There is something unnerving about being in a house that has never felt like home – over the holiday season. The energy is all wrong. The neighbors on one side can see right into every window on that side and closing the curtains just to feel like I am not being watched… Is proving to be a trigger for all kinds of paranoia and past bull shit. Then I got burgled. .. And standing in my garden looking at my bent burglar bars and being aware that the ever leering neighbors were listening to every thing said to police and to whoever came to help – just made me want to smash windows and set it all on fire.
So now I sleep with my bedroom door locked – bat in hand, and all manner of sharp and shiny things all close by – and it makes me angry. So very angry.
It’s Christmas. It’s an opportunity for the degenerates to peer into windows and see who is home and who has gone away. It’s an opportunity to take advantage of the fact that I am alone and have no dogs as of recently. It’s an opportunity to remind me why I hate people.
And it’s forced me to review my own reaction in a way that I am not comfortable with. The fear part of my brain is broken. I am not scared of something happening and dealing with it in whatever way it goes down. I am just SERIOUSLY annoyed that I was not awake for it. I spend so much time preparing and plotting and making sure that I would at least put up a good fight – and what did I do? I took three sleeping tabs to slow my brain down – and then slept through an invasion of my space. Me, my barely clothed body and every weapon I have could be seen from where the burglar stood.
That is what eats me. Not my material belongings.
So nights are long, and days are spent catching up on sleep. I have given notice on this place and have lost any hope or affection for the suburb I live in. It’s turned into a den of dodgy. The petty kind and the top of the food chain dealer kind. Not interested in being smothered by this constant anxiety I have at what ‘could happen’.
So help me God. I am finding a home that I am safe in, that I like, and that I can call home, and mean it.
5 thoughts on “No Place Like Home”
I am sorry you’re going through that. It took me years to (kind of) get over having my house robbed. It’s a shitty place to be, scared in your own space. Some nights I still booby-trap my doors with boxes of legos just to feel safe. *hugs*
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Thank you. Yes… It sucks. Lego? Thats a good idea.
Yeah…nothing like a whole box of legos crashing to make a huge racket and quite the minefield to walk over…
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I hope you’ll find a suitable place soon.
Me toi. Thank you.