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Her Grand Delusions

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Now, I know I said that I am trying to take her behavior more as dementia than as personal attacks, and I really am.  But sometimes I can see her delusional behavior rear its ugly head and it still bothers me.  I wish it didn't.  I know that with more mindful practice of changing my mindset from "attacking" or "on purpose" behavior to "dementia" behavior will eventually get to me the point where nothing she says bothers me.  I did that with my ex-husband.  With him, I made a choice one day to not let a single thing he said bother me anymore.  I said to myself "I always expect him to be normal, a normal parent and a normal person.  But he keeps letting me down, so from this day on, I will never again expect anything normal from him again.  That way, he'll just be who I think he is, and I won't be angry over being let down anymore."  And it worked.  Nobody understood my mindset, they all said "Well, doesn't it make you angry he did this or that?"  I would say "Nope.  That's what I expect of him.  What else was he going to do?"  Mainly it was him neglecting our children, not showing up, or when he did have them, he'd do something stupid.  So if I expected him to do something stupid, how could he disappoint me?  

That being said, I did not still live with him when this was going on.  In fact, I hardly ever heard from him.  So it was easy to let go of his actions, since I only had to deal with him on a quarterly or less basis.  But when someone lives with you?  It's not so easy.  

Here are some of the things she's delusional about: 

  • She thinks she'd going to live in his house until she dies, and I'm going to take care of her.  Too bad I've told her a billion times she'd going into a home when the time comes (when she's wheelchair bound or otherwise--or perhaps even sooner, if we can get our shit straight to buy our own place).  
  • She thinks she'd going to be mentally healthy for a very long time.  She always makes comments about buying stuff and how in a couple years she'll be here to see it (like plants or the car, etc.).  This may be wishful thinking on her part, but I doubt it.  I know my mother and how she works.  She lives in a fantasy world and only operates from that space.  Now, I am not the asshole who's going to burst her bubble and say "Well, you do realize your dementia is going to take your brain before that, right?"  I don't even tell her when she says something crazy, I just nod my head and say okay, because I know how scary it must be to realize you're losing your mind.  But to wholly not accept it, as though the word "dementia is okay to admit she has, but the act of dementia--the symptoms, and the outcome, has nothing to do with her at all.  She compartmentalizes these things, separates them into boxes in her brain: one she can think about, one she refuses to admit even exists.  Denial is a type of delusion.  It's a made up way to think so she doesn't have to face the truth.  And then I'm stuck having to deal with her immaturity based on this delusion.  I'm stuck having to make the choice of saying why these things she wants to are impossible.  Do I make something up?  Do I speak the truth?  Do I play a game of roundabout?  What is the right choice in any given situation?  I never know and sometimes regret whatever choice I make.  I really resent having to be put in the position to have to do that.  Again, I would not resent it if it were only "dementia related behavior".  But it's not.  It's narcissism.
  • She thinks she can still tell me what to do, as though we're co-creators of my life, and anyone's life that she's currently talking to.  Also known as "meddling".  She's been this person since day one.  She thinks that if you tell her something, she has the right to "give you advice" as though you even asked for it.  And if you don't do what she says, she gets angry and will hound you until you do what she says.
  • And this brings me to the last thing she'd delusional about (though she has many more things I could talk about it, but they aren't relevant in this post), is that she still thinks she's in control of financial choices for this house (or in her life in general).  I thought I made it clear by taking control of her money that she's not.  But I guess not.  I guess the next step will be flat out tell her that she's not the financial decision maker anymore.  
Yesterday, I made the mistake of telling her something I should not have.  She said "We're taking down the pine tree out front."  I said "No we're not."  She says "Yes we are, it's ugly and I hate it."  I said I don't care.  But then I made a stupid choice.  I could have said that she was not the financial choice maker in the house, so therefore she has no say so.  I could have said that.  Should I have? I don't know.  It probably would have angered her.  And it would have been a worse conversation.  But I decided to say "If you go into a home, they will take this house.  And you are going into a home one day (I didn't say "soon", but I wanted to, because it's true).  The only way we get to stay here is if you die.  Then the bank will give us the option to buy it.  But we won't even stay here then.  If something happens to you, we're leaving because this house is insanely small for four people.  So nobody is sinking any amount of money into this house more than we have to.  So we're not taking the pine tree down, or anything else for that matter.  This house is not permanent."  

I should not have said that last part.  That wasn't her business.  The part about us leaving no matter what.  But I said it and I can't take it back.  Strangely, first her response was "Then don't put me in a home." I said "What if you have a stroke?"  She said "They'd come take care of me here."  I said "Nobody could afford that.  And why would you want to put us through that?  That's not fair. You're going in a home."  She has mini-strokes, so it's a matter of time of her having one that will leave her unable to walk or talk or even killing her.  She was told that by her neurologist years ago.  But in true my-mom fashion, she promptly forgets (or rather, places that into her "let's pretend this doesn't exist" box).  

