Don't show your belly

Certain issues, for me, are a lot more triggering than I'd like to admit.  Neighbor children in my yard.  Music, played at night.  Either issue can provoke a ton of anxiety. 

Neighbor kids (and this is embarrasing for me to admit, because I know it makes me look like a "mean woman") - I was OK with them in my yard, until a legal person told me "If kids get hurt in your yard, and they had permission, you are liable for the injuries".  That led to a swift revocaction of all permissions. 

Frustratingly, one day when I had a day out, Ron told the kids next door to "go get their ball" which opened the door to years of home invasions, loud screaming groups of children running wild in my yard.  Most alarmingly, I caught the then-2-year-old on more than one occasion, in my yard, unsupervised.  He liked to run around in our driveway, too, when his Mom would take him out of the yard (separate driveways).  I would hear him banging on the garage door, opening the cat door, etc.  Then Mom would catch him, yell at him, and drag him back onto her property. 

They have 4 other kids, not one of them is as "naughty" as this little boy.  I was not surprised to see him sporting a cast recently. 

Regarding any implied permission, I wrote the father a letter, explaining I had large groups of children running around in my yard, unsupervised, during his party.  Including the 2 year old on 2 occasions, completely unsupervised, and he ran away when I went up to him so he knew it was wrong.  I explained, "Due to safety issues" I could no longer allow any children in my yard.  And I started locking the gate. 

The kids had been coming over "For the soccer ball" - a lot of blogs on this, including the fact that the ball only ever went over my fence, one of the shortest on their property lines.  When I went over to inspect my siding, pretty destroyed by the kids and his sprinkler system, I noticed 2 of his big windows were cracked.  He replaced them last winter. 

That explained the lack of soccer games.  I don't know if the boys (the oldest and his cousin, I think) even had permission to play soccer in the side yard.  I heard some pretty heated spanish at the end of their game, from an adult, and then the kids were dragged into the house. 

Anyway, they had played "Throw the ball on the roof and try to catch it when it rolls down" on my roof, and the ball had gone onto my back porch.  I told the boys "I'll get it" because I am not going down the road of the screaming children in my yard again. 

If I allowed children onto my property, I would only allow one child, an older one, quiet, open and close the gate quietly, lock the gate when he left.  No other children allowed; but in his culture, or at least the next door culture, when the ball goes over the fence every child on the property has to "come get it".  I don't think they can do what I'd want; if I gave any kind of conditional permission it would just lead to more drama. 

I also had issues with the children on the other side coming over without permission, looking in my windows, and even making comments "You have a lot of books" (they looked through venitian blinds and curtains to see that).  I often wonder if one of the older kids may have been involved in the burglary.

So, I've got all this running through my head: how many more ball retrievals will I have?  Will I have to speak to the father?  All this, and a lot of anxiety I would I could lose. 

Ron doesn't want to hear this.  He would just tell me it was illogical, use my logic, make judgemental statements, yell at God for a while, etc.  So, I don't tell him. 

Sometimes I think it's very sad that we aren't married in Heaven.  Other times, it makes perfect sense.   [sigh] 

Ron, I think, is just one of those people who thinks things just revolve around him - a lot of that goes to his upbringing.  Some of that stems from my desire to be attentive and a good caregiver.  I don't ask for much. 

I think Ron is pretty happy with the status quo.  I really try to be objective, at least lately.  I don't want to be shrill and histrionic. 

So, Ron doesn't like it when things don't go according to his plan.  Recently he has been on a kick about the cat door. 

He says the driveway concrete gets hot, and he doesn't want to hurt the cats' paws when they come through the door.  He worries the hot concrete will dissuade them from coming in as desired. 

I understand.  The concrete does get hot. 

When I got up this morning, I checked his blood sugar.  It was fine, in the 90's.  He went back to sleep. 

I did not.  I slept horribly all night and woke up with a bad headache.  I had to get up at 7 and take a dose of Excedrin.  It made my hands shake, but I could still do the blood sugars, thank you God. 

I did my God Time and watched some TV.  Ron woke up about 2 hours later and shared his great idea.  He would cut a new pet door.  In the side of the house.  On the "rowdy children" side.  In the side of the house. 

One, cutting a hole in the house like that is just an all around terrible idea.  I don't even need my handyman friends to tell me.  Second, putting a cat door, facing little michief, is just begging for trouble.  That kid is going to be all over the cat door, teaching his little brother and sister to mess with it, sticking his head and arms in, trying to crawl in, putting things in... like running hoses... I don't need a crystal ball to see a lot of trouble. 

We won't even mention the sprinklers on the side of the house.  How they hit the side of my house 4 feet up and then run down the siding?  That's what damaged my siding? 

I conveyed this to Ron.  He saw me as a fun-killer.  I told him, put it anywhere else on the house but that side.  Put a sliding glass door cat door on my backdoor.  We can put some carpeting down to cover the concrete out back. 

No, he was going to do it and do it his way.  Then he relented and said it wasn't going to happen for a while, anyway.  He was very upset I had rejected his idea, and it would take a while to forgive me. 

I was reading about borderline personality disorder one day, and a lot made sense, especially his reactions when he feels rejected.  He goes nuclear. 

I remember his utter shock when I told him I would leave him for verbal abuse.  It took him days to realize I was serious.  Then we had drama for a while, but I kept calling him on the verbal abuse and letting him know I was serious.  Then he accepted it... but a lot of grumbling for a while afterward.  He still thinks I "over-reacted". 

Anyways, I was just overwhelmed.  Sadly, I tend to have the attitude "Don't show your belly".  Showing weakness, like crying, doesn't generally end well.  I don't get sympathy. 

Anyway, Ron started playing police "Are you crying, did you forget your pill?  What is wrong with you (judgemental tone)".  I told him, I slept horribly.  I woke up with a headache.  Then I didn't even get any input on the cat door issues.  I was tired.  I was sad and sometimes I needed to cry. 

Ron and I have had ongoing debates about his depressing choices in music.  It's all "Go kill yourself" totally depressing blues and soul stuff.  Can you imagine battling a severe depression and being forced to listen to that crap?  Happens on a regular basis.  When I've had enough, I ask him to put on his headphones because "It's too depressing". 

Ron tried to take my statement "Sometimes I need to cry" and turn it around as validation of his music choices.  I said no, this wasn't about music.  I wasn't playing music and I didn't want to (side note, Ron hates my music and I don't force him to listen to it).   I was SAD. 

I cried for a minute or two, and then blew up, as much as I do these days.  Ron kept going on about what was *wrong* like my tears were offensive to him.  I told him "I'm sick of your negative attitude, I'm sick of you yelling at God!  You have no idea how good you have it!  I wish you could live in my head for a while, you'd be a lot more grateful!  I can't even tell you when I'm hurting because you make it all about you, and then yell at God again" (without even consoling me, I would have continued). 

Part of this, unspoken, I need to grieve over all his new health problems and the fact that he is, yet again, seriously ill. 

So, having just heard the reason for my tears, he starts ranting about God again.  [facepalm]  Called me a "Torch-lover".  Ron considers God "Torture Man", "Torch" for short.  So anyone who loves God is a "Torch Lover".  Going to Ron for comfort and reassurance is like sticking your hand in a running garbage disposal for a candy bar.  You'll just get chewed up, and feel a lot worse at the end.

So, we agreed to "be quiet".  Which meant Ron ranted for an additional 5 minutes while I told him "I thought we agreed to be quiet."  I ignored the ranting and he finally went away. 

Like I said, confiding in Ron seems to end badly, every time.  I feel like I can't show my belly or he'll rip it open.