Have I talked about this before?  I am not sure.  Maybe?  If so, sorry about that.  But my mother has an issue with locked doors.  When we moved in, the bathrooms didn't lock and my son immediately took the one doorknob in the house with a lock on it and traded it with the bathroom's.  He likes his privacy.  As do I.  

But mother hates privacy.  She thinks she has the right to do whatever she likes whenever she likes, and fuck if you don't like it.  Granted, that bit has calmed down some since we moved in together, but still, I had to live my entire life with her thinking she had every right to my space.  Even when we lived in separate houses!  At my first apartment, she'd barge right in and walk around and tell me what to do with my own house and then scream and complain about how messy it was and how dishes needed to be done and blah blah blah.  I had a new baby back then, my first, and I wasn't in any position to be doing anything other than trying to figure out this little human and meeting his needs.  I have ADHD (though I'm not hyper, so I have ADD, but the term is ADHD no matter whether you have inattentive or hyperactive) and it was hard enough just trying to keep my mind on one thing: my son.  And I was a kid.  When I didn't do what she said, she'd get belligerent and start berating me, saying that "I guess you don't care if your house burns down and your child dies!" and shit like that (that one was because I had a very lightweight couch over our forced heating vent, even though there was a large gap between the couch and the floor).  

As a child, she kept a metal skewer above the bathroom door so she could pop the lock anytime she wanted.  I had a nightmare I was in the bathroom and a monster tried to shove the door open and I had to hold it shut.  The next day, I was peeing and my mother tried to open the door on me and I immediately jumped and shoved my body up against the door, thinking my dream was coming true.  And it kind of was, because most of the time, she was a monster.  It became a shoving match, as though she HAD to get into the bathroom, even though I was using it.  

As a teen I installed a lock on my door that you needed a key to open it with.  No more popping locks with a skewer!  Ha!  So she removed my doorknob completely.  And I subsequently moved my bedroom down the basement.  I then removed the door from our laundry room and placed it on my room and then bought another locking doorknob and installed it.  They left me alone after that.  

As an adult, I moved back home after I left my ex-husband (he wasn't my ex at the time though) and I had my old upstairs bedroom as my room.  At first, the kids had my childhood bedroom, which eventually became our "guest bedroom", but later, they moved into my room, because they were terrified sleeping alone in a room they weren't familiar with.  They were 3 and 6.  So, once, I locked the door (they reinstalled that old doorknob they stole from me after I moved my room) because of some reason, not sure why (I was either on the phone and didn't want to be disturbed or was getting dressed, or something) and my mother tried to open the door and couldn't.  She threw the biggest fit about "no locked doors in MY house!" and I said I was almost thirty, I could do what I want.  After that, I locked it quite frequently because I was too old to have her invade my privacy for any (and no) reason whatsoever.  

When we moved in, she had a fit about my son changing the doorknobs because "Oh god, why do you guys need to lock the bathroom doors?? (eyeroll)".  I said because unlike you, we all like privacy.  

So recently, I got a new doorknob for my bedroom.  As mine had no lock and it made your hands smell like metal every time you touched it.  Gross.  So I tried to install it quietly, but this house is older and the knobs were original so the holes didn't match up to the new knobs.  So I had to drill the fuck out of the hold to get it to fit and make a huge show about it.  I didn't even want her to know it was done, as she opens my door quite frequently without knocking (and at other times, opens it with LOUD knocking to make my dogs bark while I have a migraine, she's so sweet and considerate).  So now I have a lock on my door and I don't think she knows about it, but I am excited to have her try to open it sometime and have it just not turn and see how she reacts.  I would laugh really hard if she actually got angry.  Though I think we're at the point that she would be just like "Oh" and knock instead.  But you never know.  

Once, she asked me for a key to my old house (we used to live a block away from her in a big house at the top of our block).  I had to stifle my giggles.  I said "Sure!  I'll try to remember to make a copy".  But I never did and kept saying that every time she asked.  Eventually, she stopped asking.  I knew damn well what would happen if she had a key to my house.  And that was never going to happen.  And now look...she not only has a key to my house but lives in the bedroom next door LOL  Yay!  But I keep putting up my boundaries when she crosses them and I remind her that they are there.  And it's working, to a point.  It helps that she's feeble, because she knows she needs me and that I do most everything for her (though today she's cooking dinner...except not for me because I hate pork and I still have to cook for myself, the one time she decides to cook...though it's not like anyone wants her to, she can't smell or taste anything and always over salts the food or makes it taste off in some way, shape, or form) so she can't treat me outrightly like total crap, because if we move out for any reason, she'd be royally screwed with a mortgage she couldn't afford.  We'd never ever do that, but in her mind, she thinks that's an option, so she has to play nice as much as she can.  Which is a good thing.

