i need an endless vacation (vent + seeking advice)

tldr: my mom is pretty much the source of most of my obsessions and compulsions, and these past two weeks have been a test of my sanity. (hi, this is my first time posting! it’s a long one, so strap in. tips and encouragement are highly appreciated.) for clarity, my health concern ocd is not only for myself, but my parents. i’m a 21 year old online college student living with them (both 66), and my mom has kind of a triple-whammy of things wrong with her; she’s chronically ill with kidney disease, chronic utis, and neuropathy, is extremely mentally ill, and is verbally and mentally abusive. like, i’m pretty she’s got severe untreated borderline personality disorder, among other things. in other words, she is not well. now, i’m not necessarily afraid of non-contagious illnesses. her having chronic utis is, in itself, not a problem for me. the problem is, however, that the first noticeable symptoms of her many utis tend to be subdued behavior, a reduced appetite, and chills, which then progress, over the course of a day or so, into nausea and vomiting, because i am terrified of contagious illnesses—and this onset of symptoms sounds, on paper, similar to many of them. she doesn’t even experience urinary or back pain until days after these initial symptoms begin, which, as you can probably imagine, makes me want to rip my hair out! i am also terrified of environmental instability in an emotional sense. my checking ocd extends to checking that my parents aren’t arguing. complex and lifelong trauma makes me afraid of conflict, which is probably pretty relatable to a lot of you. anyway, with that in mind, let me begin my long and godawful tale by setting the stage: it’s the beginning of the month, and i’m trying to find ways to stop checking on my mom because it’s ruining my life, and my past several attempts have failed. the night i begin my next attempt, she says she feels nauseous. i accurately predict that she’s getting sick again, and tell my dad out of earshot of her. he, unfortunately, is in denial (it’s happened more times than any of us could count on five people’s hands over the course of six years; he hates it), and i feel immensely invalidated by his angry overreaction to me telling him my observation. in any case, as per usual when this happens, i hide in my room, keeping my ears attuned to the sounds of the house, absolutely terrified, dreading the moment i’ll hear her get sick, and, of course, it happens. after a day or so of her feeling pretty miserable, she finally, yet stubbornly, agrees to go to the emergency room, and, to my immense relief, they find that she has another uti. i’m still shaken, of course; i’ve spent the last several days afraid to walk through the hallway in case what she had wasn’t a uti, and i dread beginning the cycle anew when she finishes her antibiotics, but i’m still relieved for now. then, one of the bright spots of these past few weeks happens; for a week straight after that, i don’t check! i realize how awful the feeling of checking is and how dreadful the uncertainty it brings me feels, and i simply… don’t. i discover that it’s helpful not to, despite the terrible stress i feel (for reasons i’m about to elaborate on). so, the week passes slowly by. stress ramps up again as—oh yeah, i didn’t mention this—my dad’s rotator cuff repair surgery looms on calendar (it was yesterday as of the time of me posting this, and he’s recovering well), but i maintain my streak, even making up a reward system: if i can go thirty days without checking, i can buy myself a new 3ds xl. surely, at this point, the stress is behind me for now, right? well, that’s when my mom has a sudden, dramatic, and highly volatile borderline split over a message my sister (now estranged from her, for her benefit) sent her regarding boundaries she wants her to follow at her wedding in november. that’s a loaded statement, i know, sorry, but to make a long story short, she plans on inviting my dad’s children from a prior marriage that my mom has alienated, villainized, and is wholly delusional about, and she told my mom as much in her (very politely worded) message, and asked her to please not make a scene if she sees them. what a mistake. this triggered perhaps her worst mental break and borderline split in several years (though certainly not the first or most recent of them by even a couple months). over the course of two days, she threatens my dad with divorce and financial ruin (i’ll get back to that soon), and tries multiple times to physically attack him, break or toss their wedding rings and his necklace, and stops taking her medication and eating. all night, there’s awful screaming and sobbing and animalistic wailing. she literally loses her mind. i’m crying constantly, even though i’m in my room, and everything feels like it’s made of glass. even though she’s oscillating wildly between suicidal behavior and verbal threats and accusations, my dad and i can’t do much but hide or face it head-on, because the sheriff does jack around here—i know this because i’ve called them on her before—and even if the police were competent, she keeps saying that if he or i call them, she’ll lie to get out of custody or the mental hospital and make things hell for us, so the police and even the mental health crisis line are not much of an option (but if i’m wrong and they can, in fact, take her involuntarily at this level of violence, and she can’t actually outsmart mental health professionals, PLEASE correct me) unless things get genuinely dire and they have a reason to involuntarily put her on hold. at this point in the story, my dad’s surgery is in less than two days. the next day, she sleeps. then, our new kitten, who got neutered the week prior, begins having swelling and seepage around the surgical site, and the vet only opens on monday—the day of dad’s surgery. great, right? and when mom wakes up, she has another meltdown, fake dry heaves, and plays sick to get attention—which absolutely terrifies me. she’s also lying and threatening to leave, and, all in all, i feel like i can’t live or breathe. i frantically make plans with my aunts to help my dad and i out, as i still can’t drive (because the pandemic hit when i was 15-18, and because of my mom’s chokehold over my dad’s availability and my mental health). i call the local mental health crisis line late at night for advice on what to do about my mom, and they basically tell me to get her to the mental hospital (despite her having no such inclination) and to tell my dad that this is domestic abuse and that he can take action (again, i’ll get to that). anyway, the day before my dad’s surgery arrives, and suddenly, she wants to play nice…? she takes her medication