Moving Out

My mom informed that after she gets her disability she will be moving out. I have mixed feelings. On one hand I feel like I have failed her. I have failed to provide a home that she wants to live in. I feel guilty that she moved into our house with a twenty six foot truck full of stuff and will move out with much less. We have made sure that she has the things she needs, and have even worked hard to provide for her before we provided for us, but I still feel guilty. I have been told that I don't need to.

The conversation was an interesting one. It was one of those conversations that you would rather be a fly on the wall (to know what happens) then actually be a part of. I don't know how it always works like this, but somehow it does. She can say something that makes you feel guilty while telling you it is all right. Or she can say something nice and something negative and hurting all in one sentence.

I knew there would be issues. I knew this would be hard, but I had no idea how hard. I didn't know that she would complain twice as much as the last time I lived with her. I didn't know that she would be depressed all the time. I didn't know that I would never be able to please her. She feels that I am too messy and she can't live like that. I am messy...comparatively. This is the woman who mopped the floor everyday when I was a kid. I choose to spend time on other endeavors. I choose to spend time with my son, to work, and to try and loose weight.

She doesn't know where she is going. Part of me feels relieved. Part of me excited. Then of course I feel guilty. I know that the guilty part is something that I have been taught to feel.

My mom lives in our second bedroom, which is almost as big as ours (ours is 12'6" square, hers is 12" square). Plus she has a walk in closet. She has the main bathroom and the linen closet. I think to myself...Marcus can move out of our closet and we then have a place to put our stuff! The towels I have no idea where to put can then be put in the linen closet! Some of the bathroom stuff can go in the regular bathroom (ours is too small to be called a bathroom, there isn't any place for anything in there). My crafting table can go in Marcus' room (what one year old needs a whole 12' square room to himself?) His closet can store a multitude of things. Then I feel bad. However, with Marcus in his own room we can live here awhile. It would be so nice not to have to move.

What more can be said?