Then today, she comes into the room while I'm cooking (something she knows I hate) and starts running her mouth.  My mother suffers from dysentery of the mouth.  From word vomit.  She talks to fill the air with randomness.  I have a sign on the wall of my room that says "Open your mouth only if what you are going to say is more beautiful than the silence".  I should move it to the kitchen.  But she'd probably read it an say "Oh wow, let's talk about how cute that is for the next fifteen minutes and then move onto something else even more random!"  Silence, to my mother, means she doesn't know what's going on.  She HATES being silent.  She has to fill the room with her voice, or else I think she fears she will disappear.  It's obsessive.  It's annoying.  And it drives me up a fucking wall.  

I like quiet.  As a kid my mother used to brag how she loved the school year because she "loved the quiet" and then she'd close her eyes and not speak for a moment, as to demonstrate what she meant, to prove that she was better off when I wasn't around.  But the thing is, she does love the quiet.  The quiet of other people's voices.  Not her own.  She needs to speak.  If you are having a conversation about something she can't join in on (which is more and more these days) she will get angry and either a) leave or b) bust in the middle of your conversation and talk over you to talk about she wants to talk about.  If she's alone, she will call people until someone will talk to her (I mean, who will let her talk).  And if you talk with her, about yourself, she will use that as a never ending way to horn in on your situation and tell you want to do until you do it.  She makes your life, her life, because really has not life of her own and never has (which is why narcs live vicariously through their golden children).

This is what she tried with me today.  I was making a sauce with a lot of spices/ingredients and she's behind me blab blab blabbing (about herself) and I kept talking over her, saying my ingredients and measurings out loud, so she'd get the hint to shut the fuck up.  She did not, in fact, shut the fuck up.  Instead, she got annoyed and started in on about us leaving the house when something happened to her.  

"So, you said you were going to leave the house when something happened to me, right?  Well, I was thinking..."  And there it is.  Her favorite phrase, and the one I hate the most.  "I was thinking..." which usually means she has some cockamamie idea or opinion on something that has nothing to do with her, but she feels the need to interject something stupid into the mix.  So I cut her off right there and said "You know what, ma?  I can't listen to you right now.  I am measuring stuff and if you talk, I will mess up and forget ingredients or put the wrong measurements in.  I need it be quiet right now."  She said "Oh.  Okay."  And she left the room to bug my kids instead (which means she walked into the living room and talked through what they were watching on Youtube).  

And this is what bugs me.  She knows I hate it when people bother me when I'm cooking.  It's my zen time to be alone and to be mindful of what I'm doing, to completely immerse myself in my actions.  Same goes for vacuuming.  But with vacuuming, nobody talks to me, so I'm good.  But when I'm cooking and people think it's chatty-chat time, I want to scream and shut and lock the imaginary door to the kitchen so I can be alone.  It drives me batty when people do this (from now one I will use headphones while I cook, that will give the clear message to go the fuck away).  And I feel that when she does this shit, she's not respecting my...I don't know, my wishes?  My privacy?  My feelings?  My personal space?  Because she does the same bullshit when I am outside in my hammock chair meditating.  She's all "OH MY GAWD! BLAH BLAH BLAH!"  And I just want to yell at her, but instead, I just cringe and pretend I'm asleep until she shuts up.  "OH, I GUESS YOU'RE SLEEPING.  I GUESS I'LL BE QUIET THEN." she'll say in her loud indoor/outdoor voice.  

I know that's stupid.  To go to silly lengths to get time alone.  I need to be more direct.  But have you ever tried being direct with a narcissist?  Good grief, it's like you're the biggest asshole on earth.  If I said "Hey, I am out here trying to chill by myself, maybe you could read a book while I'm out here?" she'd probably get pissed.  But you know what?  I don't care anymore.  I can't go through another summer with her behavior ruining my time alone.  So that's what I'll say.  Or maybe I'll just say "You don't see me out here running my mouth, do you?  No?  Well then, maybe you shouldn't run yours!"  Hahaha that would go over so well.  

But anyways, my issue, her invading my space while I'm cooking, what really bothers me is having to tell her to shut the fuck up and get the fuck out.  In the nicest way possible, of course.  Though, I don't see why I need to be that nice about it, when she knows she's doing something wrong by being there in the first place. 

And then brings us back to "on purpose" vs. "dementia".  If it's dementia, I can be kind-hearted about it.  It it's on purpose, it creates a seething river of rage in my body that makes me physically ill.  So even if she's doing something on purpose, for my health and mental well-being, it's so much better if I see it as "dementia" behavior.  Though that's easier said than done, when you live with them.  AND having to had put it up with it for forty-some years of my life, it's just ingrained in my soul to take it personally.  That river of rage has been seething for a very, very long time.  It's hard to turn it off.  

