We were robbed.

We were robbed.

We all travel through our lives with a constructed reality held together by beliefs, in which our perception of the the world becomes our paradigm to experience reality. Our lives are experienced  in relation to the foundational beliefs we have in place. Everything is a relative to something else and those beliefs for many of us are so inflexible, we believe they are the ultimate reality. And I have argued more than once, there are no ultimate truths greater than our own perception.

We were robbed.

One of those beliefs set at the foundation of my reality is the belief “the world is a safe place.”

We were robbed.

I have worked hard to create my experience of the world based on perceptual reality filled with freedom, joy and trust. I have consciously given up beliefs rooted in fear. I have expressed liberty in my life and taught those experiences to my son.

We were robbed.

And still, with the strength of being, I was deeply effected, like a stick thrown into the spoke of a bicycle wheel I was thrown off, reeling into the air, landing on my ass with a giant thump.

We were robbed.

I had Miro move his bed into my room next to mine. For a week I did not get out of bed. I sobbed, cycled through so many thoughts, so many feelings, so many perceptions about the world around me. I withdrew, retreated and hid. I lost that sparkle in my eyes and feel like it still hasn’t completely returned.

We were robbed.

Logically there’s much to be grateful for. The stuff that was taken was not substantial.  The stuff can be replaced.

We were not hurt.

Saturday evening I had returned home from spending the entire day with 3 sets of families that were visiting Cusco. I had arranged a family despacho ceremony for the group and we had an incredible afternoon exploring the wooded forest above Cusco, exploring the site of a few ancient ruins, climbing over boulders and exploring caverns. Cesar sat with the parents for a couple of hours sharing his knowledge of the sacred sites, the old traditions and wisdom about the Andean mysticism as the children played in and around the river, the Incas once used to cleanse before entering the sacred site of Saqsaywaman. Then, after a couple of hours, as a group we all settled into the beautiful despacho ceremony honoring mother earth. (I wrote about the ceremony here.) I took wonderful photos of the ceremony.

Returning home I was exhausted and elated at the same time. I made dinner and although Miro and I had agreed to meet the families to see a movie later that night, Miro decided he didn’t want to see the kids film they were showing and would rather stay in.

Personally, I was content staying in and sorting through the photos of that day.

As I do every night before, I hang my purse on the edge of the kitchen chair, containing wallet, ID, keys and everything. Normally I place my camera on the shelf by the door in the kitchen.

But this night, I took my purse and camera upstairs with me to my bedroom as I decided I preferred to get into bed and sort through the days photos.

The reason I grabbed my purse too? I don’t know, because I never do that. Then around 10:00 pm, I drifted off to sleep, entered a dream state of bliss…

We were robbed.

Miro has been empowered for a long time to make his own choices. He wasn’t interested in going to the despacho ceremony with me and the other families, and has attended a couple other ceremonies in the past already.

None of the kids were his age and he just preferred to skip it.
OK – Teen independence. I’m fine with that.

Miro is empowered to choose what time he wants to go to sleep and when he wants to wake up. Although many times I wish he’d make other choices, I will never force him to choose something different in order to please me.

Recently, I have been accustomed to hearing the sounds of Miro’s excited voice coming through his room playing games, talking via skype late into the night. Sometimes I hear him playing straight through into the morning. I feel strongly, he has the ability to make his own choices about his life and as long as he takes care of his obligations to his business, shows up for any joint plans we both commit to, he’s fine with that.

I am a light sleeper, and usually wake up very easily.

Early Sunday morning, I woke up to sound of footsteps in the hallway. The hardwood floors creak. It didn’t sound normal but I rationalized in my sleepy state, Miro must still be awake, needed  to go to the bathroom and was walking around just a bit.

The sounds woke me up and I found myself staring out into the dark, listening through my eyes..

Then slowly, my door started to open… I stared wide-eyed at the door, and said in a hushed morning voice, “Miro, what are you doing? Is everything ok?”

Then, quietly and intentionally, the door shut ….

….more walking around upstairs…more creaking on the wooden floor boards…

…then a few moments later, the door quietly opened again. Once more I spoke, “Miro, what are you doing? Are you ok?”

Again the door gently shut. Then after a few minutes, the creaking floor noises stopped…

Then the dogs barked. “The dogs must have seen a rat,” I thought…

Then, a brief glance at the clock, 5:10, then a quick trip to bathroom, then back into bed. I quickly drifted back to sleep for a few more hours.

