What is there to really say?

Life. Right now that word makes me want to vomit up my face. I'm not even sure what that means but I like it.  It feels correct for me somehow.

I guess I'm tired of being tired of this situation.

I have a plan (I ALWAYS have a plan, people.) to escape this crazy place in the Spring.  But now (like always) something else has come up.

My "mother" and I have always had an "eh" relationship.  I was a total daddy's girl growing up and my mother's alcoholism, theft, lies, and general whackery did nothing to improve upon our strained relationship.  I look back on my youth and remember all the horrible and stressful times caused by my mother and her issues and am pretty hard pressed to find a moment in time where I felt good, happy, or warm toward my mother.

She certainly wasn't mommy dearest and as she likes to say I'm sure she "did her best" but I still feel major amounts of resentment towards her lack in motherly instinct and her ability to foster a relationship with me.  I'm sure some of that was my fault, being a bratty daddy's girl of a dad who clearly and overtly didn't seem to even like my mother, but how was I as a child supposed to change or fix that?  Where was my guidance to do better by my mother?  Like children, mommies don't come with a user manual.

I am forever hindered by my lack of relationship with my mother because I don't even have the ability to appreciate those that do have the dream mother daughter relationship.  I think people who are close with their mom or feel their mom is their "best friend" are weird.  There, I said it.  It creeps me out.  I always think, "what the hell is wrong with you people?"

I grew up taking care of my mom, hiding things for her, waking her up from a drunken stupor before my dad got home, lying for her, and having to analyze everything she said for truth.  All of this just to maintain the small amount of peace that existed between my parents on a daily basis.  I remember being pulled out of bed one night by my mother and told to pack a few things because we were leaving only to have my father appear in the living room daring her to take "his kids" away from him.  I am not sure how old I was but I recall holding my brother's hand and being caught in a tug-of-war for a bit until my mother relented and we were told to go back to bed.  My mother opened accounts in my name when I was 14, didn't pay the bills, and then hid the collection notices in a large garbage bag in her trunk to avoid getting yelled at by my dad.  One day, I discovered this trash bag and like the traitor I was I turned it over to my dad.  When collectors called and asked to speak for her I was told to tell them she wasn't home.  Instead, I told them to call back and ask for my dad.  Because of my transgressions, I have been told I am a horrible, horrible daughter and have been compared relentlessly to other people's daughters and told how amazing they are in comparison to me.

My parents got divorced when I was 19. (It was announced the same weekend I and my brother moved out of the home- coincidence? I think not.) My mother hooked up with some loser who promptly got her addicted to meth and managed to blow her $50,000 divorce settlement in roughly 4 months.  She eventually left him when he threatened physical violence when the money ran out.  She lost all her savings, her car, and a ton of things she had taken with her when she left my dad. (Which she did by backing a moving truck up to the front porch while he was at work and took anything that wasn't bolted down- except his dresser, one TV, and his recliner.)  She cashed out her 401K to get a new place to live and eventually got away from meth.  I had no idea but she began drinking again during this time.

Things settled down for a bit and for a while she was on track and she seemed to be okay.  I started to visit her from time to time and she seemed stable.  She remarried and they moved to a new place of their own.  I liked this guy and everything was as normal as it could be for a woman like her.

Then one night at work I was illegally browsing the internet and happened upon a DNJ story about a man who had been arrested for a cold case murder in Murfreesboro.  What do ya know?  Hello, step-daddy!  I called and called and got no response so I immediately went to see her after work.  It was true, he had been arrested, and they had had no idea until the police department had come to the door with a task force and arrested him and tossed the entire house.  She was devastated and he was sentenced to 41 years.

The shit storm continued when Dwayne got sick and we went from head above water to drowning and needed a place to stay.  She jumped at the chance and I thought, foolishly, that this could be a great opportunity for us to have a relationship or at least work on one.  Little did I know who my mother had become over the years.  The situation we are in at the moment is the most embarrassing and infuriating I have ever experienced.  This is an all time low for me.  My mother "retired" (she called up and quit after 20+ years the week we moved in) from her job and now sits at home all day smoking cigarettes and weed and drinking beer after beer all day.  There are days when she gets so drunk she urinates on the couch and all over herself and has to change clothes- just like the good ole days.  There are nights when she is so wasted on pills, weed, and beer that she actually asks my husband who he is. (I've been married for almost 9 years.)  I have confronted her on many occasions but she sees no problem with this because she has managed to accumulate a circle of friends that visit her on a daily basis who participate in the same behaviors.

