Living with my (step)mother after my dad left.
This is the whole background: my dad immigrated from Central America to California. He had notoriety and was disliked within his family. He met a woman whose past was shady, since her parents were well off and had taken her daughter's custody. They married, had me, and lived happily for three years. I was the first of three kids they had together, and the only one that lived. They were in the process of obtaining my half-sister's custody when my mom died while in childbirth. My father left, taking me with him. I have never met my mother's family. I have also never met my father's family.
My father stayed at a relative's house with no job and money. He met my future (step)mother and her son in this time, in the middle of a separation from her soon to be ex-husband, ironically related to my dad. Being noble and able to help, she helped take care of me and bought him clothes to be able to interview and eventually work. My dad eventually convinced her to move out with him. They married three years later.
I could walk, talk, and was potty trained when I was 3. It went when my mother passed away. I was more frustrating being raised as a result. I eventually got back to normal by the time I was 5, with no memory of my mom's death. While I had found out when I was 10 on my own, I was not told until I was 16. By this time, my dad had already had an affair and things were never quite the same.
When I was in my early 20s, I began meeting men secretly, since both my parents would be very opposed to me being gay. I got into a relationship with an recovering drug addict. I trusted him with money and my financial matters. I helped him pay off numerous debts. In return, he gave me a shit ton of debt and gave out my checks, which were used to create fraudulent checks. I wasn't a saint either, if he is still around he would be quick to point out my flaws. Of course, I could not rely on my parents for support, so I tried dealing with it on my own. After a while the relationship became toxic and we had an intense falling out. He played on my emotions, and before I changed my number to keep him from contacting me, he threatened to out me.
A couple of weeks later I intercepted a letter he sent my parents. He had sent a second one, which my stepmother got. She was concerned more for herself than my wellbeing. The fallout was as damaging as he expected it. I was alone, and would handle it alone. She didn't show my father the letter, and I took it, intending to take him to court. I left home a few months later since things had gotten so bad. I just left my things there. I didn't speak to my family for almost a year. To this day I don't know if it was petty. We saw each other again the next Thanksgiving.
Mom and I made up shortly after, simply agreeing to disagree on the less pleasant points. We were okay for a while until my parents' rent check bounced unexpectedly. After setting up online banking we saw that my father had used the money gambling. We separated my parent's accounts, taking enough money to pay the bills and leaving him the rest. My father, as a manager, worked at the same place as my uncle, my stepmother's brother in law, so tensions were high. Defending my father, my mother distanced herself from her family.
The situation stayed about the same, stagnant but stable, but after a few years my dad left for a woman he was seeing for about as long as he was gambling. After a few months, their separation was clear. My dad and I have become estranged, so I have lost all blood relations. My parents are divorcing, my mom suing for alimony, with my support. I also help with her medical appointments and managing her finances. At the time she asked me, I was rooming with a friend. My mom asked me to move in with her.
I said no.
There are many reasons, selfish, petty, rational, and sound, as to why I chose not to. I did not forget how I was treated when I was outed, and that still fuels my need to not go back. After my first toxic relationship, I was saddled with a debt that took me ten years to pay off and was no closer at that point to paying off. My social and private life would be stunted, since I would be expected to respect her rules governing when I would come and go, and with whom, despite my age. This would not have been a temporary arrangement. My mother is in her 60s. I did not see her moving out. If I ever wanted to move, I would downgrade her living situation, and it would have been worse. My brother has a family and gets paid well. If she moved with him, she would be with her grandkids and son, and would be taken care of. She has an awesome extended family with resources and experience. In the end, it wasn't something I wanted, though it was expected of me.
Based on a conversation I had with a family member, she does not support my sexuality, but tolerates it as she does not want me to gravitate away and be without any family. Honestly I don't need half assed pity and duty. In my eyes, my mother's duty, not love, is what caused her to make choices that eventually stunted her growth as a person, for her husband who has now turned his back on her. But she is my mom, the woman who raised and supported me, so the decision has weighed on me. I can't help but feel like a selfish bastard, and I wish the parallels between my father and I were not so strong.