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

I took my elderly mother into my home. I now regret that decision; I cant send her back and I feel ashamed in front of my acquaintances.
Today I feel compelled to put my heavy, personal story on paperit weighs on my chest like a stone. I need a wise, thoughtful piece of advice to figure out how to escape the quagmire Ive dug for myself.
Each of us carries our own worries and trials. We should 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 situationstoday you may pass judgment, and tomorrow you might find yourself trapped by fate.
I welcomed my mother into my place. She is already 80 and used to live in a village near Rouen, in a dilapidated house with a sloping roof. She could no longer manage aloneher health was failing, her legs gave way, her hands trembled. I saw her fading away there, alone, and decided to bring her to my city apartment. I hadnt realized the burden I would assume nor the impact it would have on my life.
At first everything went smoothly, almost effortlessly. Mom settled in my threeroom flat in Lyon and seemed to keep to herself. She didnt interfere with my affairs, staying discreet in the bedroom I had lovingly prepared for her. I had arranged every comfort: a soft bed, a warm blanket, a small TV on the bedside table. She only left the room to use the bathroom, the toilet, or the kitchenI strived to surround her with ease. I monitored her diet, cooking only what doctors recommended: no fats, minimal salt, everything steamed. The medicationexpensive but essentialwas purchased by me with my salary. Her pension? A pitiful sum, barely enough for the basics.
After a few months, things began to deteriorate. Urban life started to bore hermonotonous, gray, like the concrete walls around us. She began imposing her own rules, picking fights over the slightest matters, turning tiny inconveniences into huge dramas. 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 startedshe played on pity, sighed theatrically, kept insisting shed rather be in the village than in my prison. Her words cut me like a knife, yet I swallowed them, clenching my teeth, trying not to react to her provocations.
My patience finally ran out. I was drained by her constant reproaches, her shouting, her perpetual dissatisfaction. I began taking antianxiety pills, and after work I found myself standing at the entrance, unable to go back inside. Behind that door there was no cozy refuge, only a battlefield where I lost a little more each day. My life had turned into a nightmare with no escape.
Sending Mom back to the village isnt a solution. She wouldnt survive therethe house is halfruined, lacking heat or comfort. And how could I simply abandon her to that fate? What would people think? I can already picture their disapproving looks, hear the whispers behind my back: A daughter who abandons her mother what a shame! Im embarrassed even to consider it, ashamed before others and before myself. But I cant go on.
The situation feels like a tightly tied knot I cant untie. Im exhausted, 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 seniors 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 of light at the end of this dark tunnel.