This is not the blog post I had planned for today. I had planned to write about the Penn State child rape scandal and even have that post mostly written, but then some jerk broke into my car.
Dear Guy Who Broke Into My Car Last Night,
Imagine my surprise when I approached my car this morning (located in my locked garage) only to find the center console had been rummaged through and all of its contents strewn about the front seats of my car. Since I am a little obsessive about cleanliness, I knew I hadn't left this mess.
Unfortunately for you, you only found a few tampons, some lip gloss and hand cream, four CDs, my car registration and expired insurance card, and the car charger for my iPod along with the FM transmitter for my iPod, both of which you conveniently helped yourself to. Aside: Why the heck did you leave my phone charger? You also took my gym bag because I guess you have a thing for running around in women's bathing suits, sports bras, swim caps, sweats, my favorite fleece jacket, goggles, Crocs flip flops, and assorted toiletries.
So the joke's sort of on you because you didn't get any material items from me with any value. Sucker. Of course, I heard I wasn't your only victim and that you did get some items of value from the others. So your "shopping spree" wasn't a total waste.
But here's what else you took from me. You took my sense of security and personal safety. As I stood there alone in my garage this morning wondering what the heck I was supposed to do, I broke out into a sweat and started hyperventilating when I realized that your grubby selfish paws had been rummaging through my personal effects.
I saw my car registration and realized you know my name and where I live. Ironically, up until a few months ago, I didn't keep my car registration or insurance cards in my car because I didn't want to run the risk of my car getting stolen or broken into and the thief knowing my name and address. It was a personal safety precaution. And then I let someone convince me that I was being foolish. As a single woman, knowing you know my name and where to find me will probably keep me up tonight. Thank you.
Speaking of what keeps me up at night, last night I had an overwhelming sense that someone was breaking into my house and every noise I heard had me on edge most of the night. Finally, I got out of bed, checked the locks on the front door for at least the third time, and locked my bedroom door. Knowing someone would have to make some noise to get into my room sort of allowed me to sleep. But learning this morning that my intuition was right but the location was wrong, frightens me more than you know.
I don't care about the material things you took. I can replace those. I care about how I feel violated today and how the mere thought of the presence of you took me right back to a really horrible place from 20 years ago. Feeling safe in my own skin doesn't exactly come naturally to me and it took a long time to find that feeling after it disappeared the first time.
Once I got past the initial shock and decided the cops couldn't help me because you didn't do any damage to my car or steal anything of value, I cleaned up the mess you left because that's how I deal with chaos and there was nothing else to do. Now I can get into my car, pretend you weren't there, and feel like I have a little control over my life. Well, until I want to go to the gym and have to figure out where to buy a bathing suit in November. Then I'm going to be reminded how mad I am right now.
Of course, I have to say that while I'm furious with you, I'm equally furious with me. The truth is that I can't say with 100% certainty that I locked my car last night. I had moved the last piece of furniture into my house that my dad gave me and it's possible that as I was trying to control it, because it was so big and awkward, I forgot to lock my car. That said, you still didn't have permission to go into it and take what you wanted.