My Mom and I

My biggest weakness to my “superhero”, weight-loss self: letting my mother dictate my emotions (even if she isn’t telling me how to act).

My Mom was (and I suppose, technically still is) a prescription drug addict and alcoholic. Since I was born, she has a habit of drinking (popping pills didn’t come until after one of her many spine surgeries to fix her degenerate disc disease when I was around 13ish) and acting like a damn fool. This has followed me in almost every aspect of my life.

She would drink and drink (although I don’t think I ever physically saw her do it) and her and my Dad would get into huge fights. It was terrible and I remember most of them (some physical, some not). There was even a time when I was 13 that I had to call the police on my parents, and my Dad ended up going to jail. My Dad and I also have relationship issues (he’s still mad that I called the police on him and other fun, therapy-talk-time stuff).

Although later in life, my Mom was diagnosed at Bipolar, I believe that most of her actions should not fall solely on a diagnosis as an “excuse” for her behavior. We are still responsible for our actions and a part of me is still so angry that I get bitched at for being “moody”, but God forbid we all talk our actions in general as a family.

It was particularly bad while I was in middle school. I remember having to basically babysit her once I got wind of her acting strange before my dad got home. She would leave the stove on, walk around the house and put random things into the refrigerator and cabinets. She would become SO mad when I said “why are you doing this to us!” I would cry and cry and cry…I felt like I was living in Hell.

I remember trying to find her “stash”; tearing apart the house just to know what she was taking. If was really rare that we found it. Whenever confronted, my mom would say “I didn’t take anything” and then acting like we were the assholes when we asked her what she took.

There was a time she even stole a doctor’s prescription pad and was arrested. She did not face charges, as the doctor said she has children and needs to go to rehab. My Mom says that she did deserve to go to jail, but was very thankful that he decided on a lesser charge. That did change her for a very long time.

(Pet peeve of mine: when a random celebrity says “oh, I’m bipolar, so that explains why I’m such an outlandish dumbass” and the public now thinks all bipolar people are just…well, stupid in general).

Now, however, it seems like when she takes so much as a generic allergy pill (Benadryl), she acts very strange. She easily forgets things, goes room to room and putting things where they do not belong. She doesn’t act drunk, but I get so upset. I also think she may be experiencing the early stages of Alzheimer’s (that is what her mom died from).

She does “mess up” every once in a while. This past year, she took pills and nearly died twice. It has been nearly 10 years since she did this (not intentionally, she claims, but just to get high). I’m on edge and now see a therapist again. I feel like I can’t handle anything outside of this stress and it sucks.

I have tried talking to her, but she just says “you shouldn’t rely on me for your feelings” and is supportive of me. Yes, that helps, but it doesn’t change the fact that she does it and I become so upset knowing she might die. I feel like this has been my entire life and I so desperately want to escape.

Which brings me to my next point: I NEED TO FIND A DECENT PAYING JOB. Any job would help me escape this hell, but minimum wage isn’t going to help me leave this house.

I have two degrees: Associate in Science and a Bachelor in Business Administration and Human Resource Management. The problem with having that bachelor’s degree is experience. Yes, I have several years’ administrative experience, but for some fucking reason, it’s not good enough for employers.

I don’t regret getting my degrees. I don’t regret my education, but I do regret the debt. I know I’m certainly not alone in my predicament, but it doesn’t ease the level of “suck” it brings.

You know, it’s strange. My parents and I get along more than ever, but it’s like I have this fear, like in a horror movie, that it will “rise again”. This year alone has knocked me off my ass back into hell, and I’m seeking treatment for help.

I know this dependence is not my Mom trying to “cling” to me; it’s me trying to cling to her. I feel responsible for her. I feel like when I leave this house, she will die without me. I do desperately do not want to feel this way anymore, and when I first told my therapist, she kind of looked irritated when I asked “what is going to happen to her once I leave?” She just plainly said “She will just go on with her life and it won’t be your problem anymore”. Easier said than done! That’s why I’m there. I know I need help, so lady, please help me.

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