Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I live with my Moms. I've been here a year and half since I lost my job, my house, and my marriage. I look for a job and I stay, because if I wasn't here I'd be homeless. My life is really a wasteland and my Mom is the one bright spot. Plus while I'm here and I have to see her and talk to her and look at her every day, I'm reminded that I can't kill myself yet. Can't do that to her. If I wasn't around her all the time I might forget long enough to do something she'd never get over.

    Lately it's been worse. My step-mother seems to have lost her mind. She retired this past January and told my mother, after 17 years together, that she wants a divorce. The house is up for sale, and I hope it doesn't take long.

    Since then she's been a bully. She yells about everything. I cook and say "Dinner's ready" and she yells that someone's telling her when to eat. If I don't tell her, she yells about that. She screamed at me the other day because I put her beach towel away in the linen closet. I guess it goes somewhere else.

    Tonight she spent most of the night badgering and screaming at my Mom about the bedrooms. The house has three bedrooms; I stay in one, my Mom has been staying in the second room since before I moved in here because they both snore and have post-menopausal hot flashes and night sweats, and my step-mother stays in the master bedroom. Apparently a few days ago my step mother decided that my mom's room is actually her room and she wants her room back. She's pretty big and taller than my mom. She just screams and looms and jabs her finger at you. She won't stop until she gets her way. If you try to walk away from her she'll block the doorway or follow you. So she just yelled and yelled and yelled until me and all the dogs were cowering together on my bed and my mom gave in.

    So now, at ten o'clock, my mom is packing her stuff up so she can move out of her bedroom when she gets home from work tomorrow.

    Linda never used to be like this. She rarely raised her voice. I used to think she was one of the kindest people I'd ever known. It looks like I was wrong.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.