We were burgled. Someone broke into our apartment, snuck around the house and took small items. Then stole the front door keys and let themselves out. They did have the courtesy to lock the front door behind them - you never know who's out there right? Insurance has paid out, I've got better stuff than before the robbery. My cards will... in time... be replaced with up-to-date photos. I sorted out my passport which I'd been meaning to do for ages. In all a win right?
So why is it that every little sound makes me jump out of my skin? I visited friends this weekend, and didn't feel safe in their homes either. It's that tightness in the chest, the clenching of the heart as it begins to rapidly beat, the sound of blood in the ears, the sweating, the panic, the fear. The burglars have hit seven apartments in as many weeks all in this area. The cops brush it off as a spree before Christmas. They say things like - be thankful they didn't slaughter you in your sleep. How comforting.
Any yet the only way I get to sleep is by quaffing sleeping pills. Then in the morning I am so drugged up I can barely keep my eyes open at work. Unless I'm active I just want to sleep. And yet at night, sleep is furthest from my mind. Should I change my whole world and become a night person? Sleeping during the day and only moving about in fear during the night? No of course not. That's silly.
So what can I do? Just get over it? I can't. My stupid mind is so active, so fast, so quick to point out that that small noise could be a metal skeleton key in the lock. It could be the tick of a burglars wrist watch... perhaps the one he stole from me. That sudden breeze, which in the heat is a comfort, now is the gale from without let in by the front door opening to let the murderer within...
A million noises set off my nerves and my mind in a million directions. A dear friend spent the first week staying in my flatmates room (he was away) just so I could sit in my room knowing there was someone else in the house. How silly. And yet how effective! I've just had a terrible evening. I was watching some show, and the door buzzed. Fear, panic, hide! But I answered it. It might be a friend coming over to stay.
It wasn't. It was a voice. Someone slurring and offering smokes. He claimed he had the wrong number. Did he? Or was he simply testing to see who was home? And if so, maybe he thought I wasn't home, and now has decided to seek revenge. Is tonight the night that I learn that the Jews were right? I thought my private hell would be a lesbian jelly pit where everyone spoke Afrikaans and smelled vaguely of blue-cheese. Now I know what it will be: A massive dark house filled with doors and open windows, and shadows trying to creep in. I shall live eternity wishing they'd just kill me and be done with it. Said shadows may be lesbians who only speak Afrikaans compounding the terror.
Tonight I am not going to take the drugs, but put a radio onto static hiss. I'm hoping the sound will block out all but the loudest of burglar like noise and allow me to get some sleep. Any ideas on how to make my imagination shut down for the night so that shadows stop turning into assassins? I could watch a whole season of Glee and see if that helps...
But what I want to know is: Where is this fear coming from? And why am I afraid? If someone breaks in, points a gun at me, am I so afraid of death that I am able to induce such panic and phobia? Seriously? What do I fear? Being raped? Being cut and sliced? I don't think so. It would hurt, but it would be over fairly quickly I imagine. And I'd get compassionate leave...
So what is it? Well perhaps that's what fear is: The unknown. I don't know what I'm afraid of, but I know it's out there... whatever it is. And when it gets here, my fear will be justified. How stupid. This emotion was evolved to prevent us from heading towards big scary animals? Or as a by-product of imagination... in which case my gift is my curse. Sigh. I must just get over it. Fucker. Get over it.
What do you do when afraid? Do you - like me - wander the house naked with a sword in one hand, cell phone in the other? Turning on all the lights and quadruple checking that all windows and doors are sealed? Only then to retire to your space and sit listening for the sounds of another body? Even as I type, my chest is tight. Loosen up. Breath. Relax. Take a deep breath and exhale. A little better perhaps.
Well until next time...
No comments:
Post a Comment