and begins eating again. her conversations gradually lose their edge, but never fully. not even as of me writing this, but i suppose they never do. anyway, my dad mentions our plans with my aunts to her, citing her aforementioned (fake) sickness, and suddenly, she’s capable of driving, and, oh,!how dare my dad contact her sister, who—i forgot to mention this—she hates? ugh. so, we contact one of the few people she hasn’t alienated, which is our next door neighbor. a lifesaver, really; she offers to go with them to and from the hospital the next day, and even to go with me to bring our kitten to the vet, so that becomes the new plan. later in the day, as mom calms down, i tell dad what i was told by the hotline. this is abuse, this is divorce and restraining-order-worthy behavior, and another bright spot over these past two weeks happens: he listens in earnest for the first time in my life, and though such a major change scares me, we both know it’s for the absolute best. we have a talk about it, and though he waffles a bit for a day or so after she continues to calm down and begin love-bombing him, he actually maintains his position (even now): once he’s recovered, he will begin to gather evidence, legal counsel, and allies as well as witnesses in the family behind her back to eventually take action against her and get out of their marriage. it’s… scary. but i’m happy. i’d happily live with my dad! anyway, surgery day comes, and thankfully, mom’s agreeable enough to take him to and from the hospital alone, even staying in his recovery room all day in wait. my neighbor takes our kitten to the vet for me, bless her soul—he’s on antibiotics now and acting completely healthy, by the way! mom’s love-bombing my dad like crazy all day, of course, hence the temporary reconsideration i mentioned he experienced for about a day, but even after surgery, he talks to me and says that he sees her abuse for what it is for perhaps the first time, thanks me for being his support, and says that it will be hard—that he’ll have to act to avoid rousing suspicion—but that things have gone too far now to turn back, and he can’t cope with her being in his life anymore. (as an aside, i just want to mention that i’m proud of him!) even so, after they get home and he begins recovering, the past two weeks of constant stress hits me, and over the course of the evening, i begin constantly crying, my mind sounds like static and i can’t think, and i’m pacing tirelessly like a shark, because it feels like something fundamental has changed and that my security will never be truly guaranteed again because of my mom. i break my no checking streak, much to my shame, and enter their room in search of either comfort or just company, i’m not sure. even though at this time my dad is fine and my mom is jovial, i cry in terror that he or my mom will get sick from going out today, or that they’ll begin fighting again. i try to verbalize a simple “stress is getting to me,” but my mom gets extremely, debilitatingly hyper-verbal while on pain medication to manage her neuropathy, so i can only make frantic noises while i try to form words before she cuts me off to ramble nonsensically again. at this point, i feel utterly insane and completely unsafe. i stay in their room for a long time, against my better judgment, doubly shattering my no-checking streak. now onto today. last night was restless, and i woke up shaking. before i took a nap today, i was bordering on a panic attack. nothing major happens afterwards, thank christ, but my dad continues to recover, and he’s getting the hang of managing his post-surgical pain. i’m anxious because of it, because i’m also severely emetophobic, and i worry that he’ll be sick from the pain, so i check on him when i notice that he’s hurting. when my mom wakes up, she freaks me out by existing (as usual) because she’s loopy from having taken more pain medication in the late morning, and so she continues to ramble, oscillating between passive aggressive comments passed off as jokes and love-bombing my dad. then, this evening, she uses the bathroom and has to lay down afterwards (which is something unique to her, i guess, where she feels sick after she goes number two), and i begin obsessively asking if she’s okay again and crying some more (to which she insults me and tells me not to ask again, or else) before leaving and trying to distract myself, feeling terrible that i checked. i erase my streak progress off of my little thirty day whiteboard calendar, hoping to begin again tomorrow (which i still do, obsessions be damned) and i try to relax, but it simply isn’t happening; i worry that mom will get sick from going out yesterday, and that me talking to her has just put me at risk. i also worry that she’ll get sick again once she finishes her antibiotics on friday, because her uti symptoms haven’t gone completely away. it isn’t fun. i’m still really worried. then, just a little bit ago, i noticed that my dad was having some pretty intense pain again, so i offered to get him some herbal pain medicine (it’s legal here), and i went into my parents’ room to get it, and had to see her and speak to her a little bit. since leaving, i’ve been in my room, writing this out and planning out what i’ll do tomorrow, which is this: - greet my dad in the morning and see how he’s recovering (and what my mom’s mental and physical status is, to be honest) - make dinner in the slow cooker - bake brownies (for my dad) - attend my weekly telehealth therapy appointment, possibly reading this post out to her to make recapping my week easier - only leave my room when necessary to eat, use the bathroom, or assist my dad if he texts me and requests help with something - distract myself with music, youtube videos, my friends, and video games, no matter how obsessed and anxious i feel with the intense compulsion to check and i hope, or—no—i WILL do it! …and that brings us to now! i don’t really know what the goal of this post is, but for anyone who read this long, winding vent, thank you. also, for anyone wondering why i don’t just leave, that’s why i’m a student—i’m getting a degree in business administration to have easy access to employment so i can work from home (i can’t drive, as i said) and save money to rent an apartment in a walkable area (or just uber around) until i can either get myself into driver’s ed, or my dad can help me out once he and my mom split in a while. by the way, i graduate this fall! anyway, that’s been my past two weeks. if anyone has any advice to help me cope, or tips to help me avoid checking, or encouragement, or just, like, SOMETHING to help me make sense of the times i’ve been living in and get back on track to recovery, i’d appreciate it ENDLESSLY. thank you so much!