We learn a lot about ourselves in the face of adversity, or near death experiences. And this has been the week of near death experiences.
On Wednesday night about 3 a.m. my sister woke to someone pounding on her door. After ruling out a lost friend of a neighbor, she began to panic as the knocks became louder, a light was flashed into her apartment, and someone clarified her apartment number.
Her phone was in the other room, so she could not call the police until the men left. The men were the police, but that still does not make the story of a 3 a.m. visitor any less scary.
Because we have a healthy sister relationship, if she does something, I want to do it to. However, I did not want this to happen.
This past Saturday Chris had a puzzle competition. I was going to have the apartment to myself.
No problem. I Kissed him goodbye and spent the evening with friends.
It's not that I don't like being alone at night. It's my overactive imagination convinced there is an axe murderer waiting for me on the other side of the shower; and is now lurking behind every corner. I'm the one that forgets to lock my front door or I leave keys in the lock during the day. But when I know Chris is gone for whatever reason, all doors and windows are closed and locked.
My reasoning is Chris and I have a better chance of taking down the crazed serial killer together, than I do on my own.
I'm very safety conscience.
Upon returning my friends' house I threw a movie into my laptop and watched TV in bed. Knowing Meghan's story from a couple nights ago, I brought my phone into bed and placed it under my pillow; before rolling myself into a burrito under four blankets; to ward myself from the cold night air the fan was bringing into the bedroom.
I locked the front door, but kept the deadbolt unlocked so my lovely husband could come in.
At some point I fell asleep, thinking I should have my hockey stick or softball bat in arms reach in case something happened.
What could happen?
I live in one of the safest communities. Please note, I forgot that we also have a high rate of serial killers in Washington.
Something happened. I swear life likes to prove me wrong.
Around 3 that morning, a large person entered the apartment. I slept through it. When the person entered the bedroom, he made the mistake of bumping the bed. The involuntary movement of my foot caused me to wake up in a panic. On a scale of 1-10 I was at a 500.
You might be asking why I didn't hear the bedroom door open. The door was already open. I hate my door closed. Even in college I hated having the door closed. You would think after four years of my door constantly being closed I would be okay with it.
I'm not.
In fact, the reasoning behind the open door is simple. I can hear the perpetrator come into the apartment if the bedroom door is open.
It was a good theory. A horrible practice.
The person was fairly close to the bed. My ring is on my left hand and I can do some pretty serious damage with that sucker. I tried to free my arm from the blankets. I was also kicking wildly, trying to free my legs in order to kick the perpetrator.
I must have looked like a deranged person making a snow angel.
I let out loud, fire alarm sounding, screams. The whole time my brain is screaming at me to stop screaming and start punching. I could not punch because I was wound so tight in my blankets.
Then the perpetrator began yelling. Screaming at me.
Which caused me to panic more. I yelled louder, and began thrashing with new intensity. Please note, all I was fighting were the damn blankets.
Finally, finally I almost free myself. Only to have the perpetrator get closer to me, almost if he was on top of me.
It was beginning to look like the intro to a Law & Order SVU episode. I tried to fight back one last time, about to free my leg from the blankets.
When he yells, "Mo it's me! Mo it's me! It's me Mo! You're okay!"
I stopped screaming in my fire alarm scream, and slowed the flailing, mostly because I was getting more and more tangled in blankets.
Chris looked down at me, looking as panicked as I feel.
"You okay?" He asks gently, still standing by the bed, to ensure its safe for his entry.
I nod, I have tears rolling down my cheeks I'm so relieved and scared. Of course its darker than India Ink and he can't see me. I have to say I'm okay.
Normally during the night I sleep across the entire bed. Taking up way more space than a five foot five inch person should be able to. I normally send Chris to the edge of the bed, where he clings to the side.
This time I clung to the edge. I sought refuge in the hole between the bed and wall. I tried to calm down enough to fall back to sleep.
Sleep didn't happen. When you survive an attack during the night, the last thing you want to do is sleep.
So what did I learn about myself?
Besides that I can function on little sleep the next day?
In a crisis I will try to fight back, even if I am stuck under blankets. This is much better than being the person running around in circles screaming. Or trying to hide under the bed, where we all know monsters live.
I also realized in the aftermath, it's a good thing I was stuck. The possibility of Chris becoming seriously injured if I was able to lay a hand or foot on him was pretty good.
Chris learned that it is best to stand in the doorway and announce himself before entering.
All good things. Except now, I think I will also booby trap the front and bedroom doors before falling asleep.
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