Journal Entry – Mon Nov 30

It’s almost Christmas. I’m gonna be 47 in 3 weeks 6 days, or 27 days, or 648 hours, or 38,880 minutes, or 2,332,800 seconds. Dee is playing Billy Idol’s White Wedding. I told her to turn it up.

Something happened at work today, but I will not tell you about it because I know I am overly sensitive. I don’t want to talk about it because I hope to forget it even though I’m still thinking about it 11 hours later. I hate that!!! Drop it already!

There’s this thing you can do in Buddhism where you don’t necessarily try to stop the feeling or the thought, but you let it run and imagine your mind as an entity separate from you; a petulant child, throwing a fit, for example. So you let your child misbehave without entertaining her. Essentially you are saying, “I see you over there flippin’ out, and it’s alright. When you’ve calmed down, I will hug you and we can move on.” 

I think I explained that right. I keep telling myself that my boss’ behaviour says everything about him and nothing about me and that he’s done this passive-aggressive thing to others (that doesn’t make it ok and it doesn’t make me feel better). Once I feel like this isn’t consuming my life, I promise you I will talk about it.  

I’m annoyed with myself. Moving on … I might not sleep tonight. It’s supposed to snow tomorrow for our drive to London.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. Listening to a faint scratching and an unfamiliar voice calling my name. “Samantha. Samantha. Samantha.” Was I dreaming? Adjusting to the light, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. 2:30 am! Then I heard it again. Closer … “Samantha. Samantha. Samantha …” accompanied by louder scratching. Terrified, I mouthed, “What the fuck!”

Then a random song started playing in my head; 🎶who could it be, knocking at my door? (scratching, in this case) Go away. Don’t come back here no more. Can’t you see that it’s late at night … 🎶 Shut up, I told myself. That’s not helpful. “Come to the door, Samantha. Come to the door.” You’re insane if you think I’m leaving this bed. I pulled my quilt closer. Just under my chin, and wished I could disappear. “I can come in and get you.” What! Can he hear my thoughts? 

“Yes! I can.” 

What do you want? 

“I want you to come to the door.”

Which door? I have a bedroom door, two bathroom doors, a couple of closet doors, a front door, a balcony door, cupboard doors!

Even closer now. He could have been inside my bedroom. “If you don’t get out of that bed I will pour Janola premium bleach into your fish tank.” Oh no! DJ. Tiger. Other fish I haven’t named yet! My heart was racing. I reluctantly threw off my covers and used the moonlight to navigate. Ever so slowly, I opened my bedroom door. CREEK! SQUEAK! What the hell? I just put WD40 on these damn hinges. I can’t sneak anywhere!

Peering out, down the hall, towards the living room. I saw him. Standing by the fish tank. A tall, shadowy figure.

“Do you know who I am?” No, I thought, shaking my head. 

“Why were you looking through my mailslot earlier today?”

Oh shit! It’s my next-door neighbour!

Feature Photo Credit: visa vietnam from Pixabay

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