Some context: I’m a 27-year-old woman. My mom is 47. My parents divorced when I was around 5 years old because my father abused my mother, which ended in a dramatic fight in which he pulled a gun on both of us. He was arrested. A judge granted a divorce. My mother and I moved in with my grandparents for a year while trying to get back on our feet. Mom was not a rational person in terms of parenting. Growing up, I had chores. Like….a LOT of chores. Anyway, it was after school one day, and I was supposed to do the dishes, sweep and mop in the kitchen, and clean all the windows in the house. By the time I was done, it was almost nine at night, my bedtime. So, I went to shower so I could get ready for bed, only for my mom to yell for me to come to the kitchen.

When I entered, she pointed at the floor and yelled at me. It’s been many years since then, so I obviously can’t remember word-for-word what she said, but it was like, “Does this look clean to you? You never do it right the first time!” I remember being equally annoyed as I was defeated because I was tired. Mom has NPD, BPD, and depression, all diagnosed professionally, so I was used to her behaving irrationally. As an 8-year-old does, I remember whining about wanting to go to bed for school. She didn’t like that, so she did the most logical thing. Naturally, while screaming at the top of her lungs at me, she took the big bottle of bubbles off the top of the fridge and dumped it out on the floor, then she took out a carton of eggs and smashed them all, topping off the tantrum with a half gallon of milk. I’m obviously sobbing at this point, but she ignores it and tells me I can’t go to bed until it’s all cleaned up, and that if I don’t do it right the first time, she’ll ruin the kitchen again and make me start over. 

That little flashback isn’t directly related to this post, but it provides insight into the type of person my mother is. 

When I was 19, I began dating my now-husband and eventually moved away from home. He’s not from the same town as me, but we met through mutual friends. He was concerned I wouldn’t want to move out of my hometown, but I was actually thrilled to be putting space between me and my little but demanding family. So, we moved to a town roughly an hour away. It’s close enough to be able to travel for holidays or birthdays easily, but far enough that an excuse isn’t needed to visit less often. 

Mom turns to Facebook when she doesn’t get the attention she wants in person. For the past 8 years, she’s posted blatantly suicidal and self-deprecating posts at least a hundred times. I wish I were exaggerating, but I’m not. Naturally, all her Facebook friends comment on her posts, asking if she’s okay, what happened, and if she needs someone to talk to, but does she respond? Nope. She reads the comments and leaves them hanging. Why? So they’re even more worried about her. So, last week, an old friend who still lives in my hometown texted me to say Mom’s at it again. Sure enough, when I log on (I don’t really use Facebook except to look at the occasional meme and keep in touch with the older relatives that don’t live nearby) I see another classic Mom post “Since I’m always the bad guy, I guess I’ll just end it all. No one cares about me anyway.” (or something similar). I tried calling her. She didn’t answer. She wasn’t responding to anyone else, either, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for the situation. 

I’ve struggled with this situation for years because of one reason more than others: If the time comes when she ever actually IS suicidal, no one is going to believe her, including me. It’s like the boy who cried wolf. I’m terrified that it will happen. She’s caused me so much mental and physical trauma, and my anxiety skyrockets at just the idea of visiting with her, but I still love her. She’s my mom. So, fed up, I decided to do something that, for some reason, never crossed my mind until then. I called the non-emergency number to the police department in my hometown. I explained what she’d posted and that she won’t answer anyone’s calls or texts. I asked if they could do a wellness check to ensure she didn’t do anything to herself. I requested they not tell her who called because she would get super angry at me and start a huge family fight. 99 percent of me was sure she hadn’t, and this was just another one of her ploys for attention, but that 1 percent of me was terrified I’d receive a call back saying they were too late to save her. ….Okay, maybe it’s more like 60/40, but still. About an hour later, the police station called back to say that she’d answered the door completely shocked and confused as to why they were there. They said she seemed embarrassed, but assured them she wouldn’t harm herself or anyone else. 

I saw her a few days ago, and she brought it up almost awkwardly. I couldn’t tell if she suspected it was me, but I just shook my head and said something like, “Well, it was probably one of your friends on Facebook worried because you weren’t responding. You should be happy that they care so much about you.” 

She said nothing else about the topic, and we moved past it. 

Then, last night, I received a call from my mother at like 2 in the morning. I woke up in a panic and answered, worried something terrible had happened to warrant a call so early in the morning, but no. She was drunk and wanted to scream at me about how she knew it was me who called the police, and that I hate her, and that I just wanted to humiliate her. I tried explaining myself calmly for a bit, but she kept cutting me off and yelling, so I, regretfully, lost my temper and yelled back, “If you aren’t able to see how toxic your behavior is, then I can’t risk having you in my life. When you want to talk like adults, you know where to find me.” And I hung up. So far, she’s posted five different hateful posts on Facebook about me, without outright saying my name, of course. 

So, I ask, was I an asshole to call the cops on her? 

Should I stand my ground and stay away until she cools down? We’ve fought many times in our lives, and I’ve never once received an apology. We just kind of slowly start talking again and ignore the fact that we’d been arguing. My therapist recommended that I either cut her out entirely (there are many more things that led her to give this advice) or at least go low-to-no contact. 

What would you do? What would you have done in my situation?