After coming home on April 4th from spending 3.5 weeks helping my stepmom with my father’s end of life care, my house was burglarized on the 7th. They got in through one of the windows of the garage and then into the house. Thankfully, they didn’t hurt my dogs from what I can see. They did, however, feed them raw bacon to keep them distracted. They took some electronics, costume jewelry, and Yankees memorabilia. All replaceable.
I would be lying if I said I was okay. I put on this public perception that I’m okay and I’m pushing through and I’m fighting it. That’s my public persona. In private, I’m a mess. I am afraid of every little sound. I’m sleeping with lights on and a bat next to my bed. I’m obsessively checking the locks on the doors and windows.
This quote is something I keep telling myself. I am unstoppable. I got this. I can do this. But in all honesty, I’m afraid to be here alone anymore. I am on edge and jump at every little sound. I need to get back into both jobs this week and I’m not looking forward to it. It worries me. I’m anxious. I’m not sleeping well. I’m not eating well.
I’ve rearranged the house where they ransacked it. Just by looking at it, you wouldn’t be able to tell that anyone was in here and that anything is missing. I’m looking forward to getting a new laptop (about another week) so I can do my regular and main stress relief – play World of Warcraft. No one understands the release it gives me (well, maybe another gamer would) and how relaxing it really is for me.
Until next time….I will keep moving forward and I will keep breathing and I think it’s stupid that we have to “remember to breathe” when going through anxiety attacks.