid vaccine and I told her I can't, as it's only like "stage one" in our town, where only doctors and medical people get it, as well as nursing home patients.  She kept arguing with me about it and I wanted to scream "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING, SO WHY DO YOU THINK YOU DO??"  Because that's how she is.  She gets a silly idea in her head, and then she obsesses about it, until someone gets angry with her enough to tell her to knock it off.  But I didn't say anything and we were interrupted by her nurse, thank god.  She also then told me she had a list of things for me to do.  I am not in a mood right now to be antagonized with how much pain I'm in, so I just didn't call her back.  

But she called me back, and instead of giving me a list, she bragged about how she got up and moved around without any help.  Which is a HUGE NO NO, because it hasn't even been a week since her surgery (and she's a freaking fall risk, which she KNOWS).  She ended up having all the nurses in her room yelling at her, which she found humorous.  I did not.  So normally I just ignore her when she talks about her stupid antics (and she does this a LOT...she does something really, really stupid and then brags about it to everyone that'll listen).  But today, I got angry.  I said "So, you want to stay there longer?  Because that's how you break a bone."  She then giggled and said more about how she does what she wants and I said "Oh, so you think it's cute when you do stupid things?  Is that it?  Or are you just trying to annoy me?  Because it's not cute and you've sufficiently annoyed me.  I am not there.  I cannot stop you from doing these things.  So why tell me about it?  Because it's not funny nor is it cute."  She then asked me "Why are you so angry?"  Like she was honestly confused why it pissed me off.  I said because this is what what I am going to look forward to when she gets home if she can't even listen to her doctors and nurses in the hospital.  She can't take a complete authority and listen to them, how the hell is she ever going to listen to me? 

I think I'm just going to tell her every time she brags about her antics "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.  You're choosing to put yourself in danger and you're going to be the one to pay the price for it."  Like I've said, she's already broken two bones this year because she does things without thinking or caring about her own safety.  Things she was told not to do already.  And unlike her, when she does these stupid things, and I threaten to stop her from being able to do it again (like, when I told her I'd get our mail sent to the post office instead of at home when she refused to listen to me that her walking out to get the mail was dangerous for her, since she falls ALL the time--she thinks I'm full of it, but I don't mind putting a hold on our mail, but she did stop walking out there, thank goodness), I mean it.  She likes to threaten things at me and my kids that make no sense and things she'd never do in a million years.  Like grandiose things.  Something a five year old would say, thinking they are "big" when they say it.

She wants the world to think she's a badass.  That she lives by her own rules and does whatever she wants, whenever she wants.  And I know she's going to have one hell of a meltdown when she gets home and finds out she no longer has control of anything in her life.  

Because see, my husband and I have made the decision that she cannot make decisions for herself or her finances anymore.  Perhaps, she shouldn't have been for years.  She lets life insurances lapse, and even her car insurance.  I also found she's been messing up her medication and been making dubious purchases online (and off).  She gets an idea in her head and runs with it, rather than thinking it out and realizing it's a bad choice.  These are all signs her dementia is progressing.  Not to mention she hides things from me, just so she can get away with something that's really bad for her (like buying medication online that she had no idea what it does or what it's even for).  Also, she gets out her debit card every time she answers the phone and some idiot is telling her that she owes them money (scammers).  So I've been changing everything over to accounts I control, so I can make sure her bills are paid on time (automatic withdrawal is so awesome), that she doesn't stop paying on stuff she needs to pay on, and so she doesn't buy random things on the internet.  I have also set up parental controls on her computer she can't buy things without my permission.  I am her power of attorney (for both medical and financial), and I had hoped that when the time came to enact my PoA superpowers, it would be when she was really far gone with her dementia.  But no, she has enough of her mind left that it's going to be a BIG problem when she finds out.  And I am stressing out trying to get it all done before she gets home.  

