I Welcomed My Elderly Mother into My Home—Now I Regret It and Feel Ashamed in Front of My Friends.

I took my elderly mother into my home, and now I regret it; I cant send her away and I feel ashamed in front of my acquaintances. Today I feel compelled to put my heavy, personal story onto paper because it presses on my chest like a stone. I need a wise, thoughtful piece of advice to understand how to escape the quagmire I have dug for myself.
Each of us carries our own worries and trials. We must learn not to judge others, but to reach out when someone is drowning in hopelessness with no apparent way out. No one is immune to such circumstancestoday you may pass judgment, and tomorrow you could find yourself trapped by fate.
My mother, now eighty, had lived in a village near Rouen in an old house with a sloping roof. Her health was failing, her legs gave way, her hands trembled, and she could no longer manage on her own. Watching her fade away alone out there, I decided to bring her to my city apartment. I didnt anticipate the burden I would bear nor the impact on my life.
At first everything ran smoothly. Mom moved into my threeroom flat in Lyon and seemed to respect the order. She stayed out of my affairs, kept to the bedroom I had lovingly prepared for her, complete with a soft bed, a warm blanket, and a small TV on the bedside table. She left the apartment only for the bathroom, toilet, or kitchen, and I surrounded her with comfort. I watched her diet, cooking only what doctors recommended: no fats, minimal salt, everything steamed. I bought the expensive yet necessary medication with my salary. Her pension? A pitiful sum, barely enough for the basics.
After a few months the situation deteriorated. City life began to bore hergray, monotonous, the concrete walls closing in. She started imposing her own rules, picking fights over the smallest things, turning trivial matters into crises. 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 manipulations beganshe played on my pity, sighed theatrically, and kept claiming she lived better in the village than in my prison. Her words cut like knives, yet I bit my tongue and tried not to react.
My patience ran out. I was exhausted by her relentless accusations, her screams, her perpetual dissatisfaction. I began taking tranquilizers for my nerves, and after work I would stand frozen at the doorway, unable to enter. Behind that door there was no comforting cocoon, but a battlefield where I lost a little more each day. My life had become an endless nightmare.
Sending Mom back to the village isnt an option. The house there is halfruined, without heat or comforts, and she wouldnt survive. How could I abandon her to that fate? What would people think? I already hear the disapproving glances and whispers behind my back: A daughter who abandons her mother what a shame! I am ashamed just to imagine it, ashamed before others and before myself. But I cant go on.
The situation feels like a tightly knotted rope I cannot untie. I am drained, depleted, lost. How can I continue living under the same roof? How do I handle her stubbornness, the wall of complaints and grievances? How can I soothe her without losing myself? Im at a dead end, sinking deeper into despair each day.
Have any of you faced similar stories? How did you live with elders whose temperament is as harsh as sharp stones that test our patience? How do you keep your sanity when a loved one becomes your greatest trial? Please share your adviceI need a glimmer of light at the end of this dark tunnel.