Home Alone

Yes, this is my second official post of the day, but I don't think that the first one really counts. If it does count that is okay too.

I hate, absolutely hate, being home alone at night. James, my husband, works evenings and he usually isn't home until 11:30 PM or later. I am thankful that he isn't out all night (at least not most of the time) working, but sitting in this big house until almost midnight 6 out of every 9 nine days leaves much to desired. It's not a lack of things to keep me busy, creepy neighbors, or even fearing that Winder is a dangerous town...I don't know what it is really, but something makes the wheels turn in my brain when I am here all alone.

I have a couple of theories...

When I was in college, I lived alone for a year. Prior to that time, I was never a huge fan of being alone, but that is the decision I made and I figured it would be "fine." It was fine...until one night when I was working on a paper at 2 AM. I was sitting at my desk in my room and I saw a figure outside my window. I remember squatting down on the floor to look up through the blinds (without having to actually touch them) and I saw a man standing there, attempting to peek into my room. I cannot describe the way I felt in that moment. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I couldn't even move really. I looked back up and he was gone so I stood on my bed to look out of the other window in my room, which was much higher up, only to see the man trying to break into my back door. Again, terror is the only word to describe how I felt. I dropped to the bed and pulled the blankets over my head praying to God that he didn't get into my apartment. Even writing about it today makes my heart stop for a second or two. While I didn't really make a great decision in that moment...hello, calling the police would have been smart...God was there to protect me. The man left when he couldn't get in after a couple of tries and he never came back.

After that night, things have been very different. It happened over 6 years ago, and yet I start to think about it and all over again, I relive those terrifying moments. Certain times have been better than others of course. When James and I lived in an apartment complex in Duluth, I had a very difficult time. It was not the best place to live and James was the courtesy officer, so we knew more about what happened on a day to day basis than most. The final straw occurred when a man who lived in the complex was beaten and left for dead in the parking lot outside of his apartment. Apparently the suspects took his car...also hitting him repeatedly with a baseball bat before taking off with his vehicle. At that point, I told James and we HAD to move. I was scared all of the time. I would practically run from our apartment door to my car in the morning when I would leave for work. I refused to go in and out to run errands...I wouldn't even leave in the middle of the day to go to the grocery store unless James was with me. It was like I was a prisoner in that apartment and it was time to leave.

I thought when we moved from Duluth to Winder that my fears would go away, and they did, temporarily at least. The last day of school last year, I arrived home around 9 PM. At the time, I noticed a man walking across the side of my front lawn near the tree line. I didn't think much of it at the time because I figured it was our neighbor picking up after his kids. I checked the mail in the dark, came inside, and started unpacking my things from the day. I had only been in the house maybe 2 or 3 minutes when I heard the ATT ringtone very clearly. Keep in mind, I was home alone. James keeps his phone set on that ringtone, so when I heard it, my initial thought was to go to see if he left his phone at home that day. On my way to check, I realized that I had spoken with him several times since he left for work, so in fact, it could not have been his phone. In that moment, that same terrible fear found me once again. I grabbed the gun off of his nightstand, my purse from the kitchen, and ran out of the house. I jumped my car and left in a matter of seconds. Again, I didn't know how to feel. My heart raced as I drove out of the driveway...I had to think in order to breathe and I started crying. I really thought that someone was in our house. I called James who insisted that I call the police. I told him that I didn't want to do that...I felt there must be some logical explanation and I did not want to waste the officer's time. Sure enough, when James came home, he cleared our house which was in perfect order.

I felt like such an idiot...but did I really imagine hearing a ringtone? It was so crystal clear. I didn't even question what I heard; I just instantly assumed it was my husband's phone. I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind. A week later, our neighbor and friend from across the street told James and I that he saw a guy looking in our windows and he was concerned. They had been out of town for a week, so this was his first chance to share the information with us. He said he saw the guy when he was outside and he got a bad vibe from him. Our neighbor actually went inside to get his own gun and when he returned, he didn't see the guy at our house. He said about an hour later, he saw the guy again, coming from the back side of our house. While I was glad I wasn't "crazy" this news didn't settle any fear that I had.

Not once, but twice in my life I have been home alone while some perpetrator is lurking outside of my home. How is this possible? I mean, call it bad luck, but I just feel like my chances aren't looking so good here.

So that brings me to where I am. I cannot change James's schedule. It is what it is and I need to learn to deal with being along and not being afraid. Everyone tells me to pray and think positively and that's all fine and good, but in the moments when I am home and hear a "strange noise" I do not feel protected or comforted for that matter. And when James is home, I am at ease. Not that if something bad happened, he could do much to protect either of us (I mean I hope so, but we can't be positive). For whatever reason, his presence is calming. I feel like I can relax and breathe deeply when he's home. Maybe it is because if something happened, we would face it together?

Talking about all of this isn't easy and it doesn't really solve anything, but I am hoping that as time goes on, I can find peace and inner strength that will get me through all of this time alone. Pray more, think positively, watch happy shows on TV, and patiently wait for my hubby to arrive...