If they take my stapler then I’ll set the building on fire…

When I went to the mental hospital the last time, I was staying with my father. He had just passed away.

Obviously, his passing was a catalyst for the hospital. But, that’s not what this post is about.

When I was in the hospital, my stuff was stolen out of my dad’s house. Both of the brothers denied knowing anything about it and even pointed fingers at each other.

A whole car load of stuff was stolen. Things very personal. Like my Victoria Secret bras.

My iPhone came up missing while I was away. When I got back to my parent’s house in Louisiana, I did an inventory of what I had.

I had one shoe but not the other (five pairs including my Crossfit and running shoes). I was missing my very expensive Uggs and Cole Haan Nike heels altogether. My workout clothes were missing. So much of my nice clothing was gone.

Most of my makeup was gone. Actually, all my personal bathroom toiletries were gone. I can’t imagine someone using them so I suspect that they were maliciously thrown in the trash.

All my jewelry. My kitchen appliances. My iPod radio.

Shockingly, and I did report this to the authorities but I had a gun and I never got that back either. To this day, I haven’t heard anything.

I was upset about my black alarm clock because my uncle gave that to me when I got my first job. I had it for years. I just replaced it with an identical one but it is white. Not the same but it’s the best I could do.

For me, the most upsetting thing was my missing journaling supplies and books. But, I did get back a book one of my friend’s gave me so I feel fortunate to have that one back in exchange for all the others.

And, I have replaced all the other books. Almost all of them I’ve come across in thrift stores or a second hand book store. I just ordered the last one on Amazon last night and it is being shipped.

It really sucks losing my stuff. I can’t imagine someone stealing from a mental patient but believe it. There are those people in this world. It still irks me if I think about it.

But, things are ok because I’ve replaced everything I could remember.

I figured if I can’t remember the item enough to replace it, it must not have been that big of a deal.

So, yeah, that’s one of the things that happened to me that makes moving on so difficult. I still can’t believe it happened.

I wouldn’t say I’m attached to my stuff but as I write this I must admit I am. I like what I like. I buy quality stuff. I like to keep that stuff. I like my stuff just so so. When it comes up missing or someone does something to it, it’s very upsetting. I go all “Where is my red Swingline stapler?”

It’s very comforting to me to have the stuff I like back again even if I had to buy it all over again.