So to lessen the stress of everything for both her, but mostly me, we decided to try this new thing with her.  It's called "grandma of the house".   It means that we're going to present to her the different dynamics in our house, because the way we've been doing it hasn't been working.  For my entire life, my mother has been in the position of "woman of the house", meaning she has all the power.  Even when I was an adult, she'd march into my house and act as though she was the woman of the house (my house) and my role was just to be her lackey.  Sames goes for her friends.  She's the boss, they are the minions, just as she views me.  So now that she's going to be gone for a bit, I am going to step into my role as "woman of the house".  And my mother is "grandma of the house".  I am the boss.  As is my husband, as he is "man of the house" (though she sees my hubby as "man of the house" already, which is so uncomfortable she thinks of herself as "woman of the house").  Our kids are "men of dominion".  Meaning, they are in control of their own choices, and their own lives (I don't really call them that LOL It's a fancy way of saying "they're grown-ass men").  They aren't the "man of the house" yet, as they do not have their own households to control, but they are certainly in control of their own spaces and their own lives.  They are not kids, and should not be treated as children, as much as my mother wants to treat them that way.  

So we all have our new roles, and my mother is going to step into her role as "grandma of the house", whether she wants to or not, she won't have a choice.  She is no longer in charge of anything (which means she'll have nothing to threaten me with--though she will try, watch), other than her own room.  I will be in charge of her cats (cat food, litter, healthcare, etc.--I've already been in charge of those things, but she refuses to pay for healthcare for some of her cats, which she will no longer have that choice anymore).  I will be in charge of paying her bills and and all the other stuff I already do, but now with the added parts of me being in charge of the house's furniture, the yard, and everything else that she would step on my toes constantly to try to take charge of and not let me have any say-so in.  I am tired of doing ALL the fucking work, and yet, I do not feel like I am living in my own house.  I feel like a ghost who haunts the halls only whenever I am needed to leave my room.  

With this new dynamic, I will no longer have to hide anymore.  I will make time for my mother to ramble off whatever she needs to ramble off about to me, but I will also make sure I have my own space when I need it, wherever I am at in my house.  For I am the "woman of the house" (though we're not hung up on gender labels with this, so you could be "whatever you want of the house" if you adopt the same dynamics in your house, just as long as you're the leader of your own life), and I will demand my own space without letting her always invade mine.  

Sound stupid, I know, creating a label for something that should be automatic.  But you have a narc mom, don't you?  And are you allowed to be an adult in your own life?  Or does your mother try to be your boss and tell you what you can and cannot do, even though you're a grown-ass adult?  Even if the label is just symbolic, you don't want to say it out loud, you can think it, and it will make you feel more powerful.  "I am (whatever) of the house, I will not let her control my life". 

What will her role be, you ask?  Well, "grandma of the house" doesn't concern herself with appointments we make, and if my husband will have enough time to get to work (she's obsessed with my husband and this is one of her obsessions).  GOTH (haha I just realized that what word it makes when abbreviated) doesn't concern herself with bills or finances.  GOTH doesn't concern herself with what my kids are doing or if my youngest is getting his license or not yet (she hasn't mentioned this lately, but she used to be obsessed with it).  GOTH doesn't make choices for how to decorate the house (she can decorate her room if she likes though and we'll give her any help she needs).  GOTH doesn't rearrange things that aren't hers (something she does a LOT).  GOTH also doesn't decide where things go in the kitchen or decide what groceries to buy (though she can ask for whatever she likes when I do go grocery shopping).  GOTH doesn't tell us when we need to mow or shovel (and cannot make threats when we don't do things the moment she thinks we should do them).  GOTH doesn't tell me when to clean the garage or how to organize the garage or when to burn the cardboard I save for burning (I keep them in the garage).  Things like that.  GOTH doesn't worry about anything (though you know she will anyways), and she will be reminded of this when she opens her mouth to say something about what she thinks others should be doing. 

