Why does everything always fall on me? My mother doesn’t have her life together, but me, at 24, I’m supposed to be a mind reader and know what her plan is? She doesn’t tell me her plan, ever. I’m supposed to come to her. Which isn’t even the slightest bit fair considering I’m working 40some hours a week right now and she quit her job a week and a half ago.
Has she applied to another job yet? Nope. She says she wants to straighten the house out first, but yet has not done a single thing at all. She will bitch and say she’s the only one who does things around the house, but she’s only doing the same basic shit she did while she worked.
Yes, she cooks sometimes. And yes, she’s the only one who does laundry – but she won’t let anyone else touch her fancy front loaders. Somehow it’s our fault it’s on her? Aside from that, she may do dishes here and there. I don’t see her doing much else aside from sitting on the computer all day. I don’t even see her doing hobbies like knitting that much. So please, enlighten me how she’s doing more than the rest of us?
I’m sick of getting yelled at because she stayed up all night and fell asleep on the couch. It’s always the debate, do I wake her or let her sleep? If I wake her, I get yelled at and it takes 30 tries before she gets up (I hate waking her up). If I let her sleep, she wakes up foul because she wasted her day, and it’s my fault that nothing is done. I didn’t tell her to fall asleep on the couch, I had plans to motivate and run the vacuum and do some cleaning. I’m not cleaning if she’s down there, how many times do I have to fucking repeat myself? It’s why I hate cleaning when her boyfriend is around because he’ll just lay on the couch.
I say over and over how much I want to move out, that I think her and I would get along better that way, but somehow I get strung back to being stuck here. It’s my responsibility to get her to get her life together or some shit like that. Like, yes, she’s my mother and I love her, but it’s wearing me out thin. I can’t even enjoy a fucking day off unless I leave town. If I’m home, it’s either told how much we’re going to get done (then nothing gets done until like 8pm, when I have zero motivation to do shit). She doesn’t start laundry until 7pm when she has the entire day! Then she will bitch because no one is awake to help her fold laundry.
She says I’m ass backwards but she procrastinates on everything as much as I do. No wonder I’m the way I am. I’m just tired. So tired. I mentioned in a previous post how her and her boyfriend blow about $600 on cigarettes a month. We’re behind on our bills, I wonder why? It’s sickening, how is this my place or my fault? Why do I have to suffer because of her terrible life choices? I work so hard just to better myself and try to be happy, and she brings me down within an instant. It’s always from her point of view, never anyone else’s.
I just want her to start doing things on her own. She waits until I have a day off and will just sit around not doing much throughout the day. She could get a head start on so much if she would stop bitching about it and just motivate herself. But if I tell her this, it’ll be all, “well you could, too.”
So many times she’ll just tell me how little I do, yet it’s ironic to me that if I don’t do certain things, they don’t get done. Period. Like cleaning out the cats boxes. The one in the kitchen may get sifted if it starts to get bad (it needs to be cleaned everyday, but somehow that’s something I should have to do. I picked one cat, not the other two. They wanted those cats.) The one upstairs gets bad because no one else cleans it. Just me. Ohh and it’s my job to clean them out, too, when we switch them. Apparently no one else is capable of doing it. And they only get switched out when I’m around. John’s too good to do that kind of work or something. I don’t know. I never even see the man clean a dish, yet my mother babies him.
Right now I’m venting because it’s upsetting how ridiculous this entire situation has become. I’m tired of feeling responsible. If I’m not leaving town, it’s like my days off are dedicated to my mother’s whim. If she doesn’t feel like getting in the car to get cigarettes, guess who gets stuck getting them? Me, of course. Despite my bitching and how much I fucking hate buying their cancer sticks that cost so much money. I don’t smoke them, why is it my responsibility. She’s bitched me out some nights how John has to have cigarettes when he wakes up, because God forbid the baby walk up and buy his own shit for once.
I’m just tired, so so tired. I keep preaching about change, but it can’t come fast enough. I can’t handle living with my mothers expectations anymore. Her and I do not agree on many things, and living together makes it worse. She just refuses to acknowledge it because she knows she’s fucked if I leave. Let’s face it, she can’t stick with any job. She’s had like 6 in the last 2 years. It’s a small town, she’s burned so many bridges. She thinks she’s better than what these places have to offer, but she won’t do much to help herself. I don’t know what to do anymore. I really don’t.
A good rant helps me get these thoughts off my chest. Bottling it up is the worst thing to do. Thank you for bearing with me if you’ve read it this far.