The Frustrations of Living with a Dysfunctional Mother

The fawns from 88 South Road in Londonderry seem to shriek through my ears. My mother’s ego has been baked in as her being the primary caretaker because I am not able to be my own autonomous self.

It’s getting really sad as I get older this old woman just continues to treat me like a perpetual child. From excessive dialog. Having to “just”-ify things, come right upstairs to the kitchen to “investigate” some sound, and this horrible arrogance of taking control of things just to have domination because she’s insecure in other parts of her life. I am not diagnosing her, but I also suspect she’s a Highly Sensitive Person, where there’s constant self-surveillance, which sucks the people around her, who she feels she needs to “protect”

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Life and it’s Challenges

I got sick again for the second time in just over a couple months. I got infected late last Friday, and I’m still really tired and stuffy.

As it approached the fifth month of my grandmother passing away, there’s been more uncertainty. My mother has not taken the loss well. Some of her behaviors noticed early on she has apparently reflected on. One of the reasons why she said to me in direct phrase “been a homebody” was she was afraid of something happening to her and I’d be fully alone. She also doesn’t feel mother’s presence. She’s even contemplated selling the house.

My mother still hasn’t reached out for support from the hospice care. I did find things that would’ve been useful for her, but this is the hyper-strong female choses, is stubborn to try to grieve a bit more better. Instead, she results in other acquaintances acting as their therapist while my mother tells the complete play by play story including the hospice’s front desk lady’s name in her stories.

Her work environment  is not that healthy either. A co worker whose got an annoying personality is becoming an injustice. My mother’s work ethic is her own curse. It’s hard for her to emotionally detach from. If the person has annoying personality, but is doing more worse stuff, annoying habits shouldn’t be the most outrage.

Later this month will mark the 6th month mark. I’m already preparing for the worse.

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What the HELL is wrong with my Mother?

Thursday was wild. My mother went into a very mind numbing breakdown. On Friday she owned-up and recovered and we opened up. And she also even admitted selling the house because she sees my grandmother in the house still. By yesterday, my mother looked at the Lock Screen of me holding my grandmother in the hour or two following her passing.

She as a bit erratic last night. Today, as well-anticipated Super Bowl is near, my mother is binge watching CSI (ironically that takes place in Las Vegas).) Just before 1:00 was there anything on the on screen guide of any NFL Films documentaries of the two teams like would air when I would watch the Bowl for the Patriots. But when i tuned to CBS, I found a documentary on the history of their long time pre-game show The NFL Today. Well produced, I came right down at 1:05 to check and she had no interest when I came down the stairs in excitement, she thought it some real breaking news.

Because my mother’s lack of self regulation, we were supposed to play a board game and sure I could’ve checked in to be clear (and not assume, which is very signature of co-dependent relationships), but she looked like she wasn’t interested in that either.

I would excuse my mother, but if I was to quantify these episodes in the last 20 years, I’d go into the low four figures. To say I cannot be annoyed or inconvenienced at my age in my life would make the older people in my life a bit childish on their part. yes, my grandmother fucking died, and she was only in hospice for less than 72 hours. Sure the American healthcare system sucks, but does that mean that I am supposed to be subjected to already alleged-borderline personalities and the menopause factor?

It’s been only 20 or so weeks following the unfortunate, the sudden but slowed death of my loved one impacted me but you never hear me make it a justification of emotional unavailability. My mother isn’t home emotionally and the living room is also her bedroom for the forcesable future. A room where you can’t put your emotions at the door because that’s also where you sleep.

For those who are keeping tabs, she hasn’t seek out help. Relying on books and Meta fan pages to rationalize her grief, parasocial connections is helping her carry on as I still feel lonely going through this myself.

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Leave the ship…because the family is refusing to course-correct

I am sorry that my grandmother died, but after yet another subdue Christmas, and instead of celebrating what my grandmother wanted, the old woman preferred to be sad. Both of us have gotten really sick (wether it’s COVID or not it’s unclear) so that level of static uncertainty, of a borderline personality life is more complex than the people I’m dealing with.

To prevent holiday anxiety, my mother has taken the Twelve Days Of Christmas, (meaning when you look at the letter of the word, of, means following December 25th.) Great idea, but can we at least have one year of a Christmas, and even make it somewhat positive of what my grandmother would want? Normalcy is the part to recovery. Granted, I am told repeatedly people grieve in their own ways, and yes, my mother will probably be randomly triggered for the most random reasons, because she lived her live randomly to date. And if I get reflection of her on that, that would be a nice step forward in each other’s lives!

