For some reason my mother has been on a REALLY negative rip lately. More so than usual. Maybe it is me, as my patience with it is growing short, and it has been one hell of a week. Working an insane amount at work trying to meet grant deadlines, etc... Received several bits of bad news about friends in one horrible day. Lost someone I admire and respect, and that day found out that one friend had 2 pets pass, and another friend lost her dog, another friend was just diagnosed with cancer, and yet another had emergency surgery and had most of his foot amputated.
Could I tell her any of this? No. Because it ALWAYS about her. She has no frame of reference for friendship. I think I only exist to her as some strange extension of her, and my friends are not real. Now granted, she has never met any of them, save the gentleman that lost his foot, but narcissism SUCKS. If I did share any of this, she will ask 200 inappropriate, morbid, and upsetting questions.
I think many mothers would be able to hear the heaviness in their daughter's voice that something is up. But her? Nope. She is obsessed with the mundane details that she observes about her neighbors... fixating on things like the whether the neighbor's son is attending college, the other neighbor's level or lack thereof of lawn care. She has worked herself into a dither about the one neighbor's house having the windows open... is convinced that they have a sewage blockage and it can impact her... Her amazing jumps to crazy conclusions based on the smallest of observations are something to hear.
I cringe when my car's Bluetooth asks, "Do you want to call MOM?" I continue my commitment to check in on her. But. It. Is. Soul. SUCKING. Work will get better, it will be late December before things slow down any, but I know that is only 2 short months away. My situation with her? No end in sight.
This would be funny if not so freaking sad. The other day I was going to dinner with a friend, and got violently ill as I walked in the restaurant, and it resolved once we left. Her response... I bet you had a heart attack! You are 43... your dad died at ...
Blah blah blah. I keep realizing that I can only change my reaction. She is not going to change, except to continue to deteriorate. Most of the time I am very numb. I am not sure why she got to me this week.
For those of you who are in the path of Sandy, I wish you safety and minimal disruption of your life.
My name is Lisabeth, and I am the adult child of a compulsive hoarding mother. The take away from my journey is that the hoard is merely a symptom of a life threatening, relationship-destroying mental illness. An illness that often includes behaviors from addiction, child/domestic abuse, and personality disorders such as narcissistic personality disorder. Stay, read, and please, by all means, intervene if you see a child being raised in the shadow of the hoard.
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