There’s nothing scarier than feeling violated. And unsafe.
My car was stolen Saturday night.
They found it. And I picked it up today.
And for some reason I thought it was going to make me feel better. That everything was going to be “normal” again.
It’s not though.
There’s this weird fear coursing in my body that wasn’t there before. I don’t know how to deal with it quite yet… but I will.
I haven’t felt this strange “on edgeness” with a mix of panic in years, decades almost. It’s very unsettling to someone like me who just moved from the midwest where, contrary to what most people say, stuff like this just doesn’t happen very often.
When I stopped for a few things from the store on my way home, two other people had their cars stolen within the last few weeks. They didn’t get their cars back.
I guess I should be glad I got mine back, of course… there’s that.
But I can’t shake this feeling… you know, the one where you have to constantly check on things because what little you still have may have been swiped while you weren’t looking.
Yes. I got my car back.
So… there’s that.