No Good Deed.....
I'm so tired of my life right now. I know that it's temporary and I'm not quitting, I'm just saying - I'm tired of this.
You'd think that a smart woman would chill out after the blowup that we had last week, but my mom is not, apparently, a smart woman. Raise your hand if you're surprised.
Mom is definitely feeling better. I know this because she, quit suddenly, started balking at taking her medication. She started claiming all sorts of ailments attributed to the dreaded Bipolar medication. It's pretty standard for a person with Bipolar to decide that they don't need certain medications, or they tweak their dosage because they're "doing fine" or "cured." There's something about the mania that can be very appealing and it can spiral everything else out of control. Now that mom is feeling better, she's wanting to play God with her medicine.
It's just so sad. Saturday was like dealing with a little kid. She was making things up and pretending to be really, really sick, begging me to let her stop taking her medication. I looked up the drugs and none of them could cause the side effects she was claiming came from the pills. Well, and the fact that ailments kept changing every time she called for me was a big clue. Mom couldn't even manage to keep her lies straight.
So, I did the worst thing I could do when faced with opposition - I quit.
I know, I know, if it were my kid I'd have to fight it out, but she's my mother and grown and I don't need the stress. I'm starting to have contractions and I'm not willing to risk Nora because of Mom's shenanigans.
After two days of her whining and calling for help (on the phone from her room, mind you) I calmly bagged up her medication and walked it downstairs. I didn't discuss it with her, just handed them over.
What do you know?! Sunday morning Mom was feeling fine and it was all because she didn't take the pill that was making her "sick."
My thing is this: if it had been the medication, wouldn't she still be feeling off for a couple of days while her body processed the meds in her system? Or am I wrong?
It doesn't matter, because I've washed my hands of the matter. Mom may not realize it, but this little stunt was the last straw. Having taken over her medication for that small amount of time and having her resist the pills so quickly, telling me that she "always" had to tweak her meds, has reminded me that she's not to be trusted. I have a liar for a mother. I know that, but it's like I - forgot.
We see the family doctor tomorrow and he'll give us the rest of her results. I'm sure they're going to be fine. She's shown remarkable progress and I don't fear that she's losing her faculties anymore. The week after that we see her psychiatrist. That visit may prove to be more entertaining.
I'm going to have to report to him about how giving Mom her medication went and the news isn't good. I'm going to (happily) tell him that she's lying, being combative and not taking the medication as prescribed. I get to tell him that I'm not the person to manage her pills because she's simply not interested in actually maintaining a healthy lifestyle. I'm going to ask him for recommendations for support groups, or a good therapist, that would be able to help me deal with her.
And I get to say all of this in front of her.
Her court hearing is the week after that and once we know what she's facing, things are going to start changing.
I've come back to the conclusion that she can't live here. Instead of putting all of my hopes on getting her in to a retirement village on the cheap, I'm going to see if she qualifies for Section 8 housing vouchers and I'm going to put her on a list. Once that's started I'm going to tell her that she needs to save for a car. Once that is established I'll make sure that she applies for food stamps. When she lived on her own before it was one of the things that she used to make me feel guilty - that she didn't have enough money for food. I'll nip that in the bud.
I can't say that this is going to happen any time soon. It can't. It's going to be a while before she pays the lawyer and gets a car and getting on a waiting list takes forever for single unit housing, but it's going to happen. I can't allow this woman to live in my house.
Sure, I'm being dramatic, but I'm angry and hurt. I worked my ass off to make sure that she's okay and her way of thanking me is to lie to my face? Not only that, but the ONLY thing we ask her to do is take care of her health, both mental and physical, and she's seemingly unwilling to do that. Mom lives in the master suite rent free with free internet access, free food, and she complains about everything; it's not too much to ask her to take care of herself. That's the whole reason she was here. When she was on her own all I heard was that she was broke and couldn't afford food or medicine. She certainly was never able to go to the doctor.
I thought that improving her quality of life, in that respect, would help everything else, but I was wrong. All moving her here did was make her lazier and more likely to waste money. There's been no attempt to improve her life.