What can GOTH do then?  These are GOTH's twilight years.  It's her job to enjoy them.  It's her job to sit back, relax, have fun, play games, enjoy good weather (and anything she wants to enjoy), laugh with her family, and leaving a wonderful memory behind.  That last part will be hard, but that will be her goal, whether she likes it or not.  I want her life to be happy.  But more so, I want my fucking life to be happy.  I want my husband and kids to be happy.  I want everyone to enjoy this time when we are forced to have her in our care, because who knows how long it'll be.  So we need clear roles to play in this house.  Right, everything is muddled and confused.  It always has been.  She's been trying to hold onto her role as WOTH (woman of the house), even when it's not her house, for her entire life.  But she's just not the woman of the house anymore.  It's time she's accepted that.  But more so, it's time I accepted it.  It's time I stepped into that role and owned it, even if she is going to fight me for it.  She can fight all she wants, but she's not in the position to win anymore.  I've let her win for too long.  

So, I am in charge of my own life now.  And she's included in that, as I am her caretaker.  My husband is also in charge of his life, as are our children.  She will be taken care of, because she needs to be.  that will be her role.  Grandma of the house gets to sit back, and relax, and just enjoy life.   

I know, she won't ease into this role easily.  It will be forced upon her.  And I am not looking forward to that.  But it has to be this way.  There is no other choice.  I've been miserable WAY too long.  And now it's time I stepped into the role that should have been mine years ago (but lack of money and poor mental health--I have a severe anxiety disorder, have made it so she easily had access to my life to control me with both).  I am so happy to have this break so I can get everything done and actually feel like for once since moving in that this is my house.  Since April, I've felt like I've been stuck back with my cousin Mindy who held us hostage in her house after she caused us to become homeless (which to me, is kind of like getting abducted).  And I don't want to feel that way anymore.  

I've been standing up to her more lately.  Which makes me feel great.  I just want to feel even better. I want to feel normal again.  Or even better than my normal.  A new normal.  A normal where I am actually in charge of my own damn life.

Even if she never stops giving me a hard time about it all, I know it's the right thing to do, to protect both her and my family.  And I'll politely remind her that it isn't "grandma of the house's" job to (insert whatever she's mouthing off about here).  This way, I be polite, yet assertive and not engage her in arguing.  

Yeah, so wish me luck.  I wish I could say it will be easier than I think it will be, but this is my mother we're talking about.  I know how she works.  And it's going to be so much worse.  But I'll just smack a big smile on my face and say "Well, remember, grandma of the house is a good girl who doesn't bug me about this stuff 😁".  This way I can shut her down without being rude. 

I just hope it works *wink* 

UPDATE: June 2021

Well, it worked.  A little too well, actually.  Now she's not only GOTH as in "grandma of the house", but "ghost of the house", too.  She doesn't completely abide by her monthly spending account, but mostly she does.  She gets $200 a month--not accumulating.  Each month we put the account back up to $200.  That's her spending money--I buy her food, her clothes, her nutritional stuff, her meds, her shoes, even her cigarettes.  She gets $200 to spend on what she likes.  Most adults do not even have that much to spend.  She HATED it at first, but she's grown accustomed to it.  She's grown accustomed to everything, mostly.  She will still bitch, moan, and complain about stuff sometimes, but mostly it's not a big deal.  

I am so very, VERY happy I did this.  Thank freaking god.  We even finally have a savings account now!  Even though it was nerve wracking, it really worked.  Whoo hoo! 

So tomorrow she's going in for surgery.  And my anxiety is through the roof.  Not because of the surgery itself.  Though that does scare me a little.  But more so because of what's going to be happening during this at least six week period after.  See, I am taking complete and total control of her finances.  And now she's hidden her debit and credit cards from me.  I assume they will be in her luggage.  I hope.  But I need to get up early to pat her down before she goes, because she thinks that she's taking them with her.  I have no idea why.  I assume it's so I don't take them from her, but even if she succeeds, I will still still report them all as lost and get new ones, pay off her credit cards and then close her accounts.  After she comes home, I will give her an allowance each month, but that's it.  She will not have access to her money otherwise.  

