Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I visited my mother today. At my house. I am not living there.

She was drunk. She is often drunk. And I just brought her more. More rum, more cigarettes. I visit at least every Saturday with another load of both. She’s been a smoker since she was a teenager. She’s a broke penniless widow and moved into my house back in 2017 and built a she-shed to a house’s standards. She also just kind of took over my house. It became her house. Took down my curtains, bitched about whatever was hanging on the wall, called my belongings “gross.” She micromanaged me and nagged me every chance she could. I could not so much as wash a dish without her saying something, because she doesn’t like how I do anything. Her words, not mine.

She is, in short, extremely difficult to live with. I moved out of my own house the day I got out of the VA psych ward, 3 South, nearly a year ago. I just signed a lease negotiated to eight months and I’ll have to move back after that. None of my friends, even my doctor, like this. And trust me, neither do I. But whether she likes how I do anything or not doesn’t matter anymore. It’s my house. I have a lot to do to prepare to move in, not just to the house, but to me.

My mother’s borderline is extreme. I have it too, and we’re a hot mess. It’s not that she “fears abandonment” she’s just an emotionally sucking vampire. The majority of her day consists of smoking, drinking, and complaining to anyone who will listen about being forced to “work” all day. (She doesn’t have a job, and she smokes most of the day). My brother gets much more frustrated with her, shows it, and this makes me furious because it makes my life harder. She will use that as fodder to bolster her image as a poor, put-upon old lady who is blameless. It’s all just absurd. The emotional labor load is extreme, and after years, I couldn’t take it anymore. For years now, I’ve lived with her difficult moods and tried to be patient but there are times I have blown up at her, screamed at her to leave if living here was so fucking awful. Then I would feel terrible after. My brothers marvel at my ability to deal with her, but after seven years of that, I moved out directly after a depressive episode that had me hospitalized.

Ceila took my car from the VA parking lot back to my house for me, so my mom had a car if she needed it (she rarely leaves the house, then complains she’s at home all the time. She has a car now). Ceila was shocked at my mom’s resentful behavior when she arrived. They already knew each other; Ceila has met her many times. My mother was more concerned with the fall cleanup and raking leaves than she was me, suicidal in the hospital.

“I love your mom, but I’ll never see her the same after that. I wanted to say something so bad but I held my tongue.”

And trust me, that’s probably for the best. I have found not reacting is the best possible move. I may learn much more, and have already, in IOP. Sometimes I don’t say a word for hours while she goes on and on.

I told Ceila she saw a glimpse of who my mom really is. That my mother presents as very personable and outgoing and friendly but according to her that’s because she “never sees anyone, I’m just here doing your work!” Ceila saw behind the mask.

I would help but, in her eyes, I can’t do anything right. She has said so herself. Hahahaha, you should see her when I am driving with her in the car. Ultimate “backseat driver” and freaks out all the time because I can’t drive right.

But I don’t want to be that guy who shits all over his mom. I really don’t. I have tried to take care of her. My father is dead and my brothers are in no position to do much at all, despite several of my pleas for any little bit they’ve got – spending time with her, buying her cigarettes, buying her liquor, buying her groceries, and the diet coke to which she is addicted. I may not live there, but I still pay for everything.

And I don’t want to hear it, the issue of enabling. I am fully aware. She used to buy her own shit and ran out of money. I don’t want to get into it further, but I’m sure I will later. For now, all I can say is I am just trying to keep the peace.

My mother had a really tough and shitty upbringing. Adopted with her brother and one of her sisters by her birth mother’s sister, she was told early on she was not wanted, they just wanted her brother and sister and had to take her as part of the deal. My grandparents (my biological great aunt and uncle) treated her pretty horribly, and my grandfather sexually abused her. Borderline comes from trauma. She married my father at 17 in 1979 to get away and had my older brother barely a year later. She had babies to feel some sense of love.

She resented me a great deal before I moved out, could not even hang out with a friend without getting the guilt trip for it. Forget about having a friend over. Thinks I set her up to take care of a house and “I’m an old lady, I can’t do your work.” She’s only 62 but has done much to damage her health, and lives with severe gastroparesis besides. But I do agree taking care of a house and yard is too much, and I’ll have to move back eventually. In eight months, to be exact. But there is much I have to do – I want to replace the carpet and paint my room. She’s got it full of junk right now so I’ll have to take care of that while she bitches the whole time. That is just how she is. That is what I have to go back to. I don’t want to, but I kind of ran from the problem. I have to deal with it and salvage my house. It is going to shit.