Or at least, feel guilty enough about not being able to love her to put up with her pee. But it’s hard to love someone who doesn’t do anything good for you. Oh, yeah, she gave birth to you and your sister. Like a classic comic strip says: “ok, so I’m your daughter and we graduated on the same day!”
That was my case for a long, long time. Your mother makes mine look… less bad (sorry, no way she can look “good”)… but I’ve been down the road you’re in.
You need to get out of there. Both you and, if she hasn’t done it yet, your sister. IT’S NOT ABANDONMENT. Your duty to yourself goes first. “Thou shall not kill thyself in the name of honoring a parent who refuses to be one.”
A year after Dad’s death, I left home (again, I’d moved back in to help while he was sick) because I knew that if I didn’t I was going to die. Every day I died a little. Mom would call me when she knew I was in the kitchen cooking to fetch things that were half an inch too far for her to reach them without moving her pillows out of place. She’d repeat this four or five times in the time it takes to cook pasta - we’re talking eight freaking minutes! One day she woke up at 3am, decided she wanted to tell me something, barged into my bedroom, switched on the big lamp and sat on me. OK, she only weighed about 200lb… “only”? AGH! Of course, I was a selfish bad daughter for yelling “geroff!” ferchrissakescan’tevensleepinthisbloodyhouse… We’d make deals: I’d keep my part, she wouldn’t keep hers.
My brothers thought I was being selfish and thoughtless. One of the parish priests came up to me and told me that he thought I was doing the right thing, that “you have to love yourself first”, that his parents gave the same crap to his little brother.
In time, first one brother, then another, and finally even Mom, told me that leaving her and thus “forcing her to stand on her own two feet” was actually the best thing I did for her in all that year.
It’s hard, yes. Both your situation and my post. But I promise, promise, promise, there’s people out here who understand you and who feel your pain even though we’ve never met you.
And I promise, promise, promise, things can get better. I just wish I wasn’t on the other side of the sea and could help more.
{{{{{{{{DoperChic}}}}}}}