Recently, she's been buying random things in on the internet, not caring if her bills are getting paid.  And using her credit card, almost maxing out her $4,000 limit on bullshit.  If she does tomorrow, there will be no life insurance (another bill she stopped paying on, and rather than pay that one up, she got a new one, which started over and now won't be in effect for TWO YEARS).  And I will be stuck paying all her credit cards.  Rather than get her a new bank account to use for her allowance, I think I'm going to get her a prepaid debit card (like a money card you reload).  I am not sure what's best to use for that.  Any suggestions will be helpful.  But anyways, another thing she does is answer the phone no matter who calls.  And they're always people from India calling to tell her she owes them money.  And I will walk in and she will have her debit card out, ready to pay.  Other times, she's bought random medication off the internet, and pet medicine that she has no idea what it does.  It's all random and just her crazy brain saying "Oh!  I need to buy this!"  I think I may even put parental controls on her computer, to keep her from applying for more credit and from buying things.  

But right now, I am having bad anxiety because she thinks she's pulling one over on me with hiding her credit cards from me.  I hope I can find them so I don't have to miss any when I pay them off and cancel them.  Ugh.  And I think much of my anxiety is stemming from the talk I'm going to have with her about it all.  Eventually she'll relent.  But I know how she is.  When I took her keys away, it was months of asking for them back.  When I forbid her going in the basement, it was months and months of her asking to go down there.  When I stopped her from walking out to get the mail (she falls, a LOT, and has broken two bones in 12 months), she didn't put up that much of a fight, instead, she just did it.  Until I threatened to stop getting the mail at our house.  And that's still on the table for when after she heals from surgery, because it's not her foot that made it dangerous, it's her body.  She does not walk straight and falls easily.  

The thing is, I am too anxious right now to be happy.  I know should be happy.  About six ENTIRE weeks without her.  I can relax for the first time in, well, since creating this blog (when she stopped talking to me for a couple months).  That was in 2012.  Almost nine years ago.  Even my year and a half stint going no-contact with her wasn't relaxing in the least.  She still harassed me during that time and I still had nightmares about her every single night.  I even feared leaving my house.  Even when we moved 500 miles away!  But this six coming weeks will hopefully be bliss (unless she calls constantly).  And here I am, not exited, just fearing what's to come.  Ugh.  Though I now I will enjoy it.  And I will find my courage and I will get the things done that need to be done.

I also live in fear something will fall through and she'll have to come home early and I will be stuck living in total hell taking care of her.  I don't think that's possible, but it's still a fear I have.  

Ugh.  I just want tomorrow to come, everything to work out, and I will be able to breathe and relax.  *deep breath*  This is my break.  This is my time to heal from all I've had to put up with since April (and before).  This will be hopefully be grand.  Let's just cross our fingers that it all works out, okay?  

Eeek. 

So ma is having an outpatient surgery this coming week and then she'll be in a rehab center for over a month because there is no way we can care for her in our home afterwards (she won't be able to walk for over four weeks).  

Can I say I am a tad bit giddy at the idea of having my house to myself for over a month?  Or maybe more than a little? LOL  But I'm trying not to get that excited because it may not happen (because you know how these things go) and also she's going completely under, which is a little scary for her.  

Also, can I say she's been more than a tad bit crazy these past weeks due to the looming surgery?  One way she's being odd is that she keeps buying shit.  I'm almost ready to get on her Amazon account and remove her debit card from it.  The other day this freaking gigantic air fryer shows up.  She claims I wanted one.  I did not.  Nor did I want that monstrosity in the house.  There is absolutely no room for it.  And she has a knack for buying me complicated shit to do more work with (like she bought me a clothesline thingy put in the ground for my birthday this past year...I'd have to carry our wet ass laundry from the basement, all through our hilly-ass yard to go and dry and then carry it all back in again).  Now that we're sending the air fryer back, she claims to my kids and hubby she's buying me a pasta maker.  OMFG.  I do not want a pasta maker, nor have I ever wanted one.  I used to have one.  I made pasta once and realized it was too much work, so I got rid of it.  Oh wait, no I used it for Fimo.  Then I got rid of it.  She keeps buying shit like she's made of dolla bills, y'all.  