Some things are easy, like her pointing out I was fat the other day (my therapist said "OMG Shay, you are so not fat!  Don't even say that about yourself!" when I relayed to him that story and I wanted to say "dude, fat isn't a bad word, it's a fact, I am overweight, not bashing myself" LOL).  This didn't bother me because it was unusual for her to say something like that.  Had she called me fat my entire life?  I would have stomped out of the room and been pissed.  

But when she does things she normally does, it's hard to switch to thinking it's not on purpose, because I know it is.  And you might say "Well, who cares even if it is?"  I care.  I care deeply.   Too deeply.  It's ingrained in me to care.  I've always cared and I've always been super offended by a mother treating her child in such a way.  It's an open, gaping, oozing wound that just won't heal.  And I have no idea how to heal it.  I know it's narcissistic in itself (a flea--if you don't know what a flea is, it's a narc behavior we've inherited from our parents, even though we're not narcs ourselves) to say "Oh look, YOU did this to ME!" and act like it's the worst thing ever.  To say "I'M too special for you to treat ME this way!" even though they treat most people this way.  Though some of us really are singled out to be mistreated by our narc parents.  But they are our parents.  They are not supposed to treat their children like this.  They are not supposed to hate us.  They are not supposed to be the root of our suffering.  They are supposed to love us, care for us, and have our best interests at heart.  I know this because I am like that with my own children.  I can't even fathom for a moment treating my kids the way she treats me.  

I know, to her, I am not special, because she has no idea what the words "daughter" or "mother" really mean.  To her, I just just another person to use.  She had no role model for herself as a parent.  Even if she had, it wouldn't matter, she's a narc.  She was always going to turn out this.  Her brain is broken.  But that still doesn't quiet that sad, grieving, wounded kid inside of me who just wanted a mom.  And that doesn't quell my anger when she's cruel or rude to me.  I don't take my anger out on her, instead I suppress it, because I don't want to scream "You know better!  Get the fuck outta my kitchen when I'm cooking!"  And I never will.  Because I am not her.  No, she never said those exact words to me, but she's said much, much worse.  "I can't wait until you're eighteen and you can't call child abuse on us anymore."  "Yes, when I'm eighteen it'll be assault you'll go straight to jail."  Idiot.  

I think what I really want, deep down, is a fucking apology.  I think that's what my underlying anger is about.  Living with her.  Hearing her stay shit that is either untrue or triggering to me and knowing I'll never get a fucking apology from her.  She'll now just blame my dad (even though before, she said "I have no idea what home you lived in, because those things never happened!").  

I just want her say "I am so very, very sorry, you deserved better than us.  I did my best, but I failed.  And if I could go back and do it over again, I'd be a better mother to you."  But she can't even be a better mother to me now, how could she ever even think of saying those words to me?  She lives in her delusions, that was some kind of great mom.  Which I just can't get over or past.  I am stickler for the truth.  And I think this is why.  Living with her constant lies.  

But if I can just get myself to believe it's all dementia and not on purpose?  I will be mentally healthier.  I know that getting offended and angry is only hurting me and it will not affect her one bit (and will not change her).  I can speak up for myself more, that might help.  And yes, it'll make her angry, but why should I be the one who's angry when she's the one doing something wrong?  

No, her babbling at me in the kitchen was not her doing something "wrong", per say.  I know she's bored and stuff.  But all the other bullshit.  I can speak up when I need to, rather than walking away angry.  Let her know I do not like what she's saying or doing (but I have to be careful not to get carried away, or else I'll always be telling her I don't like what she doing or saying LOL).  I just hate correcting all her delusions, because tomorrow, she'll forget what said and be delusional again.  And no, that's not dementia, that's been for my entire life.  

I am not sure I can really move past any of this while living with her.  I don't think I'll be able to get to the whole "this is just her dementia talking" level.  Not while living with her and being subjected to her veiled abused and doing things on purpose to make me mad (which she's the queen of, and always has been).  I think what I really need is for her to go into a home and for us to move.  I'm scared of moving again.  But I'm more afraid of waiting too long and still living this way a year from now.  

Okay, so my plan is a) be more direct with her (not be mean--just when she's being mean or rude to simply tell her she's being mean or rude--like today when this happened) and b) keep moving forward with our moving out plan (it's already in motion, which I think is what's freaking me out--an idea isn't scary until you implement steps to get there, then it becomes real).  Yes, I can work on stopping taking her actions personally (Don Miguel Ruiz would yell at me do this more).  And I will.  But in the meantime, I just need to be more direct (per my therapist's orders) and to keep plugging away at our credit scores, debt, and everything else.  *deep breath*  

Okay, enough rambling for now.  I hope 2021 is treating you all well.  And thank you for reading my stupid, long diary pages LOL  



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