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On Reserves (August – September 2023)

Just over a couple weeks taking a 2 night stay in Keene, my grandmother started to develop her issues that resulted her untimely death in late September. For more than 1/2 of August, she had stayed at the nearby hospital. The 2nd stay was for 2 straight weeks going into September. Then not only 4 days later, she got brought via ambulance, then was basically on her death bed, unbegntost to us, then about a week later (would’ve been a day earlier but due to the alleged storm that was Hurricane Lee, the homebound trip via a private ambulance, and little would I know that it would be three days later she’d be gone.

This narrative is not about my grandmother, but I am not also trying to come off as a victim or whining. This story is what happens when you have no one else to fall on, but then you become someone else’s “rock”, being the default manly figure, to a guy that’s already been depleted. Hence, why I refer this to being “on reserves”.

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Non Autistic Mothers Trivializing Autistic Sons (for Power?)

The headset port on my Mac mini (as you may know if you own one from the early 10s) “pops” out audio as probably for some energy consumption to only send audio electrons when it thinks there’s audio to playout. Because your’s truly forgot to turn off the receiver for hte stereo system the Mini was plugged into, as I use that to playout edits, my grandmother didn’t get sleep last week, called the mother and the ol woman went to check it out. It does sound like a critter noise, but regardless overnight, my mother doesn’t just go in the room, she goes right to where my keyboard is in the heart of the edit bay, the sacred location to where i am now just doing editing for newsgathering.

I did believe the claim the following morning the old woman said that she didn’t look, but that center spot where my Aeron sits on, is something that only a true professional amateur would get. My mother is like the ignorant director who thinks magic can be done by a keystroke. The living room is a screening room. Critiques for the sake of critiquing. The passive agressive nature has gotten so bad, that I wouldn’t even share my work – even to my own grandmother who often is like the middle person in many of these spats.

It makes me wonder how much I got fucked over in the last couple of decades where the crown was given to my mother and any king status (that is nothing in 2022 compared to the stereotype of being a “brat”). Worse is just how I have less support than I had 3 years ago. I also have people who are just so out there. It’s like I am cheating with two women (my mother and a support staff) that are almost identical, but it varies by day. But I can’t bitch about either one too much, because both women are allies and enemies at the same time.

It’s so crazy.

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Where’s my mother?

If I had to point to a lineup to identify my mother, I wouldn’t be able to.

Nor can I identify her presently. I am not sure who my “real” mother is but I am lonely and confused, but such fuzzy memories of being a toddler has since vanished in reality.

The other day, my mother was supposed to go to work up in Manchester, but overslept (which was highly ironic because MNF ended early, for a Monday Night standard, 11:10 ET if you are keeping tabs.) So I was expecting to do some work in the basement to tidy up the place because I have too much crap and not enough time to do anything w/ them.

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The Crap that is “Family Supports”

For many years I have been familiar with the “Family Support” system. It’s exactly what you think it would mean, the family about the individual with a disability without the individual’s attention or presence. The siblings and other family members seem to have this obligation that they are supposed to be the only primary support for that individual. So what does that mean? A lot of stress to occur… so where do they go for respite?

Before COVID-19, there used to be annual conferences, again for the protected-class that is “family support” people, caretakers, parents, siblings, etc. For many years, I’ve been in arguments of why the hell the family should be the primary caretaker of a disabled hierarchal child? Where are family friends? Where is a friend-like figure? Where are cousins? Why the hell should families be the only ones?

For them families feeling obligated to take care of the hierarchal disabled child, this could be extremely taxing. As a result then you get parents that become cockier in age, with the dreams they’ll outlive their kids or hope to bury them because they won’t have to worry about who takes care of them.

What if I told you this could also apply to higher functioning people? What if I told you my family thinks they are obligated to take care of me? Can’t have a bae (err a “date” since I don’t even think I’ll be getting a temporary girlfriend at this point), can’t I have a bestie be there during one day a week or some crazy shit? Why is it ones I can’t eff with?

Maybe it’s by design. But I sure as hell hate “family supports” just as I fucking hate “nuclear families”. They can suck it!

When my Mother Lost Me…

My mother’s social network is very small, mostly two couples, that lean hard right. That barely understands this hot mess of my ASD, that is slightly below typical, but slightly above the average atypical. One of her “friends” has an un’dx case of ADHD, because of course it’s just like ASD. Notice how sarcastic I mean… it’s completely different. While the Fraud on Broad is dead, I believe this what infers to my “low-average IQ” that Ms. Bolick was selling to “the system” as broken-goods.

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