OK. So. Four years ago this weekend, in fact, my mom's odd behavior of 2 years was shown to be due to a large brain tumor. It was removed, she survived, and a year later had 2 heart attacks in 3 months. And survived. (Basically, yes, she should've died.)

The years before the brian tumor, Mom lived in a part of my house I spent my IRA to renovate for her use for her retirement home. Yep. No, it wasn't co-dep behavior. We honestly had considered this plan (We being Me & Hubby, the Unit) for over a year before all parties agreed. Mom had her own bath, kitchenette, and a door she could lock and shut us out, and noise-proofing meant we didn't hear each other. It was a lot like having a tenant, just one we knew, and all seemed well.

Then in 2014 her behavior altered. It went bad fast. She even set fires in our house (her bathroom) and such, which we learned after she moved out in late 2015, b/c it was that or lose my mind and my marriage and ven Adult Protective Services worried more for me than her. (I called for her. Whoops.)

Tehre was a lot of medical mayhem involved in this.

And it came right after I suffered a huge trauam in 2011 and was struggling to cope with severe PTSD and physical stuff.

So... Things quiet. Unitl...

This spring. Well, no, Mom's always adding drama, but I have learned to keep my emotions out o fit and step back emotionally, and let it flow past me.

UNTIL ... today.

Mom just started a war with her landlord and got me in the middle, and to be fair, I may have been anyway.

A few weeks ago, a dead body was rotting in one of the apartments in her building. It is managed by a nonprofit that is considered, locally, to be "the good guys". They left that body to stink for 6 days. I know. I witnessed the stink. IT got bad. I kicked up a fuss ----- seriously, what kid wouldn't if their parent was in a place that didn't respond promptly to bad smell complaints and gave different stories? Way different. THree days. Six days. We knock on their doors, I'm told. We call every day, I'm told. Reality: They call every few days to check on tenants, and haven't set foot in the building since 30 March when my state went on shut-down.

Fast forward past the dead body incident.

So, May 7 hits, and Mom gets a note saying sh eunderpaid May's rent.

I have had POA legal and medical since 2016 for good reason. Mom can read, do math, etc., but her impulse control is nonexistent due to the tumor damage to her frontal lobes. Just happens, is what it is, etc.

So I sin the checks. I KNOW her rent is X, and is to be X until November 1, 2020, at which time new lease terms will have been negotiated, and she is fixed income, elderly, etc., so there's a lot more oversight (supposedly) than for "average folks".

THey tell my mom (and don't tell me a thing, btw, refuse to repsond to messages and e-mails) that she owes XYZ for rent, and it's BS. She had no notice of an incraese (30 days required!) and no sig ature of hers on an amended lease and, let me note, I WAS NOT NOTIFIED EITHER.  The previous management company knew to keep me in the loop. These peopel swore to. Obvs, lying. And, obvs, not "good guys" despite rep for non-profit warm fuzzies.

They swore up and down to Mom (in voice-mail) that they'd see her (twice by now) with a copy of the lease to PROVE hteir side.

My copy is a Xerox, not a legit legal one, so doesn't stand up legally.

My mom can't find her copy.

CANNOT FIND HER COPY.

Well, last week, she said "I am not fighting it. Let them charge more. I can't get evicted."

OK. The end.

And then.... Today she sent them a nasty note, and yes, it was nasty, and suddenly, she expects me to ... uh.... Well, frankly, I dunno what. Find her lease copy. (I know where it should be ---- I organized her files last fall so all important docs are in a very obvious organizational system with labels, you'd need to work at it to lose stuff, but hey, this is my mom post-tumor... the woman who helped me survive my childhood etc. is basically no longer in residence in the same body)....

And so I called Adult Protective Services. I said, "Hey she was yours, help her out."

Whoops, so sorry, no can do.

"Excuse me?"

"Go talk to Legal Aid," APS said.

I'm sorry, why is this on me?

APS said, "Well, you have POA."

Yeah, but this wasn't my idea...

*click* *dial tone*

I DO NOT WANT THIS. I don't want to be involved.

MORE TW:

I HAVE NO OTHER RELATIVES WHO WILL INVOLVE TEHMSELVES... Why? Well, Mom post-tuomr is difficult. She gorge-eats and her BMI is over 40 (and had an MRI cancelled b/c she couldn't fit, and she took it as a personal insult)... She wanted me to volunteer to cut her toenails out of the underside of her toes b/c she never takes off her shoes, so the nails grew out, around, and down and under into the pads of her feet. Yes, that's disgusting. No, I didn't do it. PODIATRIST TIME.

But...

I'm it.  Her brother is overwhelmed enoughin his life. My dad and sis are long dead. It's just... me. Hubby stepped out, too. He set up online bill pay to make it easy for me to track her finances, but... Yeah. He's out.

And my PTSD IS SCREAMING like I am shouting, b/c this is reliving a bad anniversary with bad events with bad all over the place. Summer is my worst time of year. Summer is here. This weekend is the anniversary of thet umor discovery, which was a h uge epic of its own (Mom went missing!)....

I just want to...

Y'know, I just want this to NOT  BE. All of it. End. Over. Done. Just... no more. I'm so tired.

I want to set down the burden of living. It hurts. Not like, "Damn, a bad day," but like, "Hello, Abyss, we meet again. So, what looks back at me today? Ah, yes. More abyss. And more abyss after that. And more abyss..."

And I hvae to find the courage or energy or whatevers to call Legal Aid and pray to God that my mom becomes some lawyer's pet project, b/c... I am her kid. And I just need to e her kid. Stay her adult kid, with an adult life, and not be so tired b/c I won't go back to co-dep and my mom wants it that way and I do not, and believe me, a co-dep parent was, in my chilldhood, still an amazingly good parent and role model...

But I'm tired. I'm so tired. I just cry. I was heating water for tea and realized I was crying when I felt wet on theg counter. I started to take a walk, and just stopped from sheer exhaustion after three steps, and stared at the air for a minute before going back inside. Then I didn't know what to do except sit down and stare at more air.

I'm breathing. I'm distracting. I'm... exhausted. And I'm terrified that I can't survive the PTSD from childhood let alone th ere-trauma PTSD from the last decade and/or Mom situation and...

And my therapist is not available this week.

Trying to stay puma-strong, but it's not working.

Thanks. For listening. Peace.