I want to touch on that period of life when the daughter not only grew up, but was already a mother and grandmother, i.e. The daughters are over 50 or so, and the mother is 80. All the advice that I have read on normalizing relations with the mother is based on the assumption that the mother at least hears you, understands you, and, ideally, lives separately. What to do? when your entire adult life has been lived separately, and suddenly you have to take in your 80-year-old mother and somehow build a relationship with her, almost anew? Many works have been written about separation - how to separate from parents for grown-up children, how to cope with this situation for both parties. But when the situation is the opposite - when you need to unite, learn to live together again - there is not a word anywhere, and you have to survive on your own. I want to share my experience. The feelings were off the charts. From love to hate. Anger at being forced to take this step, anger at myself for my inability to say no. I blamed myself for irritation and anger. Everything irritated me: the invasion of my personal space, the need to set aside time for communication, endless problems, the inability to explain basic things to a person, the constant presence of my mother nearby. It seemed to me that my freedom was taken away, the opportunity to live as I want , I often felt a lack of oxygen. My mother did not recognize me as an adult, she considered me small. Everything is mixed up for me - if you are a mother, then act like an adult. If you are already weak, give me responsibility for both me and yourself. But no: sometimes she acts like a parent, and sometimes she can’t do anything, doesn’t know, doesn’t remember, and becomes a downright helpless child. So I reached depression. I was faced with a choice - to be treated with pills or go to a psychotherapist. I decided for myself that the pills would help relieve the symptom, but the root of the problem would remain. We need to solve the problem itself, and I turned to a psychotherapist. I started by drawing boundaries with my mother. I clearly outlined the time that I could allocate for communication. I explained to her what kind of help I could accept from her, and what kind I no longer needed. I stopped blaming myself. If a person is offended by me, then that is his right. As I worked with the therapist, childhood grievances surfaced; it turns out that I had been carrying them within myself for decades. I learned to forgive old grievances, take the position of my mother, try to comprehend what she did from my current, adult position. I decided for myself that I have one life, and I am not in this world to give my life to another, to anyone, even to mother. It may sound selfish, but it really helps me survive. The most important thing is that I stopped trying my best to live up to my mother’s hopes, I admitted that I am not omnipotent, and I have limitations: temporary, physical, and material. I do what I can, but I can’t do everything. Yes, this happens, and it is not fatal. You can talk about this, negotiate, come to a compromise. I started talking with my mother about her, about her childhood, youth, about our parental family. It somehow became clear to me that she deserves at least compassion, warmth and empathy at her already advanced age. I learned to listen to her advice and moral teachings without anger, without bickering and arguing, but to do it my own way. I digested and appropriated the fact that mom can’t be changed, why convince her of something, prove that you’re right, make her nervous? This is a useless task, and most importantly, thankless, requiring a lot of strength, taking away health and normal sleep. Of course, sometimes there are breakdowns, but I managed to forgive a lot and accept my mother. I succeeded in the main thing: not to completely destroy our relationship, but in many ways to improve it.