I do not understand this.  I do not want this type of life and do not understand those that embrace it.  Instead, I have found myself to be the subject of ridicule for my level of education, been called various names for my lack of approval, and have been made to feel like a prisoner in my back area of the home.  I wake up on days off from school looking for places to go to avoid her and her group of cronies and the super awesome activities they participate in.  I know my mother will die because of these choices she makes- either the pills, alcohol, a combo of both, or even the lowlife people she associates with.  I feel that my possessions, Dwayne's job, and perhaps my education are at risk by living here.  We're potentially one police bust away from some serious trouble even though we are not involved.  The best part is- I'm not even sure that my mother would tell the truth about the situation and we might go down in flames due to her dishonesty over nothing.

This situation has all been too much for me lately and has had a negative impact on my attitude, my relationship with Dwayne, and has effected my zeal and joy in the things I love the most.  I would not allow my children to be here over the summer and lived with my in-laws to avoid them having to be around this circus of idiocy.  I owe them more and I owe myself more than this.  So, Dwayne and I made a decision to get out in the Spring- come hell or high water.  Roommates, efficiencies, whatever it takes.  I felt great about this and even though I haven't told her and hadn't planned on telling her until after I signed my new lease, I kind of feel like she will be relieved when we are gone too.  That way she can do whatever she'd like free of judgement and she can wrap herself up in her world and be happy again.

The thing is, something always comes up.

She announced recently that she has a lump in her breast.  She was very dramatic about it and made sure that she had a group of cronies around to get a proper reaction (one of the many things I despise about my mother  is that everything is an act and must have an audience) and they all looked to me for my reaction.  My reaction  (no matter the topic) is judged and measured and then evaluated and discussed at length to determine if it was appropriate, or daughterly enough, and if not, what the reasons for that could be.

Today, she told me she hasn't been able to get it seen about (even though she told me she had gone to the doctor about it already, another unnecessary lie) because she hasn't been able to use the car because she's been letting me use it for school. But really it's because she starts drinking so early in the morning that she can't go to the doctor on most days because she has to prepare herself not to drink on the days she picks.  But she uses me and my use of the car as an excuse instead of facing the reality.  Today, for instance, I have a free day until 6:30 pm but she can't go today "because all of the clinics are closed at noon today."  I called and verified that this is a lie and when confronted with that lie, beer in hand, she started yelling at me that if I didn't use the car she would have already gone.  When asked by she said she went already when she DIDN'T she simply said, "We just didn't go."

I shut my door after we hashed out a plan for her to use the car Tuesday morning to go to the doctor (a conversation that started with a mind-blowingly beat-around-the-bush approach that drives me insane) and I realized that I would be a horrible, horrible daughter if I moved out in the Spring if she does indeed have breast cancer.  Why in the world do I even care at this point?  I am already a horrible daughter to her and to all her friends, whose opinions are far superior to her own and mine.  The thought of my mother having breast cancer leaves me with no feeling.  Shouldn't I be scared? Sad? Angry?  The thought of my mother dying leaves me with only a slight guilty feeling of relief.  My main concern is that this diagnosis and my moving shortly afterwards leaves YET ANOTHER opportunity for me to fail as a daughter.

I'm not sure what do at this point or even what to say to her.  I don't know what to say as a daughter, as a person who is so fed up with this failed relationship, or as a woman who has to think of saving herself.  I don't know who to be or who I have the right to be in this.  I just know that this isn't working and if a potential death sentence, or worse yet, a long term, horrible illness (that will surely require me as a daughter to care for her and then my care will be judged and probably deemed not appropriate) doesn't invoke an emotional response in me- is one even there and will it ever be?

I don't think this will change my plans to jump ship in the Spring because I feel that I have tried my best and that you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved- especially someone who apparently loves playing the victim.  So, if I'm a horrible daughter- I might as well save myself and fulfill that label, right?