Egads... She is crazier than I apparently thought

Today I spoke with my hoarding mother's neighbor that lives behind her.  This is the neighbor that tried to make contact with my mother during the Derecho, and my mother gets so upset with if you are a reader of past blogs.

Long story slightly abbreviated, this person and I are Facebook friends.  The biological mother of her two stepchildren died last week while she was out of town on vacation, and prior to her new relationship, they were best friends... But the former wife of her now deceased husband was estranged from her, and she is grieving the loss of her friend, and the circumstances of her death are not making it easier.  And my hoarding mother?  She FEEDS off of misery.  The reader that called her 'Mompire' was dead-spot-on!  I heard about this through my mother's perspective... and I sent her a text letting her know I was sorry, thinking of her, and to call anytime.

She did.  She is also only calling my mother once or twice a week because of her escalating negativity.  The last time I spoke with mother, she shared a little story of how this neighbor "is not the person she thought she was" and that she heard something on the baby monitor she has set up in the detached, hoarded and barricaded garage.  She stated that she called this neighbor, and the neighbor was there with her live-in-boyfriend but did not answer or call back for 90 minutes.  She stated all she wanted was for her to turn on her back lights. I pointed out, again, that her house was so far away that was not going to be helpful... and she launched into the normal rant of calling the police does not do any good, that she was hesitant about going out since she "is not a match for anyone right now." 

So... in this call, my mother's neighbor shared the following:

That my mother did not ask her to turn on the light, she knows this neighbor has a concealed carry (as does she, frighteningly enough!) and asked her to reach her gun out the back window in shoot it in the air... Of course the neighbor declined!

In the following conversation, she shared these additional gems from my crazy mother:

• Mother has told her on many occasions that she has bought me several cars, including the new Z that I had when I graduated from college with my undergraduate degree.
• Truth-  NO.  She did not.  My first car was a gift from my grandmother and my father.  (It was my grandmother's then 15-year-old car).  My second car was purchased by me, my third was inherited from my grandmother...  She did give me a nice chunk (about 1/4 of the cost) on the 1990 Z that I purchased after an - idiot totaled my fourth car (that I paid for as well).  I am appreciative, but NO.  She did not buy me 'almost every car I had'.
• She also asserts that I am so lucky that she paid for my college (undergrad) so I did not have student loans.
• Truth-  NO.  She did not.  With my ACT and SAT scores I had full scholarships, and SHOCKER, mother never provided the information needed to submit/accept the money to my dad, so he paid out of his credit union account for those semesters.  He had promised to send/pay for as far as I wanted to go... and I worked like a dog every Friday through Monday at a retail store to also ensure I had money.  With my grandmother and my father dying 4 months apart, when my grandmother's house sold, she had went through my dad's check book, etc. and determined he had paid $27,000 for me.  I wrote her a check.  Little did I know, but my personal account that my grandmother was on with me had been closed (and I never saw a cent of the nearly $7,000 that was in there).  Sadly, due to dad dying so close to his mother, she was able to grab the money in my trust fund.  Roughly $500,000 I lost all told, and that summer I ended up living in my car for six weeks.  I made class, and got through it.
• She has also told this neighbor the revisionist history that our home life was like Ozzy and Harriet- other than my grandmother let me rebel in junior high and high school, and all of that.  The neighbor remembers first hand mother's actions at the viewing and the funeral, complaining to everyone that I was drinking and using drugs, that I broke my father's heart, etc.  News flash for her, I had never even TRIED drugs.  And I had taken, and maxed out on the MCAT and was preliminary accepted to medical school.  And was a Chem/Biology double major.  She remembered when the closed the casket my mother turning on me and she and her sister savaging me in front of everyone.  She did not know they locked me out of the limo, and my best friends took me to the grave site, and I left my hometown that night with my boyfriend, his mother, and my college roommate and returned to dorm.  
• My mother told her that when dad died, that she was there, holding his hand, blah, blah, blah...
• Truth-  NO.  She was NOT.  I was.  She was holding court in the hallway with the nurses, talking about him like he was already dead.  I held his hand, watched him go, felt his hand go cold in mine... and when she returned to the room, her first words were "It is your fault your dad is dead..."  The three hour ride home with her was horrible, and when I arrived her sister gave me a helping of the same.

I think you get the picture.  This is basically the 'Cliff Notes' edition.  I knew that she lies, of course, and I knew she reinvents history.  But this is further proof that I have no way of knowing what is reality and what is her manipulation and machinations.  And these conversations with this neighbor?  Not many years ago.  Recently.  As in the past several weeks... because she harps on the same stories over and over again.

The neighbor offered to help as she can, and she asked what I was going to do if she keep declining.  

I simply... do... not... know.  I keep saying it, but this is not going to end well.  Oh- and her conversation with me that she made me POD on some of her accounts and the executrix in her new will, yadda yadda?  She told the neighbor I am in for a surprise... that she is leaving it all to the Humane Society.  And honestly, I hope that is true.  A legacy of a hoarded house and all the trappings that go with it?  That gives me nightmares.  I have never wanted a cent from her, and I still don't.  Sad.  I hope her belongings, and any of the money she still has, keeps her company.  She is reaping what she has sown, sadly.  She sits alone every day, on mother's day, on her birthday, on Christmas.  

Hoarding... no one wins.  NO ONE.  Good night everyone.