Everything's new...but not in Otter Bach's Musings

So with my new blog, comes many other new things.

After 29 1/2 years in a small town that I hated (I'm including the years spent in college because I still went home every summer), I got out. I got a new job with an AMAZING company where I actually have opportunities for growth as well as opportunities for traveling all over the world, four week sabbaticals every five years, amazing pay and benefits and a chance to be involved in my new community through that company. My current position is less than ideal, but I know that it is temporary, and I have already been told that my supervisors like what they see (I've only been out of training officially for 2 weeks).

Everything, however, is not new. Unfortunately, I seem to have traded one small town for another for the moment. And I'm still stuck living with my mother whose good days seem to get further apart all the time even without the stress of my brother weighing on her all the time, and whose bad days seem to be worse than ever. When she first started looking for apartments, she told the apartment manager here that I'd be here for a couple of months at the most and then I would be looking for my own place. I jokingly talked about her kicking me out. Later when I said something in front of my grandmother about mom kicking me out, my mom got very upset and stated that no, I'm on the lease as well and that I can't leave until September because she can't afford her rent without me.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love my mom. Really, I do. Those of you who have known me for a long time may have a hard time believing that, but you hear about the bad days and rarely about the good. But the fact is that I've already given up so much of my life for her and my brother. By the time September comes around, it will have been over 30 years. It's not that I don't WANT to help them. I do. The fact that she just expects me to do it without asking is what bothers me so much. Those few months before I moved down here that it was just me and the dogs were amazing. Sure I got a bit lonely once in awhile with no friends around, but I only had to worry about myself for a change and it was so nice. That's all I want. I'm nearly 30 years old. I just want to be out on my own.

The big fight lately has been about me needing a new car. Franz is not doing well and I was going to use my tax return as a down payment while Franz is still sort of working so I could use it as a trade-in. Instead of understanding that I should do this while my car is still functioning and having a little faith that maybe I do know what I'm doing, she freaked out saying that I'm being irresponsible with money. I should spend more money fixing the car I have now (which is kind of pointless anymore). She hates the fact that I make substantially more than she does. I recently saved her from losing her own car and am constantly paying her bills for her because she doesn't know how to budget her money. She keeps saying I can't afford a car payment but really, she can't afford for me to have a car payment. As if to prove that she's right, she decided that she's going to start charging me more for rent. She's also started blaming me for the fact that our house is in foreclosure (the house we moved from, not the apartment we're in) and the dogs have done a number on the carpet here (mostly Josie, she's getting older and was having some issues that seem to have worked out now that I've started buying her super expensive food) and apparently it's my fault that we won't be getting our security deposit back. I mean really, rent a carpet shampooer and it'd be fine.

So one of these days my car will die on the way to work and she's going to say, "You should have traded it in while you had the chance."

She's been off her antidepressants for months. She said she couldn't afford the doctor's visit. She has insurance again now so that isn't an issue anymore. I said something about a month ago that even when she was on them I didn't think they were helping much anymore. I said it more tactfully than that. I wanted her to know that I was genuinely worried. She didn't care. She thinks all of her problems can be solved by Prozac. The other night she was screaming at the dogs because they had to go outside (no wonder they pee in the apartment, she gets mad instead of letting them out). So they were cowering in the corner, and I came to their rescue again and let them out. I told her, "You have insurance. Go to the doctor before you fucking kill somebody." She told me to watch my mouth. But seriously. I think she's bipolar. I want to send her to the doctor wearing a sign around her neck that says, "My daughter thinks I'm bipolar, don't give me antidepressants. At the current rate things are going, she's going to kill me in my sleep one of these days (if I don't snap and kill her first). Ok, maybe they aren't that bad. But it sure seems like it some days.