I actually have something happy to report today. I’m not going to whine or do another “woe is me” post. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high, but I am pretty excited about this…
Unfortunately my news isn’t as great as “I’m moving out!” but believe me, that WILL happen.
By the weekend, we will all have a bed and a bedroom. Mom and dad bought two queen sized mattresses today and they’re being delivered on Saturday, and we’re just going to power through this horrible project and get both bedrooms in this God-forsaken house done. Amazing, right? At least we’ll have a good night’s sleep and some level of normalcy.
If you’re wondering “What about the beds you already have?” well, mom and dad’s bed got ruined by a forgotten bag of sweet potatoes a few years back and we finally threw it out last year. And my twin bed that hasn’t seen me since 2004? Well that’s going to be my grandmother’s bed because she has basically moved into our house and now requires 24/7 supervision because she came down with a rare auto-immune skin disease. Lovely, right?
This “A Bed For Everyone” thing is because of my sweet dad who listened to me as I had a complete nervous breakdown after a week of things getting progressively worse around here. I said how tired I was of seeing people settle for this kind of life and how stuck I feel watching them just disintegrate like this. And he literally shocked me by getting mom into a semi-good attitude about putting our needs first for once and getting us all into a good sleeping pattern with peace and quiet and clean bedrooms and space to ourselves.
It was a pretty emotionally charged week for us. Gramma had been badgering mom and telling her to “zip it” until mom finally had a meltdown, I almost got killed on Valentine’s Day by a semi truck who ran a red light (seriously if I had been two more seconds down the hill, it would have been over), and we have all been driven to wit’s end by this dysfunctional house and the fact that everything is heightened now that Gramma has had to stay over almost every night (or calling us at 1:30am, 4:30am, 5:30am until we just said, fine stay overnight). Now that she’s around all the time, mom is super mad, super sad, super volatile and with Gramma on MY COUCH, where do you think I get to sleep? On the floor in the living room. That’s right. Last night before I totally lost it and cried myself to sleep, I laid my bathrobe on the floor under my blankets for a little extra insurance that I wouldn’t wake up unable to move. Nearly 26 years old, sleeping on the floor in her parents’ house. Perfect, right?
So let’s just cross our fingers that this project doesn’t take the life right out of us once and for all, but instead gives us the peace of mind to continue making positive changes in our lives.
hi :) i’m not in the uk although i wish i was :) thank you for writing, and for empathizing with me and my situation… means a lot to me. i’m so so glad you are in a beautiful home of your own… you deserve every minute of enjoyment in it! xo rose
Wow so this is my mom’s story. This house full of absolutely useless, old, unimportant crap is her story which has now become part of my story too.
Her story is getting sadder by the minute, too, as she’s decided to devote her already-in-shambles life to fixing *her* mom’s life. That sounds a lot like what I’m doing, doesn’t it. So yeah, now my mom is trying her best to keep my gramma out of a nursing home which means being tethered to our house, cooking for her, having fights about taking showers and wearing decent clothes because she has decidedly given up on life. And having not one but two people who have decidedly given up on life in this house is, well, just unbelievable.
And then there’s my dad. He snapped at work because some of his coworkers are not doing their jobs and it finally got to him. Dad, who’s slogan has always been “You’re the only one who can ruin your day,” has finally lost it. And it’s no wonder because what do you expect when you go to work and deal with idiots, realize you’ll be working long into your supposed-to-be-retired years because you have no money, because your hoarder wife got laid off of her only job back in the seventies and decided to be a HOMEMAKER of all things, never contributing to the household finances. Then you come home to not only her, but her daughter (who at age 25 is not helping the finances of the house by staying stuck in this mess herself), and her mother who is now refusing to let people help her and take care of her, who causes an intense amount of stress and who ignored requests to help by writing a check of $100/month for food and care because that’s a good deal considering if she had normal people in her life she would have been spending $7000/month or something equally insane at a nursing home for the past three years since her husband died. Then top that all off with the fact that you can’t sleep because you’re all worked up about your family and oh yeah you sleep on a couch where you’ve been since twenty+ years ago. So he’s finally snapped, understandably.
Next month marks one decade since my bedroom became uninhabitable. February 2004 was when things officially went south and never in my wildest nightmares did I think ten years later I would be sitting here in the same bedroomless, misery I was in back then.
But now the fault shifts over to us because I’m not sixteen anymore. I’m more than capable of saving myself. And my dad is sixty years old and has been tolerating this insanity longer than me, so he is more than capable of saving himself. You see, it’s still my mom’s fault, but now it has become ours for remaining stuck, remaining in this perpetual state of “things will get better”, remaining in this person’s life who is without a doubt hopeless.
