I am in my early fifties. I am the only child of a foul mother (adoptive) who wanted a freshly-minted female baby to play dress-up with and be best friends with. Like a doll.
I was independent and I liked sport and maths, not shopping and fashion. I wasn’t what she had ordered. She didn’t let me forget it.
She had no friends and to be fair she worked hard in the home (huge old cottage with coal fires, very clean, meals cooked from scratch) but had no outside job. I felt stifled.
My childhood was marred by her tantrums and bile. My late adoptive father was a bit scared of her and took the line of least resistance. The sort of man who’d write pompous letters to the council about parking and public footpaths but wouldn’t address the issue of his wife’s volatility and spite. He was hectoring and opinionated but not where it mattered. I partially blame him.
She’d whack me and then say, “stop grizzling or I’ll give you something to grizzle about”. She’d say, “take my advice, don’t ever have children”.
I have wonderful adult children, good health and a kind partner. I enjoy my work and my social life with friends. I see the old woman rarely. She’s now in a bungalow. Everything is outsourced to carers and cleaners (who think she’s nice!) except finance/admin. She has no friends and no bio family living. She has made her bed, sadly. I will not miss her when she dies. Her Alzheimer’s is not the reason for her nastiness - she was always a nasty piece of work.
My advice to anyone with a despicable parent is to step away and take care of yourself. “Choose life” as a pp said. You only have one!