The desire to SHOUT OUT LOUD

My mum.

She always wanted to go to Argetina to learn to tango.  Too late now.



I feel like screaming loud about this and at the same time feel tremendous guilt.

My mother has friends who are demanding and needy and ALWAYS have been. 

My mother has always collected extremely needy friends who have tragic lives who need her to mother them. ALL her friends are like this. I can't think of any of her close friends (many are now dead) who have not rung or visited for long regular unofficial counselling sessions with my mother. This has been going on since I was a child. The house was always full of other people who needed my mother.

I can only recall three months in my life with my parents when other people weren't living in our house because they needed my mother's help. Other kids, other adults, all needy, needy, needy. The fuckers.

My mother is worn out and exhausted and, still they keep coming, and she keeps giving, and I fucking resent it so much because I have to look after my mother and I want her to have fun and look after herself BEFORE anyone else just for a change.  Also I'm t pathetic 'maiden' (hah) aunt, doomed to tend to the parents until she (me) is a dried up old hag.

My mother is beginning to lose her marbles - perhaps because she is so stressed out over all her needy friends who have dementia, sick grandchildren, are alcoholics, or chronic gamblers or a combo of any of the above. Mother of course has me to worry about, a daughter with a major mental health problem, plus my brother and my crazy sister and their kids. Then there's the rest of the world.  

What tipped the 'I want to shout' balance was yesterday, she put my cashmere coat into a shopping trolley to bring it into the house - I found it this morning, crumpled and in a ball in the trolley.  


The coat is one I treasure. I was helping her pack to go visit one of her needy friends with gifts of new duvet covers and cushions for their home, as they are finally coming out of hospital. I washed the quilt cover and put it on, packed everything up for Mum so it would be easier for her. I suggested she take the trolley so it would be easier for her to manage the light, but bulky load. She agreed.

I found my crumpled coat stuffed into the trolley.  I then wanted to shout very loudly at her. I resisted the urge.

I asked her if she put it in the trolley and she said "yes, when we came back from the market, yesterday, but I forgot about it, sorry." I told her I'd just had it dry cleaned. "Oh did you?"

I couldn't look at her, I was so mad.

Then I helped her into her car with all the things for her friend in hospital.

I am still furious about the coat but more about decades of my watching mother always putting the world before her self (and - selifshly - before me!) Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

I am furious that I am dong 80 percent of the caring for my mother.  My family need to do more, but she lies to them about how ill/tired she is.  

I end up doing most of the nurturing and right now I feel like I'm the one who needs the nurturing, in this sick, goat fucked, dysfunctional family of ours. Yes, I am having a selfish tantrum, but I feel like it.

I see my shrink Tuesday. Thank God for that.