Today mother was a chatty Cathy, and was constantly asking me to do things for her.  I didn't mind, they were little things, but as the day wore on, I got wore out, and eventually it turned my mood completely sour.  Though maybe I also had some low blood sugar, because the minute I ate dinner with my kids (after she went to bed), I felt so much better.  

The little things were like "can you install this game for me?"  "why is my computer doing this?" "can you call the doctor?" (which I had already done, and she was being bitchy about it to me, as though I hadn't done it...even though I already told her I did--which goes to show her baseline with me: if I don't do things on her timetable, I am useless, and deserve getting treated like crap--granted, I think things not getting done on her timeline give her anxiety, so I really shouldn't take offense because I don't think it honestly has anything to do with me), "here, let me ask you a thousand more questions, even though I'm cutting into your time with your husband right before he goes to work".  But again, I didn't really mind, because that's my job: I am her caretaker, if she needs something done, or someone to chat at because she's bored, that's what I am here for. 

Also, I recently created a YouTube channel for music, and I was working on that after Mr. Brooks left for work, and that helped to sour my mood more, since the program was being slow AF, and it took me hours to encode a two-minute video (later, it worked fine, and it took me only minutes).  So my bad mood, like one of those flat, empty, "nothing will ever feel good again" feelings, like a very bad depression feeling.  Though there was no real external reason for it, and it only lasted hours until I ate.  So I am really sure it was caused by low blood sugar.  

But I went out to make dinner and immediately, she came out to read while I cook.  I prefer to cook alone.  She knows this.  And I was sort of enjoying myself before she came out.  See, I normally love to dance and listen to loud music while I cook.  In my old houses, my kitchens were walled off, and were not eat-in, so I had the ability to be completely alone while I cooked.  But this house?  It's all open and stupid.  And I don't get to do shit.  So my resentment of the fact that I am not allowed to do anything in this house without my mother finding me and being noisy as fuck (on purpose), or, back when we first moved in, she saw me as an extension of herself and would constantly be up my ass about doing shit for her (like useless shit, busywork).  So this is all what led me to be in my room with the door shut.  She refused to accept my shut door and would walk right in, so that led me to get a lock on my door.  So I had to literally barricade myself in my room in order to get any sort of privacy, or ability to do what I like without someone trying to suck up every moment of my time.  And I can't even have my door open, because if I do, she takes that as "Shay's room and attention are fair game".  And tonight, she did it again by sucking up my time to myself in my own house by coming in with a book and sitting at the table to read.  

I am too much chickenshit to ask her to leave.  

Once, my therapist told me "You can always ask her to leave while you are enjoying the backyard, to wait to come outside until you go in", as she would come out while I'd be relaxing in the yard to chatter on about nothing, interrupting my beautiful nature silence.  I told him "Um, I told you she has NPD, right?  She will have a freaking meltdown."  He said "So what?"  Um, so what?  Was he kidding me?  We ACoNs have lived a life going out of our ways to not incur the wraths of our narcissistic parents.  For some of us, it has become our biggest fear.  And I cannot answer you today why this still freaks me out.  Well, I do know partly why: I tend to absorb her moods.  If she's pissed off at me, I can't just let it go, I get pissed off, too.  And then my mind spins with imaginary conversations and the like and I worry and worry and worry about it.  Which is soooooo dumb.   But he asked me the wrong question, because it's me, I am the one who stupidly cares.  His question should have been "Why care?"  Now that's something to actually explore.  

Why do I care so much?  Why do I absorb her moods?  Why is that such an issue for me?  It's habit and engrained into my psyche, because that's how I've lived since chilldhood.  If my parents got angry, I got angry.  If they were being nice, I would immediately absorb the idea that "everything is fine now, we can switch to happy mode".  If my mother was over the top excited about creating something with me (or about anything), I would catch her mood like a fever and I became excited, too.  Though that never lasted and she never meant it.  The next day she'd be all flat and irritated about it, and then I would, too (though with her for doing that to me).  No matter what her mood was, I'd match it, penny for penny.  Then you mix that with my hypervigilance, and just the smallest tweak in her mood could be sensed, and I would immediately change course to match hers.  