My eyes opened at 9:30 Sunday morning, feeling a little restless, but ready for the day. I turned on my laptop and was immediately messaged by a friend and stared chatting. We chatted for an hour and at 10:30 I finally got up out of bed.

I grabbed my computer and headed downstairs, ready to make some coffee.

Miro’s bedroom door was open so I went in. I said, “Miro, hey, you must have been sleep walking last night.. are you ok?” ….. He just looked at me with that sleepy grin and said, “I don’t know what you are talking about,” then threw a pillow over his head and rolled over in the opposite direction. I walked down the stairs and saw the front door was open, propped open by a rock.

I was confused.

Then I noticed the back door was open too, leading the  outdoor laundry area. Both doors were left wide open. I was sure I didn’t leave them open. Then, I looked into the kitchen, the balon of gas was missing… it hit me, I realized in that moment…..

WE WERE ROBBED.

I started screaming.

Miro yelled down. “What’s wrong Mom?” I yelled back “We were robbed!” Miro yelled back, “my computers are gone!”.

“Oh fuck!” I screamed, then I went outside to the front of our house and and let out a shriek. I screamed and screamed and screamed…

In that moment, I realized the footsteps I heard were that of the robbers.

In that moment, I realized they were the ones opening up my door.

In that moment, I realized they were in Miro’s room, inches away from my son’s head.

With that thought, I started to sob. I started to uncontrollably sob. I realized they could have hurt my child. I felt disgusted, I felt like a violated, I felt guilty and I felt powerless. But the most terrible feeling was, I felt like a failure. It was my job to protect my son and I failed.

We were robbed.

I have never been robbed. I have never had any experience like this.

I could handle the material loss, which was minimal. We lost a couple of personal items, 2 backpacks, our gas for cooking, and 2 computers, computer cases, our kindle, a hard drive… I knew we could replace those things.. But I had no idea how to deal with the emotional loss, the deep feeling of violation.

I sobbed on and off for almost 2 days straight, with no consoling. Was it fear I was feeling? No. I didn’t think so. Was I afraid  they would come back? No. I was sure they wouldn’t. It is hard to define the emotion sourcing through my soul…. It was a release, an acknowledgment that my paradigm had shifted, what I knew to be my truth was no longer true.

I asked Miro  to move into my room with me. He did.

We laid on our mattresses watching movies on my computer for days.  I didn’t want to go outside. I didn’t want to be in the world. I had no appetite and no desire to do anything at all.

An endless stream of movies played, but I wasn’t really there. My eyes, mostly glazed over out of focus as my head pointed in the direction of the movies. We watched four or five movies every day but I was just checked out. I withdrew into a place that only existed in my head…

Then around the fourth day, I started to wake up. In my mind, I started to replay that morning from the moment I heard the footsteps and the moment head, suddenly becoming “wonder woman”.

In my mind, the events played out very differently. I woke up, already with my magical red patent bad-ass boots on my feet and a golden lasso around my waist.

In my mind, I opened the door and round house kicked the fuckers in the face. I felt the surge of anger transform into a golden ball of steel power travel up my spine, across my shoulder blade then thrust down my arm. Then in my mind, that power-ball serged out the palm of my hand with such force, reeling into the beady eyed robber’s bodies. They would fly across the hallway opposite my bedroom door.

The incredible force would stun their bodies as they’d hit the wall behind them and be rendered unconscious, a single dribble of blood oozing from the corner of their mouth.

Then I felt the satisfaction of hurting them.

And as my mind observed this day dream and realized I was utterly disappointed in myself and the things I was feeling.

I was supposed to feel compassion. But in the privacy of my mind, I imagined revenge. I wanted nothing more than to hurt these faceless people with a vengeance.

These people who didn’t hurt us physically. These people who could have hurt us, were so close to my sleeping son. There was something truly to be grateful. These vengeful thoughts were simply not me.   But they were there, nonetheless. I tried to consciously  not identifying with them. I wanted to think I am  more evolved than that.

But I guess I am not.

And then, more crying…

Being robbed effected me deeply.… There are moments I see the gift in this. But I realize that I am not that pillar of strength regardless of what others think…  I hear the words of reason spoken from those around, in attempt to comfort me. But I’m reeling from the perceptual changes in both my  outer and inner worlds.  My constructed reality has ultimately shifted. My paradigm framing how I used to see the world is skewed. Everything is shaken up, upside-down, backwards, not right…

I’ll adjust.

We were robbed.

It just might be a good thing after all.

Not just “things” were taken from us, but the very ground I walk on now is once again anew.