If I hadn’t bailed my parents out a few years back, I would have had enough savings to leave a long time ago. But looking forward? I guess when I get a better job. As of today I have $109.44 to my name.
The other day Mom had a major melt-down/anxiety attack, I thought I was going to have to call 911 because she was so totally out of it. And I guess after a while we discovered that she’d forgotten to take her pills… well oh my God if that’s what happens if she’s off her meds for one day… that’s scary. So meanwhile she’s telling me that she’s completely screwed up everyone’s lives and I’m thinking well pretty much, but of course I didn’t say that. She became so remorseful that nobody is sleeping well and we’re all sleeping on couches, and I said, “Mom, do you think it would have been better if I had a beautiful room all my life with a beautiful bed, and a mother that hates me? Even though things aren’t the way they should be, at least you have loved me all my life.” And then she said, “You shouldn’t have to have one or the other.”
Kind of sort of maybe some kind of a breakthrough? She’s gonna start cleaning out our house and living life and everything’s gonna be okay?
One week later she had a totally out of control freak-out yelling session with my dad about everything and nothing all at once. About how she shouldn’t have married him, she should have done something with her life, about money or lack-there-of, about how he treats her mom (and let’s remember he only loses patience with my gramma because she’s impossible and he’s absolutely losing it himself at age 60, after having worked all his life since age 19 and then to be treated like nothing and sleeping on a couch with a wife who half the time hates his guts and a mother-in-law who won’t give a penny for all the time and effort that has gone into taking care of her for the past three years). Then the very next night it was my turn obviously, so she went ballistic on me too. Made me feel like absolutely nothing, claimed I team up with my dad against her, claimed nothing ever meant anything to me, claimed that I don’t mean anything I say about things getting better or that I love her or that I’m just like my dad (something that she’s said for my entire life, and it’s always in the most derogatory way possible). I mean, both nights. Just screaming at us. With like fire in her eyes - hatred - I didn’t think she would ever snap out of it.
I’m done. I don’t know what to do. She has completely fried my brain and I’m afraid I’ve been an idiot for tolerating this for so long that I’ve lost my ability to run away from this mess. I’m absolutely at wit’s end and can cry at the drop of a hat and the worst part is, this is a self-made prison I’ve put myself in and purposefully thrown away the key, and I’m so sick of being so capable of leaving but just not being able to.
You know that saying “You’re the only person who can ruin your day”? Yeah, my dad lives by it, and even he’s slipping. He can’t take this anymore and it’s finally wearing him down to nothing. And I know I’m the one that has done this to myself. My own mother is the one who’s the problem, but I’m the one that let her do this to me. I let her smother me all my life and when I was old enough to understand that I didn’t deserve or need to have this in my life, I could have gotten out. But I decided to be passive and simultaneously blame her for being a hoarder and stay stuck right alongside her in the helpless attempt to save her. And I am such a hypocrite. It’s tiring to be this big of a hypocrite. I know how to encourage everybody else in my life to stand up for themselves and not get taken advantage of and not be a doormat and “what you allow continues” and all that crap. But it’s all talk because I know about how to get out of this prison, and I’ve seen other people do it, and I’ve heard about other people doing it and getting away from much worse than me. And yet I cannot do it myself.
"We are very good lawyers for our own mistakes, but very good judges for the mistakes of others."
You can do it. You know the thing with hoarders is that they turn people who are trying to help them or help themselves into the enemy. We care a lot about what they think of us, but it’s a waste of time. The more I care about what they would think of me if God forbid I moved out, the longer I stay stuck in this prison. It is really encouraging that you already feel like you have a way out when you turn 18. I am slowly figuring that out for myself, but you’re so many steps ahead of me when I was your age. Please don’t worry about their opinions. Worry only about getting away from them, no matter how painful that might be. Believe me it’s worth it… I know I’m a hypocrite, but from what I can imagine for my future, it’s worth it. I think being homeschooled kept us much closer to our parents’ problems and made us so much more tethered to them and willing to stay and help fix them. But we have to remember that’s not our job, okay?
Please don’t end up 25 years old and stuck. When you see the window of opportunity, run for your life and I promise you’ll never ever regret it. You can do it. Much love. xo
I’m not writing people off, I’m just so tired of always being the one trying to be a friend. If I have to do everything short of coercing my “friends” to spend time with me, I don’t want to be around them anyway. It’s only ever about what I can do for them and I’m sick to death of being used. Obviously no one wants to be with me for whatever reason and I’m not about to beg just because boo-hoo I have no friends. A person can only be ignored so long before they become the ignorers.