Again, I must apologize about the fragmentation of my thoughts and posts. At this time, I am still trying to build the “foundation” of my life for you, my non-existent reader. As I write these posts, it seems I remember more details and new incidents and I am trying to be as honest, detailed, and descriptive as possible.
Furthermore, writing for a blog is very hard. I can’t wait to get to the fun stuff!
You may recall that Jamie is a liar and an attention seeker, but I will go a step further and say she is a thief.
Jamie babysat for a local business owner, Molly, for several months. She was responsible for watching two children, ages 2 and 4, for several hours each day. Molly was fair and paid Jamie when she said she would pay her, and she paid fairly. In fact, she even gave Jamie bonuses on several occasions: “Here, go buy yourself some new clothes.”
Because Molly was a single mother, I have no doubt that she looked diligently for a trustworthy person to watch her children. However, she was friends with Jamie’s parents, so she felt comfortable with her. Being that she had just gone through a rather nasty divorce, the last thing she needed to worry about was people stealing from her.
Jamie babysat for several months—that is until several hundred dollars went missing from Molly’s apartment. Molly made a police report in which she was required to list every single person who had been in her apartment for investigative purposes.
Jamie was top on my list of suspects.
I had been in the house, as I often accompanied her to babysit. There is simply no way I would have ever stolen from Molly, or anyone else for that matter. There is no way.
Even before this incident, Jamie had been accused and investigated for the theft of $2,000 from her best friend’s apartment. You see, Jamie was the chief suspect because everyone else who had a key to the apartment was in another country. She had to be fingerprinted, investigated, etc. but they were never able to identify anyone, so she was never charged with any crime. Even her best friend eventually turned to suspect her of being responsible for the theft.
Jamie and I shared a mutual friend, Anna. One day, I was discussing the theft of Molly’s money with Anna and I asked her, “Do you think that Jamie stole the money? Do you think she was even capable?” Now, this was before we were nearly positive she had stolen the $2,000, as that investigation was on-going.
Jamie and Anna must have talked later. Anna told Jamie, “He thinks you stole the money.” Obviously, this created some tension, even though it was not true. It lead Jamie to call me and say something along the lines of, “I think YOU stole the money and Molly thinks you stole the money, too.” … “You’re going to jail!”
My heart sank and the tears began to flow. I was sure I was going to be falsely accused of stealing the money and I was going to go to jail. My name was going to permanently and irreparably damaged because of Jamie’s conniving, do-no-wrong personality.
A while later, I decided the best thing to do was to call Molly. I was literally sobbing; she could barely understand me. She had just entered the shower, but she realized that I was truly upset, so she had to hang halfway outside the shower for the ten minutes or so that we spoke. I could hear the shower running in the background.
I told her I would never steal her money. I think I even may have told her that I thought Jamie was responsible. Molly was truly emphathetic: she denied ever saying that she thought I had stolen it; and, because she was honest, I believed her. She really helped ease my anxiety, but I was still feeling it—that’s for sure.
The next day, Anna and I went out. Yes, I am a doormat. She was my transportation. I remember looking out the passenger side window the entire time. I was still very anxious and the tears would run down my face in spurts. I did not speak much. Eventually, I begged her to take me to Molly’s shop.
I entered. I was relatively composed for a short time, while Molly helped with her customers. After the customers left, I literally broke down. I was crying, could barely speak, and Molly felt absolutely terrible. The conversation did not last long, but it consisted of a lot of comforting words and I believe it ended with a hug.
Later that night, Jamie called me and said, “Guess what?”
“What,” I asked, rather angrily.
“Molly stopped the investigation,” she said.
Somehow, that seemed to ease my anxiety and my anger. Jamie apologized for her comments. She said she did not mean them and a simple miscommunication was the cause of all of the mayhem.
Now, I told you that and this (“Someone Pulled the Trigger”) in order to tell you and elaborate on this fact: I had a serious fear of the police.
Perhaps some other situations that lead to my fear of the police were: my father insisting on taking advantage of my fear by blatantly flapping his arms wildly when passing a cop and my parents and brothers constantly threatening to call the police on me. They all knew that this fear existed, so they harped on it. They took advantage of it. They made it worse.
My fear was so severe that I took up a new hobby: listening to a police scanner. At first, I only listened during the waking hours. Later, however, I began listening—or at least having the damn thing on—to the scanner 24 hours a day. If, say, someone’s security alarm went off on my street and I heard the call go out over the scanner, I would rush downstairs, crouch down, and peak out the window. If the cop decided to patrol the neighborhood after “clearing the call,” my immediate and only reaction was, “They’re looking for me.”
Coupled with the social anxiety, my fear of the police also lead me to refuse to leave my house. I was constantly afraid that I would be accused of a crime I did not commit. Furthermore, I knew full-well that truancy was illegal (I was reminded of this fact almost daily), so I was afraid they’d take me to jail for not going to school.
The police did not help the matter much, either. One night in January, very shortly after developing these crippling fears, my brother was taking our dog out. A police officer was patrolling the neighborhood. Simply because he was in the mood to be a jerk—or, rather, he was bored—he decided to drive very slowly by our house, staring my brother down. Instead of just going on his way, he decided to drive by a total of eight times, even after my brother had come inside. This was perhaps the worst time for this to occur, as it really seemed to solidify my fear. I knew he wasn’t on a call, because I quickly grabbed my police scanner and he was still “in service.” In fact, he was just about to be dispatched on a call, but he had to make one more trip down my street.
I rationalized my fear of the police by reminding myself just how much I wanted to become a police officer. I’d always wanted to be a police officer. I knew that, if you have a record, it is nearly impossible to get hired, and I knew I already had some explaining to do.
I see now that my paranoia was simply irrational. It was a smart move to push Jamie and some others out my life, as they were certainly not good influences. However, I simply wish I did not have so much anxiety that I felt it necessary to imprison myself in my house for several years, especially during the most formidable years of my life. You know, the “best time of your life?” 15-19?
But that imprisonment was not caused by my fear of police, I now know: It was caused by severe social anxiety. It took me years to realize this. If only I had realized it earlier. If only my parents, my friends, had realized it earlier. Hindsight’s 20/20.
Filed under: Introduction, Personal, Social Anxiety | Leave a Comment
Tags: anxiety, fear, police, Social Anxiety, truancy
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