bangs head repeatedly on my desk
My mom just called me (at work) to ask me to cancel a check I gave her and my step-father at Christmas. Then she asked me the question I’ve been dreading for the last couple of months - “Can I come live with you if I have to leave?”
bang bang bang
Here’s the problem. My mother is nuts. Crazy. Cuckoo.
Let me back up some more. I’m 27 - Mom’s 52. I have a four year older brother. She and my father broke up when I was four, and got a divorce a few years later. Soon after the breakup, she met my step-father Kevin, and they’ve been together ever since. So I was raised spending my weekdays with Mom and Kevin, and every weekend with my Dad (and eventually my step-mother Robin).
She was almost normal when I was a child, or at the very least, not so out of it that it was a problem for me. She had quirks, and was prone to coming up with wild schemes and stories, but she worked and had friends and a had a normal life. The biggest problem was that she was also massively, obsessively overprotective - I wasn’t allowed to walk up two blocks to the main street of town by myself until I was 16. (Kevin eventually interceded on that one - that’s the only reason it was allowed.) Fortunately, I was a boring child that would rather be reading in my room then playing outside, so I coped.
Then came time to go to college. I decided that the most important criteria for choosing one was that it was too far away to live at home, because I couldn’t take the smothering anymore. I eventually decided on one that was a six hour drive away. My mom and Kevin drove me up for a campus visit, though mom was visibly tense. When we got back, I announced that I had decided to go there, and mom a) burst into tears, and b) had a screaming fit. (She had convinced herself that as soon as I realized how far away it was I would decide to live at home.) The screaming fits continued at random intervals for most of a month. I would arrive home from school and then retreat to my room for the rest of the night, only emerging to make myself a sandwich for dinner. (My dad, incidentally, offered to let me live with him at this point because he was so worried about the situation. My brother had done that at 14 because he couldn’t take it anymore either.)
Well, I went. And, other than the first two summers during college, I’ve never lived there again. I met my husband at school, and after graduation we moved to a location that was only about 2.5 to 3 hours away from my mom, which was still far enough away that I couldn’t be expected to visit often.
My mom got sick several years ago (I’m still not sure of what, just that it had something to do with blood clots in her legs and that it could kill her), and did not tell me about it until she was almost out of the hospital. (This gives her plenty of fodder to complain about how I didn’t visit her in the hospital when she was dying.) She got Social Security Disability (about $400 a month) and ceased working. This is when things started to go bad.
In the years that she’s been on disability, she’s been on a slippery slope away from sanity, and she’s picking up speed. It’s difficult to tell what could or could not be an effect of her illness, but it’s obvious that she’s lost it.
A woman who used to get up at 6 am every day sleeps until 2 pm, goes to bed at 8, and complains about how tired she is. She does no housework but complains constantly (and to his face) that Kevin is lazy for not doing everything. A rented house that was always in bad shape but was once at least livable, has become a warren of junk that she has picked out of the neighbor’s trash. The gifts that she gives at Christmas and on birthdays are from the same piles of trash. Walls are half painted, or painted around the furniture, from the “projects” that she does around the house. Open cans of paint are left in the rooms she abandoned months ago.
She leaves the house as little as possible, complaining when she has to go out for groceries, and will no longer visit her sisters 45 minutes away. (Because she’s scared to drive that far. She’s been driving for 30 years and there’s no medical reason why she can’t drive.)
She has driven away her friends, either from being so unpleasant to be around, or accusing them of stealing from her. My brother recently moved back into the area to be closer to the family, after spending several years in Hawaii and California. She bitterly complains about him not visiting her enough (i.e. everyday), every time I talk to her. She complains constantly about my brother’s girlfriend, claiming that she’s using him for money (he has none) and that she thinks that mom’s a racist. Then mom makes racist remarks about her.
She can’t/won’t take care of herself. She still smokes despite the blood clots. OK, I can see that - it’s an addiction, right? In the years since her original illness she has also been diagnosed with diabetes. And yet she lives for days on end on nothing but Rita’s Mango Water Ice. She’s lost all of her bottom teeth and won’t get dentures. She talks about how good her hair looks now that it’s grown out (it’s turned white and wispy, and she never gets it cut anymore).
