Under The Rug


Today is Monday. 3:00 PM EST.  I hadn’t opened my laptop since Saturday afternoon until just now.

This is not your run of the mill post. I don’t feel like drumming up thoughts and theories.

What I experienced yesterday is only a minutiae in the concept of being “missing”.

This is real and in no way fake or written for effect, basically because I regularly blog about a internet obsessed case. The silver lining was first hand perspective.

Scorching hot and sunny Saturday afternoon, I left home to Wynwood. I would never have thought that a casual hangout starting at a hipster bar would lead into my family thinking that I vanished.

Rapport led one thing to another. While driving my friend and I enjoyed my curated Spotify playlist. MacDonald’s. Endlessly watching music videos from artists such as Wild Oak, Marian Hill, and L.A Priest. Seriously, watching stuff on a projector brings a rich quality to details you missed before. Anyways, I was having a good time.

The warm reception made me really feel at home; ironically I was avoiding my own. I went off the grid. No social media. No incessant checking my phone. I stayed overnight.

What happened in the morning will stay with me. Dozens of missed phone calls. My family was frantically checking into my welfare. I knew this would happen.

IMG_3022Apologetically I called my mom that everything was alright. Literally nothing happened to me. Anyways, she took the day off work. Thought about calling 911 by midday if I was still a no-show. Social media posts were made in the description of a police BOLO alert. Thankfully only relatives saw that. I would have died of embarrassment before an actual perpetrator took my own life.

Who knows what went through their minds.

Rape. Abduction. Dismemberment. Despairing and dormant years of the unknown.

My own laptop was inspected. Learning that was pretty cringe worthy. Your browser history being intruded is like someone hijacking into your own mind. Personal things are literally there. I don’t judge my family for taking matters into their own hands. I even heard that relatives cried through the grapevine.

Somehow they were able to unearth intricate details, like the $3 Uber ride from the day before.

Just the gravitas put into finding my whereabouts was enough. I felt sorry for my family for fearing the worst. Mostly guilt tripped. Much easier to say where you were than ignoring the phone.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Being away from home was cathartic. I won’t get into the specifics but my living conditions aren’t exactly the best. Cabin fever brings me vulnerable to the point of staying indoors for weeks. A vicious cycle exists between fighting and desiring being social. Entrapment fuels my depression and anxiety.

I’m sick of hiding my sickness. Continually I’ve been sweeping my life under the rug. Although my MIA-ness was a misunderstanding, it was actually a cry for help on my part.

Thankfully the environment wasn’t hostile. My parents and I embraced. I discussed my ongoing problems. We all actually listened and communicated in an adult manner. As the youngest child of the family –and a woman for that matter– everyone is just automatically protective. Being directionless makes me feel very inadequate, especially as a young adult. I’m not the self-involved and productive person that I wanna be. I keep my personal life as vague as possible.  Hell, my family aren’t even aware about the Sword & Scale meetup, the one where I got super drunk. I didn’t even show a sign of inebriation once I got home.

The introduction about my laptop is real. I couldn’t even bare operating it having the knowledge that a third party was sleuthing into my digital personal space. This kind of experience, while short lived, brought perspective of how missing people are treated. Since I discuss Maura Murray all the time, I think if she knew people were looking for her, she would have been alert and embarrassed by the whole ordeal. She would have informed family and friends of her well being as soon as possible (like I did).

Even though more than a day has passed, I’m still percolating on what happened. Why it happened. Why it mattered. I’m glad this didn’t spread like wildfire. When you’re unintentionally boxed into the proverbial shoes as a “missing” person, the experience is very raw.

A friend reminded me that even if law enforcement were notified, as an adult, police would tell my family I had the right to leave. As desperately as loved ones want results, there are certain divides in the way (age, race, gender). Still doesn’t mean they’ll be deterred though. Just last week a kayaker went off the trail because he wanted to grab a delicious bite of New York pizza. Really. Then people panicked the worst. Read it here.

This is where my situation kinda falls in between.

If you see an advertisement about a life insurance company, please know that is not my tongue in cheek way of assuaging this situation. I’m already being morbidly boxed.

Such is life.




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