Today was like most any other day...a day without motivation until the last six or so hours of awake time. Except that I was home...in my house...where it happened.
I could have sworn that there was a literal person at my front door, knocking. As soon as I heard it, I freaked. I grabbed both my cell phone and the house phone and dashed around upstairs, looking out every window at least three times. I couldn't stop shaking. My breath came out in ragged spurts. After five minutes of frantic searching, I tiptoed cautiously down the stairs and checked each of those windows at least three times. Nothing...no car...no voices...no nothing on the front door. It was as if no one had been there...
As I finished my rounds in the house, I realized that no one had been there. I would have seen them. But by then, it was too late. I was scared. I huddled on the floor next to the couch and cried, partly because I overreacted to what was most likely a bunch of snow falling off our house, and also because I was still scared it was real. I wanted it all to be a nightmare, and I was going to wake up the next day to find all of my stuff for Uganda ready to pack...and the robbery hadn't happened and I was still sane.
But that's not the case. It all happened, and I can't reverse it.
I understand now part of why I love it at school so much: I'm away from this house. Nothing bad has happened at school to make me afraid...it was at this house! It's at this house where I hate to be alone, at this house where nearly every sound that I don't have an explanation for within two seconds scares me and sends me into flashback mode.
The other night, I had a dream. In my dream, a few friends and I were playing games in the house, really loud games. I went to go do the horses and noticed that the side garage door and been forced open. I ran back into the house. "Guys someone broke into the garage!" Then I woke up...scared. It was six in the morning. I laid there in my bed, breathing in and out...in and out...very shakily. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd had that dream because someone had indeed broken into our house. I laid in bed, listening for any sound that could be remotely related to an intruder.
This fear...is too much. What drives me insane about it is that I can't control it...and I am the kind of person who needs control of everything in my life. I get scared by so much now...it's stupid! I suppose some of it makes sense, considering the experiences I've had, but other times, it seems far too silly to even be considered as an option to fear.
When will it end? When? I want to be set free from the fear I have. One of my friends asked if I was okay after they found out about my little "scare". Currently, I'm mostly okay. But deep down? Far from it.