I had a very important event scheduled at work on Friday, February 13th. An event we have worked on for months. I was excited to see our hard work come to fruition. I went to the salon Thursday night and had my hair cut and colored. I bought new clothes. I was going to look good. I set my alarm clock for the unholy hour of 5:15 AM- two hours ealier than any other day of the year. I had even scheduled a massage for that evening because I knew I was going to up and on my feet all day. A treat for work well done.
I woke up and played "alarm clock tag" for about 15-20 minutes, then dragged my rear end into the shower. Got out, put on my robe, put cream on my face, then dried and styled my hair. As I sat on the toilet (on the lid -not 'using it') brushing my hair when I heard the front door open. My first thought was that my Dad had gotten 30 miles on his way to work, had forgotten something, and had to drive home again to get it. I knew this was going to make him seriously late for work and my Dad is a super punctual person. He was going to be way ticked off at the way his day had started. However, when my Dad comes in the front door you can hear and feel the vibrations from his heavy footfalls, more like stomping. Then when he "closes" the front door it is really more a huge slam. I heard the door open but no stomping. I heard the front door close but no slam.
I knew I was not alone in my house.
I froze. Fear and terror froze me. Then something zinged through my mind. An article in Newsweek magazine that I just read on Wednesday this week was entitled, "What It Takes To Survive." The main quote was, "The blunt reality of survival is this: too many people perish when they shouldn't. They morph into marble instead of taking decisive action. The key is to recover quickly from brain lock or analysis paralysis, shake off the shock and figure out what to do." So, often those who froze died and those who did something - anything- survived. I took a second and asked myself, "What could I do to survive this?"
I assessed the small bathroom that I was currently in. As slowly and quietly as I thought I could, I reached over and turned the lock on the bathroom door handle. I was even trying to breath as quietly as possible and listen to the house creak and groan with someone's footfalls.
I examined my situation again. What if they meant me harm? Not just a thief, but something worse? What if they knew I was home alone? Intended that I be here alone? This is every woman's most dreaded nightmare. There is an interesting caveate to the events here. On this day I was awake and alert at a time when I would normally be asleep and I sleep like the dead. I would have been completely vulnerable and unaware.
After Elizabeth Smart (the Utah girl taken from her parents home - from her own bed) I vowed no one would ever get me out of my house. In my new circumstance, I vowed no one would get me out of my bathroom. I quickly, but quietly, pushed all of the bath towels onto the floor against the bottom crack in the door both to prevent my motion or sound from being detected and as another obstacle if the door is forced.
Then I heard the first step creak. I slid off of the toilet to the floor. Another step and then another up the stairs that person came. I sat with my back to the door, bent my legs, and planted my feet on the cabinets to the sink in front of me. If they wanted me I was not going to I was not going to go without a fight. Don't get me wrong, I was beside myself terrorized. I heard the footsteps in the upstairs hallway. Fear was immense and sitting in my stomach. I listened so quietly. In what feels like three lifetimes the steps stopped at the bathroom door. The door knob started to turn. I tightened all my muscles. I braced myself. The door wasn't forced further and the steps went down the hall away from the door, but not down the stairs.
I didn't realize it yet, but tears streamed down my face. Silent crying. The worst kind. Then something unexpected happened. The upstairs heat turned on. It was a curse in disguise. Yes, heat in the winter is good, but our heater is so loud in the tiny bathroom that it sounds like an airplane is landing. It covered any other sounds. I didn't know what else was going on outside the bathroom.
I stayed firmly in place. I have no idea how long I stayed in that position in front of the door. It felt like years. I stayed in the bathroom a long time. Hours. I know that sounds silly, but I did not want to open that door for anything but a familiar voice. I felt it all the way to my bones that the locked door kept me safe. I didn't want to be the cliche idiot who opens the door and gets hurt because they thought the coast was clear. In those few hours I did learn some things about myself though. At several points in my experience I contemplated that this was possibly my last day. I didn't want it to be my last day.
I have several friends and family who are less interested in beliefs in God. So, I decided to share the remainder of my story on my blog that is more a spiritual blog rather than just a "journaling" blog. To read about the rest of my story please go to my other blog: http://sacredmatterstome.blogspot.com/
