Doors left open, rattles at night, barking dogs and nightmares. All these things make me feel so scared, so alone. I'm still frightened that someone out there is watching me sleep and walking in discreet to grab my things and hurt me and my family.
It's been a year since I suffered from that very traumatic experience, one of the most horrible thing I've ever seen right before my eyes. A man with no face looked so dangerous and armed. I stared at him for seconds and witnessed his moves as he took a hold of my bags. I can still remember the exact details of it, from the time I saw him standing in front of me up to the moment we were shouting and screaming for someone to notice that we were in a menace. My body was shaking and I couldn't even manage to utter a word.
What happened was real, I wasn't dreaming. And for the second time I was reminded about the true meaning of MATERIAL THINGS. It restored all the lessons I learned when our house burnt down eight years ago. It's nothing compared to those who suffered from a loss of their loved ones, to those who were brutally murdered, sexually abused and hurt. And it's NOTHING compared to the victims of earthquake and tsunami in Japan which also happened the day before we were robbed.
Although I still have to deal with strange nights (believe me, until now I sleep beside my bag and keep my phones in unusual places, place bottles next to my door's room when I'm out of town), I'm slowly getting over it. S-l-o-w-l-y. I'm trying and it's hard. People may say I'm over-acting so I always make it a point to explain why I do such things. And I'm relieved whenever they understand the kind of situation I'm in.
A year ago, I'm fearful. My trust in the world vanished. A year later, I say I'm a little wiser, little braver. I still get chills at night but with my prayers, I know I'd get by.