This past weekend I experienced a home invasion. Someone shattered my sliding glass door late one night while I was home, in my bed. I'll save the details, but the cops came and found me locked inside the bathroom with my baseball bat rand on the phone with the 911 dispatcher.
I have never been so scared in my entire life for my life.
I am currently writing from a coworkers apartment, whom has so graciously offered her place so that I can stay until I move into a new apartment at the end of the week. While she has been more than accommodating and I am so grateful to everyone who has offered me support, a place to stay, and their sympathies, I still can't find myself able to sleep until the later hours of the morning, when the sun is about to rise. Not out of fear but I've just been rattled to my very core and the dark and the night and being alone with just my thoughts are the worst times for me.
While it is not something I automatically offer to anyone and everyone, most people who need to know, do know about the incident. And I didn't want to make it public but some comments have been made and over heard that have upset me a great deal.
Nothing was stolen, they/she/he ran off once I started screaming and turning lights on. I was not physically harmed other than a bruise on my hip from slipping on the bathroom tile trying to get into the only locked area in that part of the apartment. I am very lucky, and I am very aware that it could have been a lot worse. I feel violated and so incredibly helpless. Replaying the incident over and over in my head, I think of all the things I could have done differently but I was in survivor mode and what happened, happened, and it worked out. The next morning was worse. I thought I could handle it. I couldn't. I can't. They may not have stolen any property but they did steal my peace of mind. I have to move.
And herein lies my major issue with people who meddle and offer their two cents when it is not warranted. Whether you agree with this or not, that is not your decision to make. Yes, moving is a hassle. Yes, it was almost 100% certain that it was an isolated incident and even more likely it won't happen again at that exact place. Yes, it is expensive to find a new place to live and time consuming and yes, it would be easier to stay. And yes, in hindsight it was a bad decision to move to a first floor apartment, live alone, not have a back porch light, etc. etc.
But shame on all of you who have had these thoughts cross your mind. That is blaming the victim in every shape, way and form. No one prepares for things like this. And if they say they do, the plan is't fool proof. No one can possibly comprehend what I am feeling or coping with and I don't need anyone to. I am not asking for pity.
Do not think that I am stronger than that one bad thing or that I am a lesser victim since nothing was taken nor was I harmed. Do not think that this would have never happened had I just had a roommate. Do not tell me that by moving, I let the intruder win, that I forfeit the problem and am running away. And do not tell me it is not that big of a deal.
It is a big fuqing deal. And damn straight I am running away. I'm running away to hopefully being able to feel comfortable living alone again. I am running away from bad memories and towards forgetting and completely forgoing the forgiving part. I did not ask for this. But I have to do whatever it takes to make it ok for Marissa, and not give a damn about what anyone thinks Marissa should do.
Until you have been brought to your knees, you cannot even fathom how you would react in a traumatic situation. That was my lowest moment. My home was invaded. My safe place had a cement block thrown through the glass door. My sanctuary and peace of mind, literally, shattered to pieces that night.
I am done defending myself and any and all of my actions and decisions.
I came back to the apartment to grab some more things today and found that the door was replaced but the cement block was still there. Just sitting on my back porch. Sitting there like it was laughing at me. I cried for the first time since the incident. The cops found me with dry eyes, and I never once shed a tear talking about it. But here I cried and cried and I grabbed that cement block and threw it over the back fence.
I am stronger than this. This will not define me. It was unfortunate, and I do not wish anything like that upon even my worst enemy. But I have to deal with it in my own way and no one, not even I, really knows what that means. I now understand why in moments of complete helplessness, people do irrational things or choose to do or not to do something. And it may seem simple to any outsider looking in. Maybe most others would have stayed. Maybe not. But I now understand what it means to find out who your true friends are. And I now finally understand that I need to be selfish sometimes and only care about whatever is best for me. It may have taken a cement block to crash through my life but I get it now. And to all of you who did think or say those things before...bye.
To be continued.
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