sometimes my Mum goes mental on me. Everything thats wrong in her life gets dumped on me.
It sucks, but thats the way it goes, my bro notices it, even her mates on occasion has told her to get off my back.
I dont know why, maybe I'm just that kinda person.
She goes crazily irrational. She wants me next to her all the time, but yet was bitching today about me watching telly with her.
"You have your own room. Go and watch telly there."
And then it'll be back to
"I might as well go to bed, you're upstairs and I'm bored of being stuck down here alone."
Honestly how can you win against that kinda logic?
All it does is make me feel like the worst, most horrible ungrateful brat-daughter ever.
Today, nothing I did was right. Every comment I made was wrong.
How was I to know that in the 10 minutes between her leaving for work and me leaving, she wanted me to put a wash on, hoover, do the washing up and post a letter? I'm not a mind reader. If she wants me to do this, all she needs to do is ask. I dont have time in the morning for everything she asks, but I'd willingly do some of it, if it meant I can come home and not worry about what foul mood she's in cos I cant yet mind-read.
All I asked was if something had run out of date 6 days previous, if it was still edible, and I'm not being fussy about bread or frozen food or pasta or some such shit, but EGGS (not laid by my quail I hasten to add.)
"Stop being a goddamn baby and a fussy cow and just cook the damn things."
The she accused me of not taking any care of the birds outside, which is a loada balls as she well knows. I spend at least 15 quid a week on food, bedding and stuff to keep their little feathery brains active.
But asking her to pick up a 5kg sack of seed in her lunch break when she has a car and doesnt have to battle a 35 minute walk home with it is clearly a sign of me not caring.
I wanna do this scuba course, I explain how I need it for fish-type jobs. She agreed that its a good idea, even though it's 350 quid and although I made extra money (£900) this month, all I normally take home is 720 so it leaves a big dent in my finances.
Speculate to accumulate and all that bollocks right?
Anyway she decided I need to pay rent, fair enough. I lived rent free while working part time at the shop, and I feel bad about not paying my share.
"How about I give you a hundred quid a month?" This I felt is fair enough. I'll be left with 620 when I get my wage this month, and even with the 350 I need to pay for the scuba, I should just about be able to manage and have some money.
She agreed this sum with me, so its not like I made an unreasonable request or I'm being ungrateful.
Yesterday she hits me with the bombshell that she wants me to pay 150 a month, not an great deal extra, but it means I only have 400 to last me the month.
The Brat earns nearly 350 a month more than I do and pays 200 rent. How can that be my fault that I dont earn as much as him and suddenly I need to be grateful that she's not asked for the full 200?
And she's not finished there. I say I can write you a cheque. And suddenly thats about the worst thing I've ever suggested. Honestly she chucked some crazed mardy at me, accusing me of trying to get out of paying for it. That I shouldn't sign up for a pointless course thats expensive if I'm going to complain about giving her a little bit of money.
Again. SHE AGREED THAT DOING THE COURSE WAS A GOOD IDEA. SHE AGREED A SET SUM, IN A CHEQUE, ONCE A MONTH.
I refuse to walk the streets with all those notes in my wallet and again its with the: "And who's fault is it you refuse to do any more driving tests?"
Now she's gone to bed with the strop cos today was a bad day to suggest that she help me write a basic begging letter to an aquarium, hoping they employ me.
"BUT YOU'VE JUST GOT A JOB! WHY DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE IT?!"
I loathe the museum, actually not as much as I loathed the shop, but I hate having nothing to do all day. I hate the fact that because of the crazy power balance in that place. I'm not allowed to do any overtime in order to get more money. That I get dumped in all the shit gallerys, by the other staff, who cross me off of the cushy numbers and put me in the daft places.
I hate the fact that as soon as I cross the door my brains starts to rot. I spend the day in a daze, broken only by my breaks and hometime.
I want to work with animals. I've wanted this my whole life. I did my degree to try and help me do that. I dont want to spend the next 30 years telling people not to take photos, or pointing them to the loo.
But apparently I should be grateful that I'm employed and stay there for at least a year before trying to find a job with no experience or no training that I'm actually qualified to do.
"Your problem is: You're never satisified. Why move on now?"
And people laugh when I tell them Welshy is a secret, that despite him wanting to meet her. She'll loathe him. She'll never get it. She'll use that as something else for her to go irrational about.

Its not just over-reacting is it? I know she's been through a lot. We all have. But why is it noticably me who seems to get used as her emotional punching bag?
I need to get out. And soon before I get stuck in a rut at the museum and living at home putting up with her good moods and trying to smile and tolerate her increasingly common bad ones.