Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Society likes you a lot better, medicated

If I ever left Ron, it wouldn't be for the drinking.  It wouldn't be for the verbal abuse (alone).  It wouldn't even be for the blackouts and threats of physical abuse.  It wouldn't be for "prior bad acts".  It wouldn't be due to his many disabilities.  It wouldn't be because someone talked me into it. 

If I ever left Ron, I'd leave him for his attitude.  Today he was just awful. 

Let's remember, Ron is not the only one with trials.  I have brain damage.  I have severe mental illness.  I don't really GET to decide how I'm going to feel.  I was massively depressed the week leading up to my wedding (some might say a harbinger of things to come). 

Anyway, I woke up exhausted (although the dog behaved and "let" me sleep), and depressed.  The kittens bounced into my bed, meowing and saying hello.  They are so loving.  I took my shower, with "help" (Gravy likes to sneak in the back of the shower).  I did nearly all of my God Time.  I ate some whipped cream cheese on a multi grain roll.  All this in spite of a hideous depression. 

All.  Day.  Long.  Ron was incredibly negative.  He kept cursing God, paratransit, and life in general.   My Dad used to have a saying, which I might start using on Ron:  "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." 

When I objected to this toxic sea, Ron began railing against me.  I was trying to control him.  He had a right to his feelings. 

It reminded me of when I tell Ron I am in pain, or depressed.  He always says "Is that all?"  It's not funny - it's a vicious attack, but he won't admit it.  Then, if he believes the complaint "deserves" it, he will shout at God and complain about his difficult life, etc. 

When he is drunk, he will often use the term "Broken POS".  I always want to tell him, Ron, no one anywhere near normal, or functional, would want you in her life.  No one takes his calls anymore.  No one. 

Here's a good example.  Ron had "planned" on an hour at Walmart, for "me" to shop.  I would have left him at the door anyway.  Ugh. 

Our ride was late and we had other pickups.  They had to readjust our pickup just to give me 45 minutes (they gave our pickup driver a lunch).  Ron was furious and ranting. 

Why dump on me?  I'm the one missing out on shopping time.  You say you're angry "on my behalf" but I'm not angry!  The world does not revolve around your desires, get over it!   I can shop in half an hour, so why are you upset? 

Instead, Ron ranted and raved all the way to Walmart, a good 20 minutes at least, with me, 2 other clients, and the driver.  It was awkward and embarrassing.  The other woman kept giving me sympathetic looks. 

I was happy to leave him by the door, but when I came back there was a homeless, manic, white guy with all his junk (large, old, luggage) in a shopping cart, gunning rapid-fire conversation at the hapless greeter.  I heard something about "Someone's paying the tax on it but we can't figure out who" and "The lawsuit".  Yeah, right.  She asked him if he was on medication and he got very upset. 

They always do, when they are bipolar and not medicated.  I think it's a combination of not wanting to admit mental illness, and not liking the side effects.  Well, guess what, society likes you a lot better medicated, and you don't have to beg by the side of the road, either. 

I couldn't wait to get Ron away from him.  The last thing I wanted was a confrontation between the two men.  Both were already pretty volatile. 

While I shopped, I got some diet decaf soda, some candy for the vet's office, and some glycerin to apply to the scratch on my face.  Biscuit kitten just came in to say hello.  He's a cutie.  They both are. 

Ron wanted cashews.  Later, he complained someone had opened the package.  He's said this a couple times over the years "My item was opened (the inner safety seal)".  I get stuff off the shelf all the time, and never find anything opened.  I don't know what to say.  I think he may start to open it, forget, and then come back. 

I don't know about you, but I would find it seriously annoying to unscrew and check every single item Ron wants.  I think I'll bring him with and "make" him check.  He'll get tired of it right quick.   I resent the implication that I "failed" shopping, and I won't receive that complaint.  

We went to work, that was a good ride.  We did inventory.  I need a lot of stuff.

Our ride from work was significantly late, but it was a really nice driver.   Ron had to ride in the back.  Down Greens Road.  He wasn't happy, especially when the client "forgot" to tell the driver where to turn and we went a mile out of the way. 

As we left the complex, I saw a drug deal at the corner.  It made me a little nostalgic for Bible Handouts.  Greens Road around Greenspoint is certainly a good spot for a Bible Handout. 

We finally got to the bank and did our business.  That ride was also very late, and Ron was in a bad mood when he found out he had to ride in the back, again.  He got confrontational with the driver.  I did my best to calm him down, then ignored him and went up front. 

