My Mother...

... has well and truly returned to her Psychotic self, the same monster that I spent my childhood and teenage years battling. The only person who can help her now is herself - reason is clearly lost on her, as proven by today's hysterical episode. I can't even bother with keeping my personal opinions to myself anymore. Protecting her from what are her real issues isn't going to make things any better. My father seems desperate to stick to quick, short term solutions that pacify my mother, to accede to her crazy demands and to allow her to wallow in self-inflicted misery. I'll let him know what I think - that this will only make things worse, that what we should be doing is to discuss the fundamental issues that are feeding the maelstrom of negativity that she seems to thrive on. He'll probably respond with the stock reply that at the end of the day she's my mother and I have to let her be as she wants to be even if she's in the wrong; that if she gets angry with me I should seek her forgiveness - even if she's in the wrong. And then I'll reply that accepting today's spurious demand would in fact take away the one thing that's she's known as the reason for her being; that allowing her to languish at home doing absolutely nothing will merely increase the sense of irrelevance she already feels; that ultimately both her physical and mental health will be at stake.

He would just say that we should just give it a try, and see what happens.

========

When I was a child and then a teenager, I had no choice but to deal with my mother's demons. Returning from London, I told myself to wait things out first before making the decision to move out. Rental prices are after all astronomical and I wasn't earning much, plus by moving out I would create a rift in the family. After two years of normalcy I felt that things were good and that there was no need to move out, then I adopted a kitten.

Maybe that tempted Fate, who decided my sanity needed a challenge. Now that I can afford to move out, I'm faced with the dilemma of choosing between paying a huge premium for a place that would accept both human and feline; and continuing to live under the same roof as my mother, unsure of which one of us would lose her mind first.