I’m sorry I haven’t posted recently, I’ve had flu and was going to post about how being poorly affects anxiety. This, I think, is much more interesting, although writing it has taken a while because it increases the anxiety when I think about it…
At half past seven on Wednesday morning, Mr D went out to work as he always does, locking the door behind him. I took more notice of this than usual, reassuring myself that the front door was most definitely locked. Trying to be aware of it, so I didn’t start worrying later that he’d forgotten. I have placed a note pad and pen by each front window. I have left the blind in the kitchen closed. I have closed the bathroom door because it casts a shadow at the top of the stairs. I have brought my bag with keys and purse upstairs, and have the front door key and my mobile phone (fully charged) in my pocket. My anxiety was high.
Last Tuesday, at about 11am, someone knocked on the door. Well, “knock” is a poor choice of verb. “Bang” or “pound” might be better. I froze – then went to the front bedroom window to see if I could work out who it was. Normally, if it’s the postman, I can see their van. The person knocking stopped a moment, then rattled at the letterbox, which is brass, spring loaded and makes one hell of a clatter, before going back to pounding on the door.
There was another knocking – fainter this time, and I wondered if they’d gone next door or something, before realising that they were knocking on the living room window. I peeked out of the upstairs window as much as I dared to see who it was. I could see nothing. They banged on the door again – persistent and belligerent.
Then I heard them try to open the front door.
Words cannot describe how I felt – my mouth was dry, and that familiar hypersensitivity prickled my body. My chest tight, my heart pounding. I ran into the back bedroom that is used as an office and picked up the phone, speed-dialled Mr D’s number and when he answered I heard myself loudly whispering that “they won’t stop knocking, they won’t go away and they’ve tried the front door and…”
By this time I was in a full blown state of panic. I sank to the floor and sat against the wall in the bedroom, wanting to hide, wanting to feel safe. I could hear Mr D talking, yet again being my rock. He asked “can you see who it is?” and I stood up and peeped out of the window – in time to see a turquoise car pull off the drive. Yes, off the drive. I didn’t have my glasses on so couldn’t see a registration number, and because I was in such a state I don’t even know what make and model it was.
My afternoon was spent in a state of high alert – every car that went past I was aware of. I closed the blind in the office, and stayed there, hardly daring to move. I didn’t want to think about it because it was making me feel worse, but every distraction technique I could think of meant that if someone did try to get in again, I might not hear them. I was leery of putting the tv on in case the light or sound could be seen from outside. I didn’t want to put my mp3 player on because my headphones are noise cancelling ones. I couldn’t concentrate on a book.
Rationalising afterwards, and trying to figure out who it could be, I decided that it couldn’t be anyone I know – they wouldn’t be that cruel. Maybe a salesperson. We have some loose tiles on the roof, and sometimes builders knock to see if we want a quote. Maybe the police – but surely they would call out to announce themselves if it was that important? Plus in all of these scenarios, WHAT THE FUCK GIVES THEM THE RIGHT TO TRY THE FRONT DOOR???
I’m okay now. I think. I was thinking that this has knocked me back a bit, I’ve been way more anxious when I’m out, and on Friday when B brought me home from the knitting group, I was almost scared to open the door. However, nobody has been back since, so I’m inclined to think it was some kind of salesperson.
Bastards, whoever they were.

4 thoughts on “Visitor

  1. Mary says:

    Hey, it’s good to see you posting again. Sorry to hear you’ve been ill. I hope you’re feeling better now. 🙂
    You’re right, it is very strange. In my limited experience, police/ambulance/fire crews (the only people I’d feel happy about trying my front door) always bang while shouting who they are at the top of their lungs. They don’t generally turn up in turquoise cars either. Someone who knew you personally would have called first, and someone who needed help would have banged a couple of times, assumed there was no one in, and started banging on the next house.
    Still, it’s definitely not unreasonable to check the door is locked and to keep the keys and your mobile on you.
    Actually, one thing comes to mind… how clear is the number on your house? A friend of mine who lives in one of the, uh, less pleasant areas of town, where the houses don’t have numbers because certain people think it’s fun to wander round with a screwdriver at night pinching them, occasionally gets people banging on his door angrily demanding to speak to X. It always turns out that they’ve got the wrong house.

  2. dominocat says:

    Hi, Mary, the house number is very clear – but we wondered about someone getting the wrong address too. It seemed all very *personal* – parking on the drive, trying to open the door.
    Mind if it is someone I know, I will be incredibly pissed off…

  3. I always take my bag to bed. However, I often forget to lock doors. I don’t answer the door unless I can see who it is. Keep your door locked. I always think that it’s my house, if I don’t want to answer I don’t have to! Hope to see you on Friday at Knit n Natter.

  4. acrylik says:

    That’s awful, no one has a right to act like that against your property. It really annoys me when the postman tries to open our door, never mind some complete stranger. If I don’t want to answer the door to my own house, then I don’t have to.

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