My mother is a hoarder. I thought she was getting herself together but she isn't. About three months ago she told me she was waiting for her cat to die, that it was a natural process. The cat had stopped eating and was falling over occasionally. She had not taken the 16 year old cat to the vet since it was like a year old. I explained to her that the cat could not tell her if it was hurting or sick, but that it would be cruel to not find out what was wrong with her. Mom said she didn't want to treat the cat - I again explained that it would not be cruel to euthanize the cat, but that the cat would die in horrible pain if she did not do *something* so we took the cat, found out it was in kidney failure, and had a heart murmur.
She got the cat euthanized. She got a new cat. It was after I had gone to visit to meet the new cat that I realized that my mother's home smelled pretty bad. Now, her toilet had been broken for about 6 months, but it still worked if she poured a bucket of water through it. However, I found out that she has now been going to the bathroom in a garbage bag stuck in the toilet. She didn't think it was a problem. She didn't want to have someone fix it. I freaked out and told her she had to fix it or I wasn't coming over anymore. She asked "do you want us to not talk anymore, because that is where this conversation is headed" well I could not believe that she would value a filthy feces filled toilet more than me. She did. She has not spoken to me in almost two months. I heard from my grandmother that she did get the toilet fixed. It took her two months of shitting in a garbage bag to decide to take care of the problem. Not that this is the worst thing in the world, but I invited her to my first art show, and she didn't come. Then I invited her to another, she didn't want to come. I asked if she would ever come to one of my shows, she said no - it is too much effort. Well fuck her. It's too much effort for me to give a shit if she burns to death in that firetrap of a house she lives in.
The rest of my family says I should not have spoken to her or mentioned calling adult protective services, that I should have talked to her sister first. Well my mother told me not to tell the rest of the family - which is completely inappropriate. I understand her shame but I can not keep her secrets anymore. She did so many bad things to me, in front of me, and around me that the idea of keeping even one of her secrets is too much for me anymore.
My family says that because she is their daughter and sister, they will choose her every time, instead of me. Unless it's my birthday, which they have skipped and asked me to reschedule in the past. One fucking day a year. Fuck these people. I'm done.
So now I have no parents, and no family. I'm 34 years old. My father has been dead for 14 years - I never knew him so I guess I'm not missing anything.
I saw a therapist when I was about 11 or 12. She said my problem was that I needed to stop being the parent in our relationship. My mother and aunt said I lied, that I was a bad kid, pathological and sociopathic, and that I had manipulated the therapist to get her to say that. They were getting drunk in front of me every night. Once, my mother stripped to her underwear and listened to the same Cher song for three hours straight at top volume, singing along and drinking and painting a hideous abstract painting. She frequently hosted parties for her scumbag coworkers and had me serve their drinks and empty their ashtrays. I was 11. It was not a good time.
Anyway, I just had to share this somewhere. I long to put it on my personal website, but I have this last clinging bit of misplaced loyalty that won't quite let me do it. I hope I can get over that, because all this shit would make a great book.