He did his "Your rules are injuring me, you mean control freak" (said most of that, too)  "Go ahead and dominate the poor cripple, just because you can." 

The driver is really sweet.  But she can lose her job if she "lets" Ron out of the wheelchair.  Sometimes they are followed.  If she is caught breaking rules she can be fired on the spot.  I didn't fault her at all. 

In fact, she was incredibly professional.  I noticed she was playing Gospel.  Good, she was saved.  But I was also a little embarrassed because Ron's very vocal about God.  Yet he's acting like a buttwipe.  Not a good witness. 

She got in the drivers seat and I smiled at her, apologetically.  She smiled back and took us home.  Very professional, very nice.  She even sang a little with the music as Ron raved about it better be a straight trip. 


I don't know if it's his age, the drinking, or some kind of delayed head injury thing, but I am really disappointed in how he is treating service professionals, lately.  I always used to really admire his courtesy and consideration. 

Now I feel like, "Don't tell anyone about God if you're going to act this way".  He has no idea - he sounds like SUCH a hypocrite.  One minute he's yelling and demanding things "My way" the next he is warning them about the mark of the beast.  [head in hands]  Ugh. 

Anyway, I may tell him some of this: I really admire the way you are respectful to service people, etc.  Dale Carnagie always said "Give people a good reputation to live up to"  Maybe that would help. 

It can't go on like this.  He could lose his service. 

We got home, Ron immediately occupied the kitchen, getting alcohol.  I would like to tell him, please wait 10 minutes, but then that would go to a tirade in my direction about "trying to control and dominate" him.  It's really ironic, because HE is the one who does that. 

I need to take my medicine.  With food.  

I decided I would check out the backyard for a while and take out the trash.  #6 moved the trampoline from next to my bedroom, halfway down the fence.  I was curious to see if they had put anything by my bedroom, etc.  The dog yipped at Baby Girl but was otherwise quiet.  I stayed on my side of the fence and verified everything looked OK. 

I am worried they might bring back the soccer goal and have kids screaming and kicking balls into my bedroom wall at 8 PM all spring.   That's just not cool.  However, since I did the "mean neighbor" routine "No you can't bang on my door at 8 PM asking for your ball, or come in the yard - I will look every day and throw back any balls I find" they have moved the soccer goal, hopefully for good. 

I don't allow them in the yard because they run around and yell (while Ron is sleeping), leave the gate open, stand there by the gate and talk trash about us (I was sitting here in the computer room, 3 feet away, with the curtains closed), let toddlers run around in my yard unsupervised, and come over in huge packs of several children, running and screaming, late at night during their parties. 

I don't think anyone would consent to that.  Especially with liability issues.  "We had permission!" 

I think it's better to be the bitch neighbor with strong boundaries.  No, I don't want any of you in the yard.  Thank you. 

I couldn't believe he thought he could take our driveway last spring!  He was so mad I said no!   It's MY driveway! 

If anyone ever parked in the driveway, I would call someone to tow it.  Unless, of course, they had a fire or medical emergency and the paramedics needed parking. 

Anyway, by the time I finished with the yard (the soil looks good in my garden beds), and the trash (only needed to take out the regular trash, not the recycle), Ron had finally finished.  We were both tired and it had been a hard day.  I knew if I confronted him he would lash out and we'd fight. 

I do try to avoid confrontation, but I will stand up when necessary. 

Since I am a "Pleaser", people tend to assume they can do ANYTHING to me, and then find out they were wrong.  Boy, were they wrong. 

Ron, alcohol on board, was finally in a better mood.  He went off to the bedroom.  I ate (some sliced deli meat and cheese on one of the multigrain rolls), took my meds (I was having some hallucination issues, wavy lines over everything - not an eye problem but a brain one - don't ask how I know).   The wavy lines went away after the Haldol so clearly the right call. 

I took a nap.  Ron "let" me sleep for an hour and a half before he started yelling at the TV and making phone calls.  Agh. 

I heard some banging around #6 gate.  I got up and looked out the front window, and saw a latino guy bringing something out of the yard.  A running SUV "getaway" car idled at the foot of my driveway.  He got in the back, with his prize, and they left quickly. 

I found that very odd.  I put my shoes on to "check the mail".  #6 was home - he was at least.  I'm not going to worry about him being robbed. 

"Would you have stopped them?" Ron asked. 
"No, but I would have got their plates and called the police". 

The mail hadn't come.  Of course.  We had a 3 day weekend - that's 2 days of mail delivery. 

I can probably go check it now, though.  Here's to hoping I got something fun. 

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