The Post in Which I Breakdown

I am putting off posting today's scheduled post until tomorrow. I need to get something off my chest. Writing has always been an outlet for me, one that I find therapeutic to a degree. I thought about not sharing this publicly, but I have decided to anyway.

Have you ever been scared for your life? I was yesterday. It was bad enough coming home last month and finding the front door of my home kicked open, my house invaded and my property stolen. Neither my husband nor I had been home, and the animals, who were, were unharmed. My sense of safety and security was shaken. It put me in a state of hyper-vigilance for a while, but I was finally beginning to feel somewhat normal again, at least as normal as one can after an experience like that. It's impossible to ever really feel completely safe again. But I was healing.

Yesterday I was home alone, watching 21 Jump Street via Netflix on my computer, when there was a knock at the door. I don't like to answer the door when I am not expecting someone, and so I ignored it. There were no cars outside to alert me to who it might be. The door bell rang. The knocking continued. I finally went to the door and called out, "Who is it?" The person on the other side of the door knocked and rang the door bell again. I demanded to know who it was. I was met with silence. It appeared the person had left. I moved to where I had a view of the window and saw a man approach the front door at a fair clip. Then I heard a sound no one ever wants to hear.

The man was trying to kick my door in. And it was a pretty powerful kick that cracked the door frame. When the knocking initially began, I had thought to pick up the phone and have it in hand. Call it instinct. And so when the man kicked at the door, I immediately yelled, "I'm calling 911!" He fled as I dialed the phone. I don't know if there was more than one person. I only saw the one.

All I can think about is had I opened the door when the knocking began, I might have been hurt and something might have happened to the baby. Obviously, the sound of my voice through the door wasn't enough to deter anyone from trying to enter my home. At least not until I threatened to call 911 (emergency). I have never been so scared in my life.

The 911 dispatcher kept me on the phone until I calmed down some and it appeared the bad man was not coming back. I heard the helicopter searching above. The police did finally arrive and took my statement. I provided a vague description of the man I saw through the window, wishing I'd had better insight to remember the little details. When my husband came home from work shortly after (I had texted him and told him what had happened), I couldn't stop crying.

Four weeks to the day when our house was burglarized someone again tried to break into my house. I feel as if I have "easy target" written on my forehead. To say I am angry and upset is an understatement. My husband and I are already feeling overwhelmed and then to have to go through this as well . . .

Right now I want nothing more than to get out of this house, to move far away. Unfortunately that isn't possible. Not yet anyway. At least it is on the horizon. It's some sort of hope to hold onto amidst all the fears swirling around in my head right now. It's better then wondering what type of world I'm bringing a child into. And when the next break in will be, and if next time someone will get hurt.

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© 2011, Wendy Runyon of Musings of a Bookish Kitty. All Rights Reserved.If you're reading this on a site other than Musings of a Bookish Kitty or Wendy's feed, be aware that this post has been stolen and is used without permission.