Dealing with Overbearing Mother

I can relate to a lot of this. Mind if I share some war stories? I'm in my late 50's, and about 15 years ago, I had to go no-contact with my mother. (Not necessarily recommending you do the same. I made that choice for my own sanity, but it's not the right way for everybody.)

If I hadn't moved all the way to the other side of the continent, my mother would still be coming into my house and rearranging things without even discussing it first. She would still be inspecting the clothes I have on before I go out in public. Rationale, since I'm tactile and audial rather than visual like she is, my standards for what things look like are not as high as hers. From this, she draws the conclusion that I "need help" getting the visual side of things up to her standards. She sees it as a "handicap" I have, that she has to "assist" me in dealing with.

Before I moved away, she would call me repeatedly. If I let it go to voicemail, rather than just leaving a message and moving on, she'd hang up and call again. And again. And again. And again. Doesn't matter if I'm asleep, on a date, in the shower, or what. She'd keep ringing until I pick up, and if I didn't pick up, she'd come over and start pounding on my front door because she's "worried" something might have happened to me.

You mention your mother being a caregiver, and it makes sense she's spilling that behavior into her relationship with you. Likewise once my mother found out I do have genuine disabilities, and I wasn't just being a "hypochondriac" as she thought when I was young, she switched gears completely. Instead of ignorning and belittling my needs, she went all the way to the other end of the spectrum and started smothering me. From no help to way too much help. Even people with disabilities, of any kind, should be allowed as much independence as they can manage. I was better off when she thought I was a hypochondriac.

Add to this that my mother's sister had an intellectual disability and was never able to progress beyond about third-grade level. She could never live on her own. She always had to be supervised. And then her brother came back from Vietnam with severe psychiatric issues that only worsened over time. My grandmother was always admired as a strong, amazing, heroic woman because she was caregiver to *two* adult children with disabilities, both of whom predeceased her.

So when my mother found out that her adult child also has disabilities, I suspect she too wanted to be admired as a heroic caregiver. Unfortunately, too much help is worse than none, because then no progress is made, and the condition doesn't improve. The cynical side of me thinks she didn't *want* me to get better, because then how can people admire her for having to take care of me?

I've gotten a lot better since moving away.