Home Fear

On a Sunday in February our house was broken into. It's not something that has ever happened here, or anywhere I've ever lived. I've lived alone, with roommates, with my parents and at no point in my life was I ever afraid of someone breaking in to take my things. Processing this experience has been a challenge. 

At first it was shock. How could this happen? What do we do now? How do you talk to the police while your dirty ransacked home is surrounding his feet and your belongings have vanished?

Then there was anger. Are you KIDDING me? Just... why and don't, and wtf? Jump in a lake, people. Just jump. in. a. lake.

Then the fear settled in. Honestly, fear has been moving in for a long term stay. We installed cameras, and when the thieves came back to finish what they'd started, we caught them on camera. Round 2 with the police, and I was trembling. Later that night, a larger group would come back, but were scared away. Why? Stop. If you want my things, just take them and let me sleep.

Shock, anger and fear lingered. Fear lingers still. Yet there is something more powerful and strengthening than the fear. People. Loving people. Sweet, kind and compassionate people came to help us feel safe until the police arrived, provided help in replacing what was stolen. Text messages, phone calls, presence came into the fear space and even though I feel a chill down my spine each time The Tree House creaks... I know that these people are here, winning back my belief in the goodness of humanity and the strength of love.

To all who have been with us through this, I love you. To those who stole... just ask. I'll give you whatever I have to help you get where you think you need to be. In the meantime, we will sleep and rest and reclaim our space. Love lives here.