Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Steal Me, Sweet Thief

It is such an odd state of mind that you're in after you've been robbed.  If you're someone who is a trusting soul who has had good neighbours and never been violated before, your sense of trust is shattered and you don't know what to think any more.  You experience a fear and an insecurity that you haven't known.  If you're someone like me who, despite generally being a "glass half full" personality, always has their guard up and expects desperate people to do desperate things (and many a person is desperate), then it's not so shocking.

Yet still, it does something.  I don't know what to do with myself.  I don't know what to expect.  I don't know what to do with the rage and don't anyone dare say prayer because prayer won't bring back my dad's bracelet and my studio's computer.  I definitely believe in the power of God and the generosity of people who are open to "hearing" God and acting on his promptings.  But from years of experience, I know that it's kind people, generous people, who help out in cases like this.  Regardless of religion or spiritual belief.  The easiest thing in the world is to say "I'm praying for you", and that's nice. Even though I doubt you are spending much time in prayer, it's a nice thought.  I don't want to go off on a tangent about the fact that our actions are the proof of our spirituality, not words or how many hours a week you go to church or how many groups you're in. Well, actually I do really want to go off on that one, but won't right now.

My mind is so weighted with thoughts right now.  I am extremely grateful that no one is hurt or ill.  That thankfulness won't change.  So I go from being level-headed about things, to completely paralyzed with fear and don't know what to do about anything.  I don't want to leave the house empty.  I don't want to ever wear the Fidelity jeans I won because it will always remind me of the violation they caused.  I don't want to be upstairs.  I don't want to be downstairs.  I don't want to stay home.  I don't want to go out.  I'm nauseous but I'm hungry.  I want to cook but can't get myself to make anything.  I want to call someone but am too tired to talk any more.  I want to play music for my little monkey (Roch Voisine's "Little Drummer Boy", hello, favorite) but can't because my computer's gone.  Every nap and bedtime, we sat on the couch, him with his favorite pillow and "Rum pum pum" playing, and he'd go asleep.  That is gone.  My studio is affected because now I can't record anyone's progress.  I can't show my students YouTube videos or listen to music and play their tracks for them.

I HATE WHOEVER DID THIS SO MUCH I WANT TO THROW UP ALL OVER THEIR FACE AND THEN THROW UP ALL OVER THEIR FACE AGAIN.  Then I want to blare Rod Stewart music into their eardrums for hours on end while force-feeding them hairy anchovies.

On the other hand, what the eff have you been through in your life to make you desperate enough to open my son's piggy bank and steal his change.

Good God.  What do you do with this.
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2 comments:

  1. Reading this post makes my heart ache so terribly for you. I could not even IMAGINE what this feels like, such a violation. I don't understand why someone would go and break into an innocent person's HOME and STEAL THEIR BELONGINGS. I literally cannot wrap my head around it. Maybe that's because I'm not a druggie and I don't steal or break into people's houses...but where is the logic in that person's mind?? They have GOT to be thinking at some point 'Wow I feel really bad for doing this'...because if not, then I ask 'WHAT THE EFF IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE'. Wow this really riles me up. I would be destroyed if someone did this to me. DESTROYED. I would find them somehow and throw shit at them. Literally. I would poo it out and throw it at them, so it's warm and smells bad and STICKS TO THEM. And then throw more poo and barf at them. F#$@KERS. God that feels good to say.

    LOVE YOU.

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