A ranting

I’ve been the only one helping her since she “broke” her foot.

Even though I’m home, I need to work.  I’m not her live in maid, grocery shopper, dinner partner, sounding board or secretary.  Every time I come up the stairs, or go into her vicinity, she tells me to do something or vents about whatever the hell is bothering her.  Mostly work, but if not that, it’s the neighbors or anything else that she thinks is intentionally slighting her.  Not to mention the constant arguing with the TV. We have different politics, and of course, I’m the wrong one.  And then she gets upset she can’t have a conversation with me about it.  Well no shit, of course I’m going to shut down when I disagree with you.

I want out.  I need out. I actually prefer talking to her on the phone.  I have her most of her attention and I can actually talk.  She still vents like crazy but at least I know there’s an end point.

And I’m responsible for feeding her for some reason.  I’m not her fucking mother or husband, but I can’t do anything spontaneous, or stay out with her telling me I’m being rude or disrespectful or whatever. And I need to go grocery shopping every few days because she only eats things that last a few days.  I dont’ have time for this.  She needs to grow up and be the functioning adult she was when I was growing up.  I don’t even know how we got to this point.


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