That's what she said to me to me today.  I am not sure if it was a dementia moment or a "I create my own reality" lie.  Today she finished her thought about me not living here after something happens to her.  She said "What if I live another twenty years?"  I just looked at her and wondered what in the hell?  She's got a pacemaker, a bad heart, a bad liver, bad kidneys, bad lungs, and a bad brain.  Twenty years?   Yeah, sure.  So I giggled and made a joke out of it (because that's how we are with each other, we say goofy stuff and make jokes) and pointed to my head and said "You won't be home in here in twenty years."  And then I said, AGAIN, "What if you have a stroke?  You'd need round the clock care."  She replied "They can come take care of me here."  I said "In our home?  Wow, you must have forgotten how poor we are.  Did you forget we all live in this house only because of the fact we split everything 50/50?  Who will pay for that?"  She started laughing and said the dog would.  She knew she was spouting crazy stuff then and turned it into a joke.  But then she said "Well, you can't put me in a home.  You promised you'd take care of me."  I lowered my eyebrows at her and said "I did no such thing.  I've always been up front and honest with you that once you're in a wheelchair, bedridden, or your dementia gets worse, you'll be in a home.  You know this."  

I get she's scared.  I know this.  But I can't stand this game she likes to play with me.  The "Let's pretend Shay said things she didn't say and let's make her have to explain it all again to me game".  Now, again, if this is a dementia game, as I said in my last post, then I am okay with that.  But it's not.  This is how my mother has always been.  She lives in a fantasy world and will not like what you say to her, so she'll promptly make herself forget it and then pretend something else is true.  

This is what she'd do with my father's abuse.  Bringing up his abuse was FORBIDDEN in our house.  If you did, she'd stomp out of the room screaming like a little kid.  She could not handle admitting that just yesterday, my father bruised her or called me names he shouldn't have.  She'd walk in to find my father apologizing and she'd scream and stomp out.  Then when she'd come back, she'd act like nothing happened with a smile plastered on her face.  This is where my fear of confrontation came from.  Eventually mother won out, and father stopped apologizing, for fear of her reaction.  And because of that, father drank even more than before.  

Her coping mechanism is so childish, but I get it.  Though at the same time, I am a fucking adult and I do not play these games.  My husband and I, and our kids, do not act like this.  We get to the root of our bullshit and we apologize and grow and change and do better.  And we forgive when we don't.  It's healthy, and growing up the way I did, I don't know how I knew the right thing to do, but I did.  And that was all me.  Nobody taught me that.  Or maybe my dad did?  I never questioned if my father loved me.  Because he always made amends.  Maybe deep down I knew that was the right way to deal with things because of my dad made me feel when he wasn't an abusive asshole.  

But I left the conversation with my mom, because I am not playing this game again with her.  She knows for 100% fact she's going into a home.  I've never lied to her on that.  I am not mean about it.  I just state facts (in the nicest way possible).  So for her to tell me that I promised to take care of her forever, she very well could be joking, based upon knowing I told her straight to her face I will never change one of her diapers.  Ever.  I am not that person.  I can do that stuff for people I love, those that are my family, but not her, because she is not part of my family (I didn't say that part to her, for obvious reasons).  

The moment she needs a diaper, she's going into a home.  Period.  The moment she needs help on the toilet, she's going into a home.  Period.  The moment she can't bathe herself anymore.  Home.  The moment she wanders out of our house and doesn't know where she is.  Home.  The moment she is violent with me (and I know she'll eventually get violent, it's in her nature).  Home.  The moment she starts doing crazy shit that will hurt her.  Home.  The thing is, my mother needs to be safe.  She needs people to take care of her.  I am only one person.  I cannot do that for her.  And I will not.  I refuse.  She's not my responsibility.  And she knows this.  

So I will not have this conversation with her again.  And if this is a dementia issue?  Then what's the point of telling her I'm putting her in a home over and over again?  That's just mean.  

So the next time she brings this up, I'm going to say "Oh, I don't know, we'll just deal with it when the time comes."  And change the subject.  And if she presses the subject, I will flat out tell her this is not her issue to worry about, and walk away.  And like my therapist said, if she continuously says something that's on purpose to make me uncomfortable, then I should state "I am not having this conversation with you again."  But again, only if I can see this is clearly not a dementia issue.  If it's a dementia thing, I'll just say the first thing I said above, about dealing with it when the time comes.  

Life with a demented narc is so much fun.  Never a dull moment.