I'm just ready to be done with this whole fiasco.
You'd think that a smart woman would chill out after the blowup that we had last week, but my mom is not, apparently, a smart woman. Raise your hand if you're surprised.
Mom is definitely feeling better. I know this because she, quit suddenly, started balking at taking her medication. She started claiming all sorts of ailments attributed to the dreaded Bipolar medication. It's pretty standard for a person with Bipolar to decide that they don't need certain medications, or they tweak their dosage because they're "doing fine" or "cured." There's something about the mania that can be very appealing and it can spiral everything else out of control. Now that mom is feeling better, she's wanting to play God with her medicine.
It's just so sad. Saturday was like dealing with a little kid. She was making things up and pretending to be really, really sick, begging me to let her stop taking her medication. I looked up the drugs and none of them could cause the side effects she was claiming came from the pills. Well, and the fact that ailments kept changing every time she called for me was a big clue. Mom couldn't even manage to keep her lies straight.
So, I did the worst thing I could do when faced with opposition - I quit.
I know, I know, if it were my kid I'd have to fight it out, but she's my mother and grown and I don't need the stress. I'm starting to have contractions and I'm not willing to risk Nora because of Mom's shenanigans.
After two days of her whining and calling for help (on the phone from her room, mind you) I calmly bagged up her medication and walked it downstairs. I didn't discuss it with her, just handed them over.
What do you know?! Sunday morning Mom was feeling fine and it was all because she didn't take the pill that was making her "sick."
My thing is this: if it had been the medication, wouldn't she still be feeling off for a couple of days while her body processed the meds in her system? Or am I wrong?
It doesn't matter, because I've washed my hands of the matter. Mom may not realize it, but this little stunt was the last straw. Having taken over her medication for that small amount of time and having her resist the pills so quickly, telling me that she "always" had to tweak her meds, has reminded me that she's not to be trusted. I have a liar for a mother. I know that, but it's like I - forgot.
We see the family doctor tomorrow and he'll give us the rest of her results. I'm sure they're going to be fine. She's shown remarkable progress and I don't fear that she's losing her faculties anymore. The week after that we see her psychiatrist. That visit may prove to be more entertaining.
I'm going to have to report to him about how giving Mom her medication went and the news isn't good. I'm going to (happily) tell him that she's lying, being combative and not taking the medication as prescribed. I get to tell him that I'm not the person to manage her pills because she's simply not interested in actually maintaining a healthy lifestyle. I'm going to ask him for recommendations for support groups, or a good therapist, that would be able to help me deal with her.
And I get to say all of this in front of her.
Her court hearing is the week after that and once we know what she's facing, things are going to start changing.
I've come back to the conclusion that she can't live here. Instead of putting all of my hopes on getting her in to a retirement village on the cheap, I'm going to see if she qualifies for Section 8 housing vouchers and I'm going to put her on a list. Once that's started I'm going to tell her that she needs to save for a car. Once that is established I'll make sure that she applies for food stamps. When she lived on her own before it was one of the things that she used to make me feel guilty - that she didn't have enough money for food. I'll nip that in the bud.
I can't say that this is going to happen any time soon. It can't. It's going to be a while before she pays the lawyer and gets a car and getting on a waiting list takes forever for single unit housing, but it's going to happen. I can't allow this woman to live in my house.
Sure, I'm being dramatic, but I'm angry and hurt. I worked my ass off to make sure that she's okay and her way of thanking me is to lie to my face? Not only that, but the ONLY thing we ask her to do is take care of her health, both mental and physical, and she's seemingly unwilling to do that. Mom lives in the master suite rent free with free internet access, free food, and she complains about everything; it's not too much to ask her to take care of herself. That's the whole reason she was here. When she was on her own all I heard was that she was broke and couldn't afford food or medicine. She certainly was never able to go to the doctor.
I thought that improving her quality of life, in that respect, would help everything else, but I was wrong. All moving her here did was make her lazier and more likely to waste money. There's been no attempt to improve her life.
I'm just ready to be done with this whole fiasco.
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