When I moved here, it was under horrific circumstances I had been raped by my x in our marital home and additionally I had been raped at school. And this house ended up being the house to which I flew (in some hiding I might add). And I settled in. It was my first home post separation that I had with my kids. And we made it our home. It was the VERY first home I ever felt safe in in my entire existence. Even in my childhood homes I did not feel safe. But here I did. It was me and my kids. And it was safe. Sure there were things wrong, holes in the foundation from grow ops, rat carcasses petrified to the walls, remains of someone living in my shed, psyc notes from someone with mental illness, but it was still MY home. And it was SAFE.
Then 2011 happened. accusations of fraud and threats of police reports, a robbery, my son's assault, a sting operation next door followed by a seizure of a stolen car, followed by a death, followed by someone calling the cops on me, followed by someone following my daughter home. And so, now, it's no longer safe here. My safe refuge is now a threat. I wake up every hour through the night hearing noises and i remain awake and hypervigilant. I am constantly looking outside to see what is going to get us. I tense at every car that drives by. Now this house is not safe and so it is time to move.
But I still have a month. I hope its a busy month and goes extremely quickly so that I can breathe and relax and sleep through the night again. Until then, I sleep as best I can, i relax as best i can and try not to be too panicky, I sleep with a bat beside me, and I pack so that we can move and then maybe just maybe
We can feel safe again.
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