Then we have the meltdowns.  She screamed at me because the one rehab center was reviewed as "the nurses talk about the patients, which breaks hipaa law".  So she was freaking the fuck out about it and I said to her calmly "Listen, of all things to be scared of, this is one you can let go, because in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter."  She screamed at me that just because it doesn't matter to me doesn't mean it doesn't matter and blah blah blah.  She refused to listen to me and kept interrupting me so I got loud and said "I will talk to you when you can stop interrupting me" and I left the room.  Now, one could say that she was just freaking out about the minor stuff because she can't face the big stuff, but my mother gets fixated on shit that has something to do with her.  And she related this to herself because she used to be a CNA (for literally like two freaking days before quitting) and she wasn't allowed to talk about patients, so therefore these nurses at this rehab center (Central Rehab we'll call it) shouldn't be able to do it either.  I have no idea what to say to her when she's being insane like that.  So I walk away. 

Later, when she brought that crazy contraption to me in the living room (that's another story about why we were in the living room, but that's coming next), I told her I found her a new rehab.  A smaller one, a nicer one, and a highly rated one.  RATHER THAN SAY FUCKING THANK YOU she looks at me and says "Oh, I wish I were going to Central".  Oh.  My.  Fucking.  God.  Even my son rolled his eyes and said "Wow, you really can't win with her, can you?"  

So why we were in the living room.  I woke up two days ago with a really bad migraine.  Like the kind you want to get up and pace around because it hurts so bad.  You can't do anything when that happens.  And my migraines are usually only this bad like 1-2 times a year, if that.  So, my mother has an obsession with coming into my room.  Like busting in, sometimes without even knocking, but even when she knocks she doesn't wait, she just busts in.  So I bought a lock.  Then she started taking to waiting until my husband got up to get ready for the day and then she knew the door wasn't locked and would bust in then.  She's like my dog.  He found out that if he goes outside and barks and refuses to come in, we'll lure him in with snacks.  We had to nip that in the bud because I don't need a little fat ass pomeranian who's loaded up on so many snacks he won't be able to get down the stairs without assistance.  Now I attached a eye loop to the house and he's chained so I can just pull him when he barks too much.  The point is, my mother and our dog have figured out the loopholes and the ways to get what they want while manipulating those in charge.  You set boundaries and parameters for me?  Oh, watch me find a way around them!  Damn those sneaky old grandmas and crazy little dogs!  

Anyways, so my mother has found her way around the rules and sneaks in anyways.  So two days ago, my husband went to the bathroom (he had a migraine too, but his was getting better, mine was not) and my mother knocked and immediately opened my door without me answering.  I jumped out of bed and said "Just a minute!"  She quit opening the door, but did not close it.  She said "I need to come in."  I said "I'm getting dressed."  She then replied "Oh god, you don't have anything I haven't seen before!"  And when I heard her say this, my stomach started boiling.  I hate that she thinks she has ownership of my body.  I almost forgot that she thinks this.  She obviously thinks she has ownership of my room.  She always has thought she's had ownership of whatever space I am taking up at the moment.  Meaning she will walk into a room in the middle of whatever I am doing: talking to someone else, playing a video game, writing, or working on something and make the moment be completely about her.  She interrupts me and other people speaking, because she believes she has rights to take over every situation.  She has no boundaries.  And if you tell her she's interrupting, she will get PISSED.  Though I tell her all the time now.  Because I've dealt with this my entire life with her and I am beyond done with her behavior.  So she says this thing to me, this thing that suggests she can tell me when and where she can see my naked body and I should not have any say so.  No, I was not naked, but that's what she was suggesting (she thought I was undressing).  So I walked up to the door, slammed it shut and locked it and got back into bed.  Because fuck that.  

