At First I Was Afraid, I Was Petrified

Now that Brian's back in town, I feel comfortable sharing with the internet that I was alone the last four nights.

I'm usually a very pragmatic person. I know the odds of anyone breaking into our house while I'm alone are small. We live in a relatively safe neighborhood, we have three dogs and I've had enough years of martial arts to know how to kick a man in his junk and make it count. Twice. And the funny thing is, I hardly ever fear a break-in when my family is here.

There's just something about being alone in an empty house. At night.

Oh, and watching back-to-back episodes of serial killer themed 48 Hours Mystery, including one on Son of Sam, probably wasn't helpful.

Ya think?

Neither was reading a friend's blog about her trip to New Orleans and the haunted places tour she went on.

I like to torture myself.

The first night, I stayed at a friend's house due to a broken A/C. The second night, I was back at home and that's when the genius in me decided to watch all these shows about serial killers. Suddenly, it felt like I'd hung neon signs advertising, "5'3 Woman Alone in House. With No Gun or Tasers. Y'all Criminals Come On In." Every window felt like there was someone lurking on the other side. Which, oddly, made me feel self conscious about how messy my house was and hoping they wouldn't notice. I have a fear of having people, even criminals, see my house in its normal state.

Good to know the OCD in me will never leave me nor forsake me.

I not only chain locked the front door, but I also set the house alarm when it was still daylight and I hardly ever do that. At bedtime, I locked our bedroom door and then, for good measure, barricaded it with a box of boys' clothes that are being prepared for attic storage. If someone were coming for me, they'd have to brave the vicious spit laden lickings jaws of the huge laborador retriever out back to get to my room.

I like to think I'm nowhere near a drama queen. Unless I'm alone in the house, then I don't care what I like to think I am.

I also took some comfort in knowing there are men across the street and next door who would come to my rescue if shrieking were in order. Because if something happened, there would definitely be shrieking.

How's that for a bunch of paranoia?

By night three, I was coming home from Bible study with a friend, Melissa. As she dropped me off, I shared my fears, admitting I was being ridiculously unnecessarily fearful. Still, she sweetly sat and listened to me share all the ways I fed that fear. The first thing she did well was to sit with me and listen. The second helpful thing she did was share Psalm 4:8, " I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety." And, if David could sleep when he knows his own son is out to kill him, then surely I could sleep knowing Son of Sam is in prison the odds are very little anything would happen.

But, what provided the most immediate relief was as we, sitting in a car at 10:15 at night, suddenly saw a band of three 11-year-old-ish boys come jogging out of the shadows and down the sidewalk. They were all without shirts and it was then I realized that if three young boys could run around half-clothed at night, I was probably going to be okay. It was just the comical relief I needed. Thank you, God.

The next thought I had of course, was wondering why in the world these boys were out training at 10:15! A man (their dad? coach? parole officer?) followed shortly behind them and I'm still wondering what in the world possesses a man to take his little boys out for a jog that late! It's summer, but still!