You cannot trust anything she tells you - not the simplist of statements. It’s not that she’s lying - she’s convinced that she’s right. She will insist you to your face that you said something five minutes ago that you never said, or did something that you never did. Two weeks ago she spent 10 minutes on the phone trying to a) understand the difference between a check and a gift certificate and a money order, and b) tell me that half of $150 was $100, not $75. (She used to do all of the bills, so I know that she used to be able to do simple math.) The suicide death of a close friend of her last Christmas has changed in her mind from the sad result of 25 years of alcoholism, to a murder at the hands of some conspiracy I can’t quite follow well enough explain here.
She did go to a therapist once - for about two months, several years ago. As she tells it, the therapist was on her side on everything. Since you can’t trust anything she says, there’s no way of knowing if the therapist just believed her, or if mom’s repeating the conversations incorrectly.
This brings us to this past November. My mother, a woman with constant delusions, who has no friends anymore, who won’t leave the house, who won’t take care of herself, who constantly belittles and complains about everyone around her (often to their faces), and who incidentally has no visible injuries - informs me that Kevin hit her the previous week. This is a story that she has repeated twice that I can think of since then.
Okkkayyyy… so now what do I do? Do I believe a woman who, as far as I can tell, never speaks the truth anymore? Or do I believe a man who has been like another father to me for 23 years, and who never showed signs of being violent towards any of us, and who has put up with enormous amounts of crap from her for years?
She’s also been going on and on about his drinking too much at night (he doesn’t drink much at all anymore, according to my own observations and the phone calls I make to him at night, but I’m not there often). About him being jealous of her and my father (??? as far as I know, they haven’t so much as spoken since I moved out of the house and dad no longer needs to pick me up on the weekends). About him keeping all of the money from her - frankly, I wouldn’t blame him if that one’s the truth, since I don’t think that I’d trust her with money anymore either, and they basically have nothing aside from the car and about $5000 left over from a car accident settlement.
Oh, and as of about three weeks ago, she’s reporting to me that she hates her entire family (six brothers and sisters), because they’re all ganging up on her and think that she’s crazy, when she’s not. And that they all like Kevin better.
She’s been hinting for about a month that they’re breaking up. I’ve been trying my best to ignore it, as it gives me cold sweats to think that he wouldn’t be taking care of her anymore. I honestly don’t think that she can live on her own - she’d probably end up on the streets. But I don’t know if I can live with her either. I don’t think that I can. And it might kill my marriage - my husband can’t stand to visit her for two days, much less have her stay in our house.
Today’s phone conversation, paraphrased:
Mom: “Can you turn off that thing you gave me?” (Note: At Christmas, aside from the various physical gifts, I gave her a $50 gift card, him a $50 gift card, and a $150 check made out to both of them that was specifically to cover the heating oil they just bought. She’s been mad ever since that it wasn’t made out just to her.)
Me: “You mean cancel the check? Sure, but it will cost me like 30 bucks. Why?”
Mom: “Kevin won’t admit it’s half mine, and you said that both of us need to sign it to cash it.” (Note: I know for a fact that their only bank account is a joint account, so if it’s deposited it’s both of theirs anyway, and this was to cover oil THEY ALREADY BOUGHT OUT OF THAT ACCOUNT.)
Me: “It was for the oil.”
Mom: “I know, but…[insert explanation that I frankly can’t follow, and suspect makes no sense. This is common in these phone calls]. Besides, he won’t give me any money. I’ve been walking around for three months without a penny in my pocket, with broken ribs [true, she fell on the stairs] and a punctured rib with bleeding and they thought that they would have to operate on the thoasic thing.” (?!? I think she meant a punctured lung from the broken ribs, but I’m pretty sure this didn’t happen.)
Me: “You have a joint account. You can just go take some money out.”
Mom: <silence>
Mom: “I can do that?”
Me: “Yeah.”
Mom: “If he kicks me out can I come live with you?”
returns to banging head against desk
Sorry for the length of this, but I really don’t know what to do.