So because of this "busting into my room" thing, my husband has taken to body blocking her.  Last week, she tried to push past him to get into our room after she woke us up and he answered the door because she wanted me to take a phone call.  I didn't need to take the call, I could have easily called them back.  But she wanted me to talk to them right NOW.  I was groggy and could not take the call, so he blocked her from pushing him out of the way and said "Back up."  And then shut the door and told her I was sleeping and I'd call them back later.  She did not like this.  So she punished us by taking the call and making the appointment for six in the morning, just so my husband would have to get up really early to take her...even though he works a late shift and won't get much sleep that day.  He's blocked her several times the past month, because for some reason she thinks she owns me, my time, my body, my space, and now she knows my husband will stop her if he's the one who gets to her first.  Not like in a mean way LOL  But more like "Sorry, she's busy/sleeping/doesn't feel weel, etc." And since Mr. Brooks is her favorite person in the universe (she kind of treats him like she's his wife, not me...it's gross and he hates it), she won't yell at him.  

So, migraine day, she tries to come in the room, he said "Shay has a horrible migraine and can't move.  She'll come out and talk to you when she's feeling better.  Otherwise, you can tell me and I can help you."  She just flat out ignored him.  So he walked away and went to the store to get water (my mother refuses to drink our filtered water and wants only bottled).  THE MOMENT our front door shut, my mother got up from her chair and came to my door and literally begged me to open the door and she wanted to come in.  Not in a sad way, but in her childish sing-song nightmare fuel voice she uses regularly on me.  I was shocked she just so brazenly ignored my husband's wishes and did it anyways, so I ignored her.  My head hurt, I was not going to get up, once again, to deal with her.  This was "trying to get into my room #3".  First she knocked to wake us up.  Then she tried to get in while he was brushing his teeth, and now this.  So I texted my husband and told him and said "I have to pee, but now I am being held prisoner in the room!" LOL  

So I got up to get food and pee (or pee first, because that would be silly otherwise) and I went to her room and said, food in hand "Okay, what did you need?"  She said "Go back to your room and lay down and I'll come in there and tell you."  I looked at the food in my hand and said "Ma, I am eating.  I am not going to lay down, what do you need?"  She then slammed her hands on her desk and screamed "NEVERMIND!"  I was bewildered, but also used to her insane tantrums.  This isn't new.  This isn't the dementia.  This is her.  Always has been.  She's erratic and her moods swing further and faster than a monkey on a vine.  I said "I am confused."  She glared at me and said "SO AM I!"  I said "Well, you have no reason to be confused, I am standing here wondering what you needed so badly all morning.  So tell me."  She then proceeded to tell me how horrible Central Rehab sounded.  And the whole hipaa law bullshit.  So this is why I changed her rehab.  It was bothering her enough to try to get into my room FOUR times now (this time was just verbal...though I know her obsession with being in my room as a) she hates boundaries and b) she can't be in my room, so she wants it even more).  And then when I changed to a nicer place that was higher rated, she didn't say thank you, but "I wish I could go to Central".  

Geezus.  Fucking.  Christ.  

Have I mentioned back when we first moved in and didn't have a lock I'd wake up to find her standing over me?  Or that when she goes into my room she looks through my stuff and makes comments about everything?  Like strangely insulting comments.  "Oh wow.  You have a lot of books.  I am not sure I'd ever want that many books in my room."  (I have a bookshelf and it's full of books...what else am I supposed to put in there??)  Shit like that.  So I've been taking to leaving my room when she's in it and not going back in until she leaves.  When that didn't work, I just stopped letting her in.  And now she's obsessed with being in my room.  Yesterday, my son knocks on my door and says "Can I come in?" and my mother screams from the kitchen "She never lets me in there!"  Yes, for the past week, I haven't let you in.  So that equates to NEVER.  *sigh*  

Yesterday, I did her laundry (as I always do) and then brought up my suitcase.  She complained it was too big.  I said "Well, your dumbass cat pissed all over my smaller one, so you have to make due with this one."  Just kidding.  I didn't call the cat a dumbass.  I love that cat.  But she did piss on it and I did tell my mother that.  Then I added that we'll talk about replacing that one later.  I wanted to let her know if her cats are going to destroy my stuff?  She's damn well going to pay for it.  But I never say it meanly.  Just matter-of-factly.  Anyways, she starts in on something else to bitch about and I looked her straight in the eye and said "You are welcome."  She glared at me.  "Why didn't you have Mr. Brooks bring it up?"  I said "You are welcome."  She said "You know I'll thank you later."  No I don't. She never says thank you.  She bitches about how what you did isn't good enough or how you did it wrong.  So I said again.  "You.  Are.  Welcome."  She said "Pffttt.  Thank you."  I then left the room.  By that time, I was so done with her behavior for the past few days.  So now I will tall her when she's bitching  about what I did and how wrong it was, I am going to just say "You are welcome." Maybe that'll give her the hint that she's being rude?  Maybe not.  But it'll make me feel better. 

