It’s been a while since I’ve shared any thoughts on a Monday…

Last Tuesday was mom’s birthday, because my oral surgery got delayed, I headed into the office. By 2 PM, my manager asked why I was still there and told me to go home. “I don’t want to.” I told him.

“Why?” He asked.

“Mom and I had a fight.”

“Oh, then feel free to stay.”

Eventually, I was more-or-less forced to leave because mom wanted to order food online and didn’t know how (or didn’t want to) and I had to walk her through.

Three days before that day, we did have a fight. I was in hour 12 of my 14 hours work day that Saturday, she walked in and wanted me to check her shingles right that second. “Can this wait?” I said. I checked her shingles just a few hours before and applied a coat of Aspirin and rubbing alcohol on the rash.

That’s when she started shouting, stomping the floor, and scream like a child who got denied candy. She called me a horrible person for not paying enough attention to her needs. I thought, how much attention do you need? She then slammed her bedroom and continued to scream and shout.

The fight went on to the next day when I accidentally spilled a few drops of water on the kitchen counter and didn’t wipe it clean that very second. She called me dirty, messy, and a slob. “How can anyone live with you? You should be a pig in your next life.”

Those words made me angry. “If you can’t stand me, then leave, move to your own house.”

She pulled the money card, “Not until you give me X amount of dollar.”

It was basically the same fight yesterday. She complained about the dust bunnies in the house and screamed at me about never cleaning the floor. She blamed me for her shingles. “If you kept the house clean, I never would have shingles.”

In my defense, I tried cleaning the house but it was humiliating. While I cleaned, she would shadow me, pointing out every spot that hasn’t been cleaned, complaining of the shitty job I’ve done, and then go back and re-do everything.

She played the “God” card yesterday after telling me what a horrible person I am, someone without an ounce of kindness and sympathy. “God knows,” she pointed out, “he knows what a bad person you are for not giving attention to me and he will punish you for it. Just watch.”

Honestly, I felt like an armor has been cracked. In situations like this, I found myself muted, unable to speak. My chest felt constricted, like being pulled in a million different directions. I felt like I’m about to have an emotional meltdown.