Friday, March 6, 2009
We all have weird or quirky things that we do or things that we are afraid of- things that make us unique-make us who we are. I was thinking about some of mine today- and I have some strange ones! I thought it would be fun to try and figure out why I do the things that I do and why I have the fears and worries that I have. So I am starting a new feature on my blog called 'It All Adds Up To Me'. Every now and then, I will look at one of my many quirks- and will play psychologist and try to figure out why I do them or why I think that way. Plus, I will be killing two birds with one stone by recording some of the history in my life too. So here we go!
Why I Am Always Worried That a Stranger Is In My House
I was a carefree young girl, enjoying the summer before starting 3rd grade. Those sunny days were filled with riding bikes around the neighborhood with my girlfriends, putting on 'cooking shows' in my backyard, running through the sprinklers, and playing with my friend, Jackie, who had The. Most. Amazing. play room one could imagine. This room was like stepping into an F.A.O. Schwartz. She had all kinds of amazing toys that I could only dream of. The largest stuffed animals, the most beautiful dolls and doll houses, a kitchen play-set, electronic toys that were the latest and greatest, the list goes on and on. However, the toy that I ran to when the door to that magical room was opened was her battery powered Barbie Jeep. It was beautiful! Each time I climbed in, I immediately felt like a teenage girl cruising around town. The thing that amazed me was that it was always charged and ready to go.
Jackie was raised like she was an only child. She had two brothers who were 12 and 14 years older than her. Her parents were divorced and she was S-P-O-I-L-E-D. And I loved being her friend because of it. We got to do things and eat things and go places that I was not often allowed to do, eat or go to. I loved it!
On this particular day, Jackie's mom was at work and her Aunt Helga, who lived across the street, was watching her. I begged Jackie to see if her aunt would let us go across the street to her house to play. She was never excited to play at her house- something that I could not understand. "If I had all of those toys, I would NEVER want to play anywhere else!", I always thought to myself.
She finally agreed and we got the key to her house from her aunt. We ran across the street and to the door inside her carport. As soon as the door opened, I ran like a lightening bolt straight to the play room. Jackie decided to go to the kitchen to get a snack first.
I remember climbing into the jeep and getting ready to turn it on when I heard a conversation going on in the kitchen. I knew that no one was supposed to be home, so I decided to find out what was going on. As I walked down the hall I heard my friend say, "Robbie! That is not funny!" And then I heard a deep growling sound. As I turned the corner, Jackie screamed and yelled, "Get out of the house!". I looked in the kitchen as she was running past me and saw a tall dark figure wearing a ski mask looking right at me.
I ran out of the house as fast as my little legs could carry me, feeling like the intruder was close behind, ready to grab me at any second. We ran to her aunts house, and through our tears, told her what had happened.
Jackie had gone in the kitchen and when she saw the man, who had his back to her, she thought it was one of her older brothers. She asked him what he was doing home? The man then turned to her and she saw he was wearing a ski mask. That was when she said, "Robbie, (who is her older brother), that is not funny!" It was not until after the man growled at her that she realized it was not her brother.
The police showed up minutes after being called and asked each of us questions about what we had seen. They checked the house and found that the intruder had escaped out the back door and had jumped the fence that divided my yard from Jackie's. He had taken money and guns from her brother's rooms and the kitchen knives. I thought that was strange. Why had he wasted his time on knives when there were all those amazing toys in the playroom? I seriously thought that.
I remember going home after that and telling my mom all about our ordeal, my little body trembling and tears streaming down my face. I was just sure that the man was hiding somewhere in our yard or perhaps even in our home. My mom did her best to reassure me that he was long gone.
I could not sleep that night. I just knew that he was going to come back and break into my home. I thought that if he recognized me, he might try to 'get rid' of me because I might be able to identify him. All sorts of thoughts went through my mind.
It was weeks before I slept soundly again. I never forgot about that afternoon and from that day on and still to this day, I worry about finding an intruder in my home. I hate being the first one in the door when we have been gone- and going to down in the basement kinda freaks me out- don't tell my kids. And there you have it, that is one experience that makes me, me.
***Just know this, intruder man. My husband has a wicked pair of homemade nunchucks (made from a broom handle and a bike chain - with some intimidating chinese phrase engraved on the side (I think it says La Choy- right hunny?)) and he knows how to use them!