My Etsy shop is in the works, but delayed. All the good things I've done to stay on track notwithstanding, sometimes someone puts a wrench in the works, and tosses your world upside down.
Several Saturdays ago, I was exactly on schedule for my shop, with a planned opening on April 22. The weekend up until then had been sunny and carefree. Ada and I made beaded necklaces while Esme napped, and before we had dinner that night, I surprised them with a box of percussion instruments I've been collecting. We danced and sang and ignored the carpet that needed vacuuming, and it felt wonderful.
A few hours later, while I was watching tv, someone attempted to kick in our back door. Which is in the television room. Where I was sitting not 8 feet away.
Since then, I've been plagued. The incident was not isolated to my home; there were several attempts at houses next door and across the street. Our house is a fairly "hardened" target, and, as I keep reminding myself, this creep did not have any success here. The cops were here in 3 minutes, and stayed guard around the neighborhood.
However, I have been siderailed. My plans to do my shop and work on the writing projects I have been on the backburner for a few weeks now. In the meantime, all of my frenetic energies have gone into maintaining a normal family life with dinners, baths, playtimes, and homework.
Anything left over has gone into fortifying our security here. We are a good team, my husband and I, and I feel more successful with each effort, both the routine-keeping and the security-planning. Our neighbors are amazing, each working through this themselves, and reaching out to the other to assist and reassure. The police are sensitive and responsive, and all of this combines to give me renewed optimism.
The incident was one moment. I didn't even see it happen, rather, I heard it. A single, sickening thud that could only be a man's foot on my door. But it is a moment that lasts and lasts, and follows me with what-if's.
The few nights of sleeplessness have passed, but my sleep is now rich with dreams that are teaching more about myself and how I'm dealing with my own feelings of vulnerability and fear. I'm finding little insights hitting me throughout the day as I'm discovering the many layers of emotion I'm carrying: I am stunned, outraged, mournful, angry, agitated, and determined. I've surprised myself to find that of all of these, I am mostly determined and angry. I am, day by day, forcing myself to return to my plans, to reclaim the thing that thug did almost get away with: my confidence.
The past week brought me back to painting and making earrings, and this next week promises more painting and some fun sewing projects, and a writing workshop with a friend. And I am loving all of it.
In the middle of it all, I am pondering my reactions, especially the anger part. I have always imagined that come across as a peaceful person, enthusiastic but generally harmless, mild as milk. Perhaps there is more to me than I once guessed. I have been gravitating toward this owl painting lately--there is a little more work to do on her, but she is vivid for me already, and she, too, seems to be more complicated than I had originally assumed.
The Etsy shop will be stocked soon, my writing will become a priority again within the week. My caged-tiger self will someday stop seeing danger in every shadow, I am certain. One moment won't control my perceptions of the world, but it might have awakened me to how I see myself. I refuse to lose anything from this incident, but instead I am going to gain something from it...that's the biggest surprise of all.
