I took down the original content of this post (below) and the post following it, when we moved to Winnipeg. I took it down because leaving it up felt like sour grapes, however honestly it was written. Also, after two years of fear and worry, we felt that we could finally move on. We felt free.
I am re-posting the story of How Our Home Became A Prison, not because I want to open old wounds but because some small things which happened recently have brought our experiences rushing back, but for the better.
You see, a little while ago the people who live next to us in Winnipeg asked us to watch their cats. This was out of desperation, as they didn't know us at all but they were caught without a pet sitter and really needed the favour. Given our recent history with such requests, we were hesitant but Husband felt, and I agreed, that we couldn't let the past change the sort of people we are, and so of course we agreed to help the family.
A few weeks later, and not long after the family returned, I got a text from the Mrs. asking if I was available for a chat.
My heart froze in my chest. I had to sit down and wait until the shaking had stopped. I felt cold all over and dizzy, I couldn't stop shivering and felt as though I couldn't breathe. This was either a panic attack or shock or both. Nearly an hour passed before I could respond and said that of course, I would love to chat.
She made me tea.
She offered me cookies.
We talked about music and travel.
Their little boy showed me his puzzles.
Then I came home, sat quietly in my kitchen and cried and cried and cried.
Husband had a similar experience not too long ago when Mr called out a friendly "Halloo" and thanked Husband for blowing out our shared PMQ driveway. Husband shared with me later that this simple and honest gratitude left him feeling quite shaken, and he was forced to take a private moment in order to regain his composure.
I share this re-post today because we find that we are not the same people we were. We are battered and bruised. We are wary now, when we used to trust. We still catch ourselves walking quickly, heads down and shoulders hunched, as we dart from car to door. I share this post out of gratitude for our new community who are, patiently and with kindness, allowing us to take our time becoming friendly. It is also with the hope that our old neighbours have also had an opportunity to heal whatever hurts were causing them such distress that led to so much unfortunate confusion and dismay.
It is also an acknowledgement of what fear can become, if it is allowed to rule your choices. I choose to be braver than the person who wrote this post more than a year ago. I choose to smile and say hello. I choose me.
The following is re-posted from October, 2014 after removing this entry when we moved away in September 2015.
GOOD FENCES
Welp. We have this neighbour who, it turns out, is actually living with a very real/terrifying mental health concern, so although it is technically accurate it is no longer polite or socially acceptable for me to continue referring to him as my crazy neighbour.
Our neighbours tried to sue Husband this summer. Actually sue, as in, "...you have been served and are ordered to appear before the Justice on this date or suffer the consequences which can include but are not limited to a 250 m restraining order to be maintained from your neighbours, Mr and Mrs Blankity Blank, meaning not only will you not be able to enter your own home, sleep in your own bed or park in your own drive but you will have to use the bathroom of the house three doors down to have your morning tinkle."
Seriously. I weep that I am not embellishing this in any way.
This explains the hiatus this blog took for a few months, as we huddled together in the dark, wondering, how in the world did we end up here? What began as a simple disagreement over where and what time of day to shovel snow or who gets to use the public sidewalk had disintegrated, by April, into a stony silence which, while awkward was certainly preferable to the continuous ambushes by Mr and Mrs Insert Name Here, who seemed to wait until we were very nearly out of our vehicles before stopping us with another accusation or unreasonable request.
"Could ya not use your lawn/walk on the sidewalk/shovel after or before us/walk your dogs in public/open your back gate ever? Because up to now we have been doing things the nice way."
What does that even mean? "The nice way."
Apparently, it meant not attempting to sue Husband while at the same time installing security cameras aimed at every access point to our property, including our back yard, with infrared sensors that clicked on whenever we moved in our yard or drive. To test this, I held a few late night fetching sessions with Meeker, just to ascertain where the motion sensors were aimed. Results: everywhere.
The handwritten list of accusations on their statement of "ongoing harassment" were interesting. Husband was to be held to account for a dog walk he did not go on; threats to damage their house which were never uttered or implied; physically preventing Mr Completely Sane Person to leave for work and therefore forcing him to quit his job in order to stay home and guard his house which is frankly just too bizarre to even contemplate; causing the disappearance of their dog which we used to dog-sit; damaging a truck by the simple act of walking past it, the video footage of this alleged act somehow mysteriously "unavailable" and lastly, but certainly not least, for the dissolution of their marriage.
