I let my elderly mum move in with me, and now I regret itbut I cant ask her to leave. Im ashamed in front of my friends.
Today, I just need to get this off my chest. Its so personal, so heavy, its like a weight pressing down on me. I need advicesomething wise and thoughtfulto help me dig myself out of this mess Ive landed in.
Weve all got our own struggles, havent we? We should know better than to judge others, especially when someones drowning in despair with no way out. Truth is, none of us are immunetoday youre the one shaking your head, tomorrow it could be you trapped by lifes twists.
I took my mum in. Shes 80, used to live in a little village near York in this old cottage with a sagging roof. She couldnt manage alone anymoreher health was failing, her legs giving way, her hands shaking. I couldnt bear the thought of her fading away there by herself, so I brought her to my flat in London. But I had no idea how heavy the weight would be, or how much itd turn my life upside down.
At first, it was alright, smooth sailing. Mum settled into my three-bed flat, kept to herself, didnt interfere. Id set up her room with caresoft bed, warm throw, telly on the side table. She only had to step out for the loo or kitchen, and I made sure she was comfortable. Cooked her the right mealslow fat, steamed veg, minimal salt. Her medspricey, but necessarycame out of my own pocket. Her pension? Barely enough to scrape by.
But after a few months, things fell apart. City life wore on herdreary, grey, all concrete and noise. She started laying down the law, picking fights over nothing, blowing tiny things out of proportion. Dust I hadnt wiped up, soup not made just right, forgetting her favourite tea. Nothing pleased her. Then came the guilt tripsthe dramatic sighs, the I was better off in the village speeches, calling my flat her prison. Her words cut deep, but I bit my tongue, tried not to rise to it.
My patience ran thin. The constant nagging, the shouting, her endless dissatisfactionit wore me down. I started taking pills just to steady my nerves, and after work, Id linger outside my own front door, dreading going in. Home wasnt a safe place anymoreit was a battleground, and I lost every day. My life had turned into a nightmare with no way out.
Sending her back to the village? Not an option. She wouldnt survivethe cottage is falling apart, no proper heating, no comforts. And how could I live with myself if I did? What would people say? I can already see their disapproving looks, hear the whispers: A daughter dumping her own mother shameful. It burns me up inside. But I cant go on like this.
Its like a knot I cant untie. Im exhausted, drained, lost. How do I live with her under the same roof? How do I handle the stubbornness, the endless complaints? How do I keep her happy without losing myself? Im stuck, and every day, I sink deeper into this hopelessness.
Has anyone else been through this? How did you manage living with older relatives who rub you raw, like sandpaper on skin? How do you keep your head when someone you love becomes your biggest trial? Pleaseif youve got any advice, throw me a lifeline. I need some light at the end of this dark tunnel.
