I over analyze things.
I know I do it, Im OK with it- its something I've done for 28.5 years now so I doubt it going to change anytime soon even if I do know about it and try to make a conscience effort not to do so.
Yes I know this makes me into an overly-emotional female stereotype.
Im OK with that too.... occasionally.
So about two years ago (January 2011) I decided I really wanted to re-read the Harry Potter books before the final Deathly Hallows movie came out that fall. I hadn't read any of them since they first came out so I figured it would be a good refresher. My pace was pretty slow thanks to the demands of full time work plus Grad School. By May I had only just begun the 4th book- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. At the time I was carrying a large Coach tote bag- big enough for my normal everyday stuff, plus school notebooks and a novel of course- I pretty much don't go anywhere without a novel.
But then the robbery happened. My beautiful bag was gone- and with it so was Harry Potter.
Flash Forward December 2012- I finally ordered and received my new copy of the Goblet of Fire. Its so pretty- and makes me want to start re-reading the series over again (I never did finish after the book was stolen along with all my other stuff).
Within 2 or 3 months after everything was taken, It had all been replaced- the tote (although unfortunately not the same pattern), the phone, the GPS, the wallet- and all of its contents, and of course I had my Roxie back- and thoroughly detailed inside and out (even the thought of her having any remnants of that event and those people made me sick).
Except the novel. Why did I wait so long to replace it- when I still desperately wanted to finish re-reading them before the movie??
(FYI- emotional craziness starts now-----)
Maybe because I had everything else back? It was as though on the outside everything was as it had been- as if nothing had happened. But inside (emotionally) everything was different. And seeing that empty spot in my box set of books was a reminder of why I felt the way I did, that something was missing and I didn't have to pretend as if everything was alright.
Or maybe because I needed a reason to bring it up- like an explanation to people about what happened to me and why I act weird in certain situations (as if someone was ever going to open the box set and ask why I was missing book #4). I felt as though that moment in time was now who I was as a person. I was the friend who got robbed- I was the one who people would tell stories of "....Well this one time my friend got held up at gun point in the middle of the afternoon so you should always be careful and known your surroundings....".
So now I have a brand new copy, its nestled firmly between the old ones in the box with the extra cover from my copy folded in-between.
Does that mean Im completely ready to move on now?
Well- probably not completely- Ill still be overly cautious, wake in fear from bumps in the night and have that little moment of terror when someone unknown walks past my car or approaches me in any situation.
But- I think Ive grown past it. I think my life has normalized itself in the past year and a half enough so that I don't need something to tell me that its ok to not feel completely secure. That while I want to talk about certain aspects- in that they pertain to safety, and my feelings (ugh more girly crap), I no longer feel the need to mention to each person Ive met that I was robbed as though it defines me- because I know it doesn't.
And Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire now reminds me of that.