I am not the person she needs to take her fears about surgery to.  It's a simple surgery, but I'd be scared, too.  But I am not the person to make her feel better or console her.  She has three other people in this house she can lean on.  And they will do their best to make her feel better (though usually nothing works with her anyways).  But it won't be me.  Why?  Because my mother's anxiety comes out as anger and meanness and very, very controlling behavior.  She won't say she has anxiety, but she's been diagnosed with GAD.   Now, I was born with panic disorder, GAD, social anxiety, OCD, and every other form of anxiety possible.  I have aspergers/ASD, which means I also have sensory processing disorder (which is the root of all this anxiety).  I can't take SSRI's because I react badly to them, and other forms of anti-depressants don't treat anxiety that well (like wellbutrin is a stimulant, which makes anxiety worse).  So I've been stuck my entire life dealing and coping on my own.  I've done pretty well lately, after about thirty years of doing horrible with it.  As a child, it was sooooo much worse because nobody knew what it was.  I was labeled as crazy.  In fact, I was labeled as crazy by my other until I was an adult.  Anything she doesn't understand, she attacks.  

So for my entire life, even as an adult, she's shamed me, humiliated me, and even scolded me for having anxiety and panic attacks.  She's been nothing short of ruthless, demeaning, cruel, and evil about it.  And now she wants me to console her?  Ha.  

Let me tell you, it goes against every fiber of my being to not be empathetic towards her.  Yet I don't have a choice.  I've put up so many boundaries with her that I can't take them down, nor do I want to.  When my mother leans on me and becomes vulnerable with me because she's sick or hurting?  The moment she feels better, I get chastised for it.  As though she's ashamed of her vulnerability, and she takes it out on me because I saw it.  She did it after she hit me in 2006, and after her meds were fucked up a couple years ago and she got the point she couldn't walk, eat, or hardly even talk.  Both times, she lashed back at me for taking care of her.  

I will not do that again.  I'd rather her be angry with me for rejecting her reaching out to me than to get punished for helping her.  Because fuck that.  And besides, she doesn't deserve my empathy.  I never got a single iota from her.  I had to suffer my entire life because of her.  

I make sure she has her meds.  I make sure she's fed.  I make sure she's clean, has her laundry done, and I give her haircuts (though...even though I do everyone's haircuts in the house, she will take scissors to her own head to prove she doesn't need or want my help...so I let her...she looks crazy, but hell, that's what she wants, so she can look however she wants).  I take care of her physical needs.  I am her live in caregiver/nurse.  I am not her fucking therapist.  I needed her so many times in my life.  So very many times.  And she always turned her back on me.  Every single time.  And she'd still turn her back on me if she didn't need me right now.  So I am not the person she needs to take her fears to.  

I am the person who locks her door because her crazy ass mother refuses to honor her boundaries.  I am the person waiting for the green light on her mother's surgery so she can get a freaking MONTH or more off from insanity.  I am not my mother's friend, her confidant, her buddy, or even really her daughter.  I am her nurse.  Plain and simple.  I do this because I have to.  And I am willing to accept that.  I just want this freaking month off so I can relax for first time in years.  Even when I was no contact, I could not relax, because she still found me in stores, and would come to my house (and still invaded my dreams nightly).  I am not looking forward to the month (or more) being over.  Oh god, I am not looking forward to that.  But I know it's what I need to do in order to keep my family safe and her safe.  She's a human being, and my job is to keep her safe, no matter how much she wants to be unsafe (she forces me to yell at her to get her to stop doing dangerous things).  

But for now, she can be in the hands of professionals for a bit and I can finally fucking relax.