I'm trying to be strong.
We moved my MIL here after my FIL passed. He left her with an upside down mortgage (seven hours away) and about $15,000 (after we paid off the cc bills and funeral)
I had a rental, paid in full. She lives in it rent free now, and insists on upgrades almost daily. I've spent all my savings trying to keep her afloat. She's depressed, in a wheelchair, diabetic and just... Nasty. She's mean to everyone, even my sweet six year old son. I'm ready to just tell her to go. Leave. Take your complaints and nastiness somewhere else. I quit my job to help take care of her and it's never ever ever enough.
I keep my husband out of it. When she is nasty to him, he gets into a black mood, then I just have to deal with both of them. His sister is worthless... Lives across the country. MIL calls her to complain about me, then she calls me and makes me feel horrid for not doing more. Today she was all, "She is 80 and in a wheelchair! What do you expect her to do?" The topic? I didn't pick up MIL's dog poop in her back yard before the mowers came. How dare I not drop everything to go pick up dog shit RIGHT THAT SECOND.
I'm just ready to lose my mind. My mom tells me I should be grateful to be needed. That this is on me because God knows I can handle it. But really... I can't.
Tiny town, no local support groups (and who has time? I don't. Every minute is my son, my MIL, my husband, my mom, the dogs...) I'm typing this from the potty. It's the only place I have privacy and five minutes to myself.
My house is a wreck. I clean hers. My nails and hair look ragged. But I find time to take her to the salon. My dog needs a bath. I groomed both hers this week. And it is still not enough. I'm horrible because "Well, it's not like you're WORKING."
Ah... There is not enough wine.