Between 10:00 am and 3:00 pm. That is the time period in which most burglaries occur. Why do I know this? As a kid, my biggest fear was burglary. I would wake up to the slightest creak in my house’s floorboards and made sure to always, always lock my bedroom door. On the off chance that there was a fire, I was more than willing to take my chances.
One night, in particular, my house’s alarm system began to go off. Petrified that someone had breached my house, I quickly crawled across my bedroom floor to my closet. I hid there for over an hour, even after the alarm stopped. Our alarm system has malfunctioned, but at least I knew I was able to take precautionary measures to protect myself, even if that measure was simply a closet door.
Twelve years later, I still lock my bedroom door. Except now, I don’t have the notable protection of my dad’s guns or my mom’s insomniac alertness. Now, I am three stories up, where I felt safe that no one could reach me. Who would go through the trouble of ascending three flights of stairs just to break into someone’s apartment? I still don’t know the answer to that question.
11 am. I was craving a pumpkin cream cold brew. I closed the door to my apartment, ready to make my way to Dunkin. Fortunately, Dunkin is merely a mile away. I had an internal battle with myself about locking the door; my keys were already in my bag, and I didn’t want to spend time trying to find them. I always leave my door unlocked during the day by accident, and this didn’t feel any different. I continued to Dunkin and shortly returned to my apartment.
As soon as I stepped into my apartment, I was met with the strong smell of marijuana. I hesitated at the entrance and noticed that something felt off. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I told myself as I slid off my sandals and plopped onto my couch. All of my electronics, and I mean all of my electronics, were still perfectly displayed on my desk. Not a single item was displaced, and that was of great aid in my own reassurance.
3:27 am. I open my eyes. Silence. My fan is off. Being extremely paranoid about noises, I always have to sleep with some form of white noise. I begin to reach for the fan remote when I stop, frozen in my bed at the sound coming from my living room. Thud, thud, thud. I couldn’t believe my ears. I continued listening, hoping that the noise was coming from a neighbor’s house. Thud, thud, thud. It’s not.
3:29 am. I text my friend as the noises continue. I don’t know why this was my first instinct. Everyone asks why I didn’t call 911 myself. I ask myself that, too. My friend is awake and tells me she called the police. They’re on their way. I’m frozen in bed. How can this be? I have prepared for this. I have a taser on my dresser and a knife in my drawer. Still frozen.
The banging on my front door stops. While most people would feel relaxed at this, I only tensed more. Were they in my house? My mind began to play tricks on me as I saw shadows dancing across the crack of my bedroom door. If they were inside, all they would have to do is force open my flimsy bedroom door. I would still be sitting there, frozen, basically asking them to harm me. The self deprecating jokes about wanting to die become really unfunny when you think you are about to die. I don’t want to die.
3:54 am. The police are here. I sprint to my front door and swing it open. An officer peruses my apartment before deciding no threat, despite the dents that run along my door. As soon as the police are gone, the tears begin to fall. No stopping. I’m sitting, having the worst realization I have ever had in my life. Someone just tried to break into my apartment. Not just tried; they were more than insistent on getting in.
4:25 pm. I am sitting at my kitchen counter right now, writing this. It’s past the time period for a likely burglary, but I am now convinced Google misled me. I bought a Ring for my front door and have an extra safety lock. It doesn’t amount to much. I haven’t slept in days. I don’t feel safe in my own home. I continuously relive that night, asking myself the same question. Why did I freeze?
If you look into the psychology behind fight or flight, you will notice there’s another action, or lack thereof: freeze. While it seems counterintuitive to make no action at all, apparently it is a way for the body to prepare itself for action. Would I have taken action if the individual had breached my bedroom door? I don’t know. I tell myself I would, just so I don’t feel entirely useless in my own skin. Fight, flight, freeze. I hope I never have to decide between those 3 Fs ever again.