“Get out of my face, M! Take your hands off me—stop playing with me! I didn’t do anything. She laid her hands on me. I’m so tired of you acting like you’re the boss of everyone. I’ve had it with all this yelling and drama. I wish things were different between me and Amy. I don’t like the fighting. We never resolve anything—we just ignore it and move on.
Why are you looking at me like that, D? This is exactly what I’m talking about—you’re always yelling at me for no reason.
Michael and I have been talking… the duplex next door is available. We think it might be better if we take some space.
But it feels like Amy and Michael went behind my back. It hurts. I should be part of these decisions. I’ll move out when I’m ready—not when they decide it’s time. It honestly feels like they’re trying to kick me out.
We’re all stressed from the diet, and the other day everything just exploded. But all I want now is to be independent—have my own space. That way, when I’m mad, I can cool off on my own. This house feels like everything is on top of each other.
Don’t blame that on me! Did I ever say it was your fault? No—but the way you act, it’s like you’re always hearing things that aren’t there.
You say you care, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. I get that you want alone time, but I’m not ready to live by myself. I can’t cook, I can’t shop for food. I rely on you guys. I’m not trying to sound selfish—but what am I supposed to do?
And you being mean all the time doesn’t help. You act like you’re easy to live with. I don’t yell at you 24/7! But every time I turn around it’s “Amy this, Amy that.” I might as well change my name!
How do you think that makes me feel? Like you don’t want me here. If that’s how you felt, you shouldn’t have taken on the responsibility of helping me in the first place.
We’re not trying to push you out—we’re trying to help you stand on your own two feet. You are ready.
I’m not. Maybe next week, maybe 10 weeks from now. But I’ll decide—not you.
Is it because of the baby? No, she can visit anytime. Sure, she gets on my nerves—but I’ve always taken care of Tammy. I think she’s just scared of being alone.
Tammy, everyone’s here today because right now, no one is trained or able to give you 24-hour care. The only realistic option is to find a facility nearby.
I’m not going to another facility!
Tammy, you don’t have much of a choice. In order to come home, you need two trained caregivers. That takes seven days.
I know that already! But I don’t need to be here!
Why are you being so hateful to the people who care about you most?
You’re not listening! You come here and act like it’s so easy. It’s not! You need two caregivers. Come get me at the end of next week. I’ll figure it out.
If she signs herself out—where will she go? Who’s picking her up? How do you help someone who won’t help herself? She’d rather live on the street than stay in a facility with food, water, and care.
Do you want to sit on the sidewalk and get an infection? Because that’s what’s going to happen.
We’re not capable of giving you what you need, Tammy. We have to find middle ground.
I’m not going to a facility, and I’m not staying here. Period.
She hung up.
How are we supposed to talk to her? She doesn’t seem to care what anyone else is going through. I’m dealing with a divorce, working, raising a kid—and I’m still trying to help. It’s not like I’m lying on the couch eating chips all day.
None of us have the medical training or time to give her what she needs. If she comes home too soon and regresses, she could die. That’s a risk I’m not willing to take.
She’s safe where she is. If she comes back here, she’ll just end up back in the same place.
