And You Wonder Why We Don't Respect You

People give me dirty looks when I say or when they see that I have less than no respect for my parents.

"GASP! HOW could you ADMIT something so HEINOUS?! You HAVE TO respect your parents! It's like a LAW....or something..."

Yeah, well I don't. I mean, I have a little for my dad, at least I can talk to him like he's an adult. However, my mother is like a 5 year old.

My Mother...I don't even know where to begin. You can't even talk to her normally and expect her to understand you. She will, LITERALLY, pick out two or three words that she THINKS she might have heard you say, and base the whole conversation on them. I'll give you an example. This actually happened, I'll caps the words I think she heard, considering the outcome of the soon to be argument.

"MOM, I almost DIDN'T GET MY WORK DONE. but i did and didn't get a DETENTION SLIP. aren't you HAPPY?"

I assume this is what she heard because her reaction went something like this:

"HAPPY?! How could you say that? You are in so much trouble! I told you day after day after day to do your homework, and you didn't. Now your getting another detention notice. Just wait till your father hears about this."

Ever since we moved into my Gramma's, her mothers house, She has done nothing but use her. Now, my Gramma is very passive. She's the matriarch of our family in the states and shes used to people doing as she asks. And we do, because she's done soo much for us over the years, she deserves it. She took us into her home when we were evicted and laid down some rules for my mother, and of course, like she owned the place, my mother ignored all of them. Not used to people ignoring her requests, my Gramma, sweet as she is, is a push-over. Example: Gramma said "No wine in my house", mother proceeds to not only buy wine, she does so 3+ times a week. Gramma said "One glass a day" mother had 4 or more in a evening.

My parents are alcoholics, so eventually Gramma gave up. She gave me the responsibility of rationing the wine. Mom was, at the time, okay with it. Little did she suspect, I, unlike her mother whom she walked all over to get what she wanted, was not a push-over. It went okay for a while. Two glasses a night. One night she got crazy, so Gramma told me from then on only one glass. And so it was, one glass a night. She was getting better, it was noticeable even to me. Soon, however, she began to ask for more "Just a little; Just another half glass, Just another glass and I'll go to bed." Eventually I set down rules for more wine, for her and for dad. The rule is "One glass per night. To get more, you must go without for a night. This is acceptable for up to three nights/glasses. To have more before going without, you must go without for one night after for every glass plus five nights punishment." And so it worked. Dad accepts the rule without question. Mostly sticking to one glass, once in a while he'd skip a night and have 2 the next. but not mom. She has her glass and asks for more, every night. I would tell her no and shed go on about running away or moving out and not taking me or going out and buying more wine and hiding it; mostly empty threats and hot air.

That brings us to tonight.

Tonight was like any other night. Gramma threw together some leftovers for dinner, Dad came and got his glass, Mom came and got her glass and went in the garage to smoke and play on her phone. All was normal. Then it happened. She got some kind of bug up her ass and doubled up on her anxiety meds and demanded that she have more wine. Cue typical threats and demands for more. I reminded her of the rules for having more; to get more, you must go without for a night. This is acceptable for up to three nights/glasses. To have more before going without, you must go without for one night after for every glass plus five nights punishment. This totaled her up to 6 nights. She refused the terms and demanded more. I repeated myself and still she refused. This went on for 2 and a half hours. Eventually, she went down to her room and got dressed. I stopped her at the door and asked her where she was going. She said " I've got my coat, my keys and some cigarettes and I'm goin for a walk." Already pretty much high off her mess, I took her keys and let her go, thinking she wouldn't go far. 2hours pass and she isn't home. Dad goes out to look for her and brings her home. Apparently, she had taken her wallet, because she stumbled in, holding onto Dad to stay up; He was holding a half empty bottle of brandy.

I don't know what I should do. Everyone has given up on her. I'm the only one still trying to keep her in line, still fighting for her, but she's fighting me all the way and I'm losing. By the time I'm done dealing with her, I'm to mentally exhausted to do anything. If I ever manage to get a job, Gawd forbid, the stress might ACTUALLY kill me. And on top of that, I constantly worry about my Gramma. She's no spring chicken and she's not used to the copious amount of stress.

I'm at the end of a greased rope and I've only got two fingers. I don't know what I should do.

I can't leave. Even if I could before, I can't leave now. The stress of dealing with my mother would kill my Gramma. I can hardly stand the stress of dealing with her, I don't think I could handle both her and a job right now, but I'm still looking anyway.

I don't know where to turn. I don't know what to do. I don't know. I just don't know anymore