I (17F) recently moved back to Italy to live with my dad. It’s a bit complicated, so I’ll explain: I lived in Portugal until I was 9, moved to Italy, then returned to Portugal at 13, and then back to Italy again at 16.

A lot of people criticized me, saying Portugal was my "true home" and that moving back to Italy would ruin my mental health — and honestly, they weren’t completely wrong. But my physical health was also at risk if I stayed.

When I was 12, while still living in Italy, my parents divorced. A year later, my mom and I moved into a small house in Portugal. At first, I didn’t love the idea of living in such a small place, but I thought with time, a little decorating, and a solid cleaning routine, we could make it cozy.

I was wrong.

We moved in around late 2021. Two years later, by 2023, the house had gotten extremely dirty. Money was tight — my mom worked a minimum wage job (around 700 euros/month) — but she also spent a significant portion of it on three packs of cigarettes per week.

At 15, I started realizing how bad the situation was. I talked to my mom about setting up a cleaning routine. She promised she would deep clean the house whenever she had a break (about 15-20 days off from work).

When her breaks came? She stayed in bed all day, sleeping.

When I confronted her, I even offered to help her, saying she didn't have to clean by herself. Unfortunately, she would yell at me, telling me to leave her alone and saying I didn’t understand what it’s like to be in her shoes.

By 2024, things had gotten much worse.

My room was cramped with useless furniture that made it impossible to organize my stuff. There were cracks in the walls, and mold had started growing — not just in my room, but also in the bathroom (black mold all over the ceiling) and even near her bedroom.

It got to the point where I dreaded coming home after school or nights out with friends.

My friends could go home and relax in clean beds or living rooms. I came home to mold and an uncomfortable chair, my only space being a school laptop.

I vented about all of this to my dad almost daily. Eventually, I talked to him about moving back to Italy.

My mom wasn’t thrilled when I brought it up — I tried to explain gently, but I definitely left subtle hints that her refusal to take care of the house was a big reason why I wanted to leave.

I did end up moving back to Italy before the end of the summer.

I had some regrets — I missed the social life I had built in Portugal — but at least I wasn’t sleeping surrounded by mold anymore.

Life in Italy isn’t perfect either (honestly, I ended up falling behind in school and took a break from it) — but that’s another story for another day.

Fast forward to this year:

I visited Portugal for Easter and my birthday. For my birthday, I asked my mom for a gift that didn’t require a lot of money — just for her to clean the house.

She said she couldn’t at first because she was still working. Fair enough.

But it’s now been 18 days.

My birthday was yesterday. The house is still a mess.

I try to be understanding — she recently lost a close friend and has been grieving. But part of me feels like she’s using her sadness as another excuse not to face the house’s condition, just like before.

I’m tired of feeling disappointed. I’m not even mad anymore; I’m just numb.

I’ve stopped talking to her about it because I don’t want to add to her pain, but I’m hurting too.

In therapy, I’ve admitted I regret some parts of moving to Italy — but also recognize that I wouldn’t have been happy staying in that house either. Portugal itself is amazing — I just wish I had my own place.

I really believe that both my parents (especially my mom) are responsible for how messy my life turned out.

(Extra note: My father left her with a car debt under her name here in Portugal. It could’ve been passed onto his name if they talked like adults, but my mother hates my fathers guts. The debt only got 'resolved' because I was the "messenger" between them.)

So, AITA or am I just being paranoid?