A little less than a year ago, I came home from a long day at work to discover that thieves had come into my house and stolen a bunch of things.
During the season when I ride a bicycle all the way to work from home, my car stays in the driveway as a scarecrow of sorts. People associate a car in the driveway with someone being home, and an empty driveway with an unoccupied house. During periods when I have been without a car, I have looked out to see people turn away as soon as they see no motor vehicle parked out front.
As the days get shorter and drivers become less patient with a bicyclist on the road, no matter how well illuminated, I shift to park-and-ride commutes from various starting points. These let me salvage some exercise and reduce the amount of internal combustion in my life, but they also leave my driveway clearly empty.
Right after the break-in, I exhibited paranoia, hyper-vigilance, and a distinct drop in compassion. I felt anxious and quite alone. My anxiety would spike as I entered my driveway after any absence. In addition to my computer, my checkbook, my wife's jewelry, and several other items, the thieves had stolen the joy of homecoming.
As the months passed, I got used to my new security routines -- surveillance cameras inside and out, deadbolts, new and unusual places to hide valuables while I'm away -- and began to feel more relaxed. When my wife returned from her job out of state to spend the summer, our comings and goings were random enough to make our home less attractive to larceny. The pair who had broken into my house had been arrested within a month or so, ending quite a spree in the surrounding towns, but they showed no remorse and no inclination to cooperate. Their operation was apparently related to drugs. If they're out, I doubt that they have straightened out much. And even without them, others are ready to fill the vacancy.
The daylight shortens. I prepare to take up the park and ride routes again. My anxiety is climbing as the conditions begin to replicate what attracted the criminals in the first place.
Recovery from any traumatic experience traditionally takes at least a full year. You have to live through the entire cycle and beyond it to fully experience the new normal. What happened to me was fairly minor. It has a larger effect because it's easy to imagine how it could have been worse. One incident provides no immunity against future incidents. Will my upgraded defenses be sufficient? Will they even be tested? Has the criminal element that preyed on this area disbanded, or have I simply missed hearing about their depredations?
A detached part of me observes these thoughts and emotions with the fascination of a researcher. Meanwhile, the rest of me is experiencing them to the fullest.
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