Let that all sink in while I remind you that these people own guns. And they have been in our home, had been treated as friends.
Needless to say, we were nonplussed. I mean, a bully accusing their victim of being a bully? Were they being sly? Did they suspect us of preparing a suit and think they were beating us to the punch? Were they paranoid and delusional, did they truly believe the things they had written? And if so, are we now in any physical danger?
We asked all of these questions to ourselves, our friends, the police, our lawyer and my counsellor. The answer was pretty consistent. Move. Sell the house. Get out, get away, get safe. These people had declared in their actual statement that neither of them were mentally well and that they believed they were being pushed to limits to which they did not wish to go. Up until getting sued we thought that meant putting up a snow fence. Now, we have no idea.
The papers were served on July 14. We had a month to prepare a response, which we did by talking to all of our other neighours, and the Next Door's old landlords. Turns out we are not the only ones to fall victim to their bullying, although we seem to be the first on the street to be sued. The difference in our case is that we refused to comply with their outrageous requests or simply ignored them. Most of our neighbours were happy to speak with us about their experience but stopped short of helping us with a sworn statement. They were afraid. And didn't want the attention pointed back in their direction. One neighbour did step up to help us, and for that we are very grateful as his statement reflected experience with the Mc So and So's very similar to our own.
We appeared in court on the prescribed date, with a very capable lawyer and our sworn statements. The Next Doors appeared with jeans and dark "these are the ones I wear every day, your honour" glasses. The justice glanced over the file for 5 horrible, silent minutes and then peered over his glasses and asked the plaintiffs to take a look about the very full courtroom, at all the people there with "real problems" who's time they were wasting, not to mention the Justice's own. Then the justice asked Mr and Mrs Next Door, and Husband, if they thought voluntarily seeking mediation would be an acceptable solution, "the way adults would". It was a yes all around, of course, and the case was dismissed.
Talk about relief. Talk about shaking from adrenaline overload. Talk about the $2000 in legal fees which represented the bulk of the tuition money I had saved over the last year that was now in the deserving hands of our legal counsel and not, as it were, helping me to change careers. Talk about needing a coffee.
We drove home, packed up the van with camping supplies and the dogs, handed the house keys to a friend with instructions not to let Fritti starve, and left. For 10 days. Our original vacation plan, one we had drawn up the previous spring, and which had been postponed in order to appear in court, was to make a leisurely and grand tour of Vancouver Island, to reunite with old friends and visit favourite haunts, to rest and enjoy the ocean.
Instead, we left Cold Lake at 5 pm on a Monday and drove off the ferry into Nanaimo at 11:30 pm the next day. We stopped to sleep in a motel and then drove straight to our Tofino campsite the following morning. We set up our tent, walked to the beach, sat down with our toes in the ocean, held each other close and wept with exhaustion. I don't remember the drive to BC. I don't recall detecting the first hint of my beloved ocean on the breeze. I don't remember the mountains. I just remember shaking with confusion and shock. For 6 days. I remember aching to see old friends but hating the thought of people and voices. I remember slowly realizing that, hey, it's been 5 whole minutes since we had any thought of the neighbours. And I remember finally relaxing almost a week later, just long enough to go surfing for a few hours.
And then we drove back to the house, on the street on which we live. It was no longer a home, just a burden we had to bear until posting season and sweet freedom.
We don't know what to expect next, we've given up attempting to predict or explain the behaviour of the Next Doors, who still make a point of watching Husband very carefully whenever he is outside alone. We are convinced that it is not over and so we are careful. We have followed the advice of the justice who counseled mediation but have had no success in connecting with the Next Doors. And so we wait.
We are also playing a game of "Stating Random Vegetable Names" whenever we go outside, just to keep things interesting.
I have attempted to make light of our situation in order to cope, but we do take the now seemingly real threat to our safety very seriously. We have an emergency plan in place, thanks to the excellent support services available through the MFRC at CFB Cold Lake. My god. I just typed those actual words. I ask myself daily, how did we get here?