What in the holy fuck is wrong with me?  Why is our tether still so freaking strong?  I mean, I get it back then, it was survival.  But now?  I don't need to survive anymore.  Yet, I am still stuck in that mode.  I fear her reaction to me asking her to leave the room while I cook, because I know it will sour my mood--though having her there also sours my mood, so why do I choose the one to make me suffer?  Because that's what I've done my entire life.  I make me suffer so she doesn't have to.  Because a suffering mother means so much more than just her suffering.  It means that everyone suffers.  Her reactions were always volatile and unpredictable and usually included punishment of some sort.  Threats.  But now?  She just stomps off and pouts in her room.  She has not much to threaten me with anymore.  Yet, I still fear her reactions.  

I know I've talked about this before on here, but I still don't get how to stop me from feeling this way.  

I do think that if I don't confront her while she's doing something I don't want her to do, but rather before or after it happens, it helps.  Except with the smoking.  That I will confront while it's happening.  But as for her being in the kitchen while I am cooking, I am going to say in front of everyone, something like "Hey, everyone, while I am cooking, I prefer everyone to keep the fuck out the kitchen, because it's the only time of the day I can do something alone outside of my room."  Because if I say it's due to noise or being in my way, my mother will argue that she will stay seated and be quiet.  I will bring up the fact that our old house was great, because my kitchen wasn't eat-in, so there wasn't enough room to hang out while I cooked.  So I got to cook alone for over ten years.  And now, I really hate people hanging out in this one while I cook.  So the kitchen will be off-limits from the time I start cooking until people eat.  Which is at most around an hour.  Before that and after that, feel free to use the kitchen all you like for whatever you like.  

The funny part in all of this, is if the kids to a project at the kitchen table (like when recently the kids converted our $20 dollar smoker we got off of Facebook Marketplace into a gas one for cheap), she has a fucking fit, as though the table is her sacred space, even though she spends all freaking summer taking up the entire backyard for herself, yet the table is still hers.  Though it's not hers, it's my table, the one a neighbor gave us after we became homeless and my mother refused to do a damn thing and was just going to let us rot and starve (can you tell I am still angry about that one?).  And when we moved in here, she was soooo adamant about not letting us use a single item of our own (she wanted 100% control), she forced us to use her TWO-PERSON dining table for FIVE PEOPLE, and required we all eat dinner together every single night.  So went I took back my title of "woman of the house", I removed her table and put in my SIX PERSON table instead.  Yet, she still claims ownership over it.  The kids aren't allowed to use it, even though this is their house, too.  Though when I say that, I mean my oldest son.  If it was my youngest, she'd not say shit.  Actually, she'd get interested in what he's doing.  But if it's my oldest, she gets gripey and mean.  Just like when he cooks dinner.  But somehow, I can't claim ownership over a piece of my time and space when I need to.  I am going to have to.  And if I don't address her directly, she won't get as angry.  Though she will not obey it, either way.  So this means I will have to fight her on this, probably until we move out.  Which is another reason I am not looking forward to saying anything at all.  

I really hated my old therapist, as he was somewhat narcissistic himself.  But he was right on at least one thing: this is my life.  And I only get one.  So why spend it only trying to please the crazy lady?  

So, my mantra for today is "I should not be afraid to ask for what I need."  Even if it has to be in a roundabout way that gives me less anxiety.  No matter how I choose to do it, it just needs to get done, whether it's directly or indirectly.  Though I do realize that in the indirect approach will most likely lead to a direct approach, as she will act like the rules don't apply to her.  But oh well, the hard part will be done already, so defending what I already asked to do is so much easier than asking in the first place.  

Wish me luck.