My mom used to collect keys.  Which I don't get, because she hates locks.  Maybe by owning the keys she had control over the lock?  I have no idea.  At my first apartment, the one my mother used to barge into on a regular basis, had doors with skeleton keys and locks.  Nobody had a key though and our one door was permanently locked since my grandmother lived there.  Then, at a flea market, I found a whole set of skeleton keys and bought them.  And lo and behold, one of the keys fit our locks!  And then when I moved, many, many years later to the house a block away from her, I found another set of skeleton keys at a flea market and one of those keys fit our doors in that house.  I love locks.  I love keys.  And I love to have the ability to lock my doors.  There's something to be said about the security you get from locking a door to keep unwanted people out of your domain, whether it be your entire house, the bathroom, or your bedroom.  And growing up without an once of safety, locked doors were the one thing that could make me feel safe.  

Not my mother.  When I was growing up, she refused to even shut the back door and left it open so any vagrant could just come in and rape and kill us.  When I was really young, we only had one car for awhile and my mother used to drive my father to work at three in the morning, and I'd wake up and wander around looking for her, only to find the back door wide open.  I'd run to my room and hide in my closet until she got home, terrified of people abducting me or hurting me (which was a real thing that actually happened to people, something my mother refused to acknowledge).  Back then, she made me watch two movies with her regularly: Kramer vs. Kramer and Without a Trace.  So I was well-versed on divorce and child abduction.  And yet she still left that fucking back door wide open all day and all night.  I actually have no idea why we even had a back door.  Why not remove it?

And she used to berate for me shutting and locking it when I moved back in with her as an adult, too.  I used to also shut our picture window (we had the largest picture window in town) to the forest preserve across the street when we'd (my kids and I) slept in the living room (which we did every single day).  She used to get angry at me for doing that, too.  But anyone could be out there.  And I wasn't keen on having them watch me and my kids at night, thank you very much.  I had constant nightmares about this, from childhood to adulthood, all while living in that house.  All because my mother refused to not only not respect my privacy, but also refusing to keep our family safe from people outside who may have wanted to hurt us.  Boy, house burglars and rapists and serial killers sure missed out on an opportunity with my family back then.  They could have just walked into the back door and done whatever they liked.  Well, before my childhood dog ripped them a part.  But our second (and much bigger) dog that I had a teenager would have just licked them.  And we'd all have been dead meat.  I mean, my dad was like 5'6, 130lbs, what was he going to do?  And we weren't protected with any weapons at all.  

Now?  Our house has weapons stashed in every corner of the house.  I mean like maces and shit (our kids are into medieval weaponry).  Though we also have four big dogs and we all know how to handle guns (even though with SPD I hate shooting them...though my oldest also has SPD and he also used to hate the noise, too, and everything about shooting, but he said he just had to keep doing it, and eventually, it became easy and now he loves it...so I guess if I just pushed past my issues I could eventually enjoy it too, or least tolerate it better).  And then there's the fact we are five grown ass adults, mostly men (I know, that's sexist, but if we were five women?  I'd feel a little less safe).  So I feel pretty safe.  I am not stupid, bad things can still happen, which is why we are smart about stuff (well, we, minus my mother).  

My issues with safety now are more about financial reasons (after being faced with homelessness, you really change your priorities on what's important in life and how you can keep your family safe with shelter and food).  And that's weighing heavily on us at the moment due to pandemic layoffs and getting around 30% of our pay.  It used to be 80%, what happened?  Oh yeah, our government pissing away money.  So our goal right now is to make enough money to start saving again and have enough to live on without fearing all the time for our safety.  

I feel that people who don't make safety a priority in life are, well, just playing a game of chance with their lives.  If you aren't prepared for losing your pay, losing your car, losing your ability to purchase food, or for personal safety?  You're just hanging on by a thread, hoping it doesn't break, whether you know it or not.  Just hoping something bad doesn't happen isn't enough.  Yes, it makes you feel comfortable, but it doesn't make you wise.  I know, I used to be that person due to the way I was raised.  My kids changed my outlook on life.  As did our life experiences.  We know what's it's like to have that thread snap and have everything come crashing down.  And by luck, we had a teeny tiny little safety net precariously perched at the bottom.  Had I had siblings?  I guarantee you that net would have been removed.  Had one tiny thing been any different at all, same thing.  It was pure luck.  And my willingness to push past my horrible fears of contacting her again.  And even so, it was still luck.  And I never want to feel like that again, to have my family's safety be in the hands of a person who hates us (though she doesn't hate us anymore...well, as much LOL).  

Safety is very important to me.  It isn't to her.  But my life isn't about her.  It's about my family.  It's about me.  And her safety is also important to me, even though she doesn't give two squats about protecting herself (which is why she's broken two bones this year).  But that's what I am here for.  To protect the crazy lady even when she can't protect herself.  Even when she didn't protect me.  But luckily, I am not her.  Something I am grateful for every single day.