I Welcomed My Elderly Mother into My Home and Now I Regret It; I Can’t Send Her Away and I’m Ashamed Before My Friends.

I took my elderly mother into my home. Now I regret it, I cant send her away, and I feel ashamed in front of my acquaintances.
I need to put this heavy, personal tale on paper because it presses on me like a stone on my chest. Im looking for wise, thoughtful advice to help me escape the quagmire Ive dug for myself.
Each of us carries our own worries and trials. We should resist judging others and instead reach out when someone is drowning in hopelessness with no apparent way out. No one is immunetoday you judge, tomorrow you might be trapped by fate yourself.
My mother, already 80, used to live in a small village near Rouen, in an old, slopingroof house. Her health was failing, her legs gave out, her hands trembled, and she could no longer manage on her own. I saw her fading away alone there, so I brought her to my city apartment. I didnt anticipate the burden I would bear or how it would reshape my life.
At first everything ran smoothly. Mother moved into my threeroom flat in Lyon and seemed to fit the routine. She stayed out of my affairs, keeping to the bedroom I had lovingly prepared for her, complete with a soft bed, a warm blanket, and a small TV on the nightstand. She only left the room to use the bathroom or the kitchen, and I tried to surround her with comfort. I followed the doctors diet recommendationsno fats, minimal salt, everything steamedand bought her expensive medications with my salary. Her pension was meager, barely a token.
After a few months, things began to deteriorate. Urban life bored hergrey, monotonous, the concrete walls closing in. She started setting her own rules, picking fights over trivial matters, turning minor issues into catastrophes. Sometimes it was dust I hadnt cleared in time, other times a soup that wasnt perfect, or forgetting to buy her favorite tea. Nothing pleased her; everything irritated her. Then the manipulation beganshe played on pity, sighed theatrically, and repeated that she lived better in the village than in my prison. Her words cut me like a knife, yet I clenched my teeth and tried not to react.
My patience wore thin. The constant accusations, the shouting, her perpetual dissatisfaction exhausted me. I resorted to taking tranquilizers for my nerves, and after work I stood frozen at the doorway, unable to go inside. Behind that door was not a sanctuary but a battlefield where I lost a little more each day. My life had become a nightmarish loop with no exit.
Sending mother back to the village isnt a solution; she wouldnt survive therethe house is halfruined, without heat or comfort. How could I abandon her to that fate? What would people think? I already hear the disapproving glances and whispers: A daughter who abandons her mother what shame! Im mortified even to entertain the thought, ashamed before others and myself. But I cant keep going like this.
The situation feels like a tightly knotted rope I cant untie. Im drained, empty, and lost. How can I keep living under the same roof? How do I handle her stubbornness, the wall of complaints and grievances, and calm her without losing myself? Im at a dead end, sinking deeper into despair each day.
Has anyone experienced something similar? How did you live with older relatives whose temperament is as harsh as sharp stones that test our patience? How do you keep your sanity when a loved one becomes your toughest trial? Please share your adviceI need a glimmer at the end of this dark tunnel.