My Lingerie Thief Said She Envied My Shopping Habits

I went to the police station to give a recorded statement, it is interesting to see first hand how that process unfolds. I learned my little thief is a 20 year old Business student. She turned herself in to the police statement after finding out she is getting evicted. She admitted guilt, she has a clean record, she returned my package to the police, and she typed me out an “apology” letter. A letter that detailed, the entire time, about herself, how it would ruin her life to get in trouble. How she is in business school, how she stole my lingerie package because she envied my shopping habits and will never be able to afford Victoria’s Secret. How she will never, ever, ever do something like this again. Besides the blatant, screaming entitlement throughout her letter, it struck me how she didn’t even take the time to use spell check. Writing guilty, gilty, and various other words or grammar in sloppy form. To me, her sincerity is non existent, wrapped in a selfish bubble of oh shit, I actually got caught and now there may be long term damage to my pretty little life. I have been envious of others before, never did I take something from them. It isn’t the situation, but who you are in the deeper levels. I’ve been stolen from many times from girls, working girls, who were mad or jealous or who knows from work in previous years. I’ve been robbed in a home as well. Even while on welfare, with barely anything, as a teenager, girls in my high school were envious and attacked me. Envious of what. There isn’t anything I have that isn’t achievable for another. There isn’t anything I do or say that isn’t achievable to learn, grow, become.

To be stolen from a neighbour, someone who may pass you in the hallway who knows how many times, feels dehumanizing. It isn’t personal, no, but the idea is very personal. Her constructed idea of who I am and what she deserves, wants, feels entitled to take a package of nice things is illegal. I really doubt she assumes I am a single mom who lives on my own with my baby. I really doubt she assumes that I haven’t had really nice lingerie in 2.5 years. I really doubt, this little bitch understands hardship, and instead feels her plight of experiences are more important than my petty lingerie. Reading her letter did not achieve a goal of sympathy, rather it made me angrier how obvious she felt in no wrong, but now was scared and doing sloppy damage control for her benefit because reality is real. There are consequences and responsibilities. There are no excuses. She will find a place, she can couch surf, I have couch surfed many times, with a cat and a dog. I have no idea if she has pets, but she will be fine. She won’t have a reference, she can ask a friend to be her landlord reference. I’m sure she will lose her damage deposit. She can figure it out. I hope the value of my lingerie versus all the losses she has incurred on herself was worth it.

No matter how low of a situation I have been in, food bank, cashing bottles for money, I never once stole from someone.  To me, someone like her, with her clean record, begging letter going on and on about her life, herself, her, her, her, her, and not a single ounce of understanding of my point of view, is the real crime. A crime against herself, that only she can fix for herself by herself. I was told apparently she passed the package, looked at it, thought, then came back again, looked at it. Then took it. I wonder what her days are like, whether she lives alone too. I wonder what she spends her days doing in-between school. Scrolling Instagram? It sits deep with me for her to say she will never be able to afford Victoria’s Secret. It is so, short sighted. And, such a big lie. Does she truly believe that? Does she truly believe that? Especially being in business school. Yes, I see many people with degrees working in jobs unrelated to their degree. Except, the people I have known or seen in business school, end up having good jobs. All of them, actually. Even if she didn’t,  Victoria’s Secret is not an out of this world priced brand. You can save your GST return to buy a set, easily. You can save Christmas money, you can cash bottles in, you can do a long list of things and wait, then buy it. If that truly is what you wanted. I remember when I was 12 I spent months saving for a $11 Martha Stewart magazine and a special $25 coin from the post office. I loved to collect coins, and I loved, well still do love, Martha Stewart. I still have that magazine and I still have that coin.

I also wonder, why she is living in a building like mine, as a student. When I was a student my rent was half as much as I pay here now, most people in my building I would say are middle class or above. Students I have known tend to live with roommates of like 4-6 people. Even living alone as a student when I went to school was kind of whoa. I sacrificed a lot to live alone at the time, I shopped maybe once a year for a single Lulu Lemon sports bra back then. I scoured thrift stores, I still do. To me, my thief is weak. She turned herself in after seeing the beginning of consequences of her selfish actions, and I do feel she isn’t telling the whole story. I told the corporal her letter meant nothing to me, and that I would like to continue forward in consequences for her, with something volunteer or community service. I do not believe in apologies. I believe in accountability.

So, me and my little thief will meet. I am not sure how soon or when yet. Within restorative justice, she can get a support person and I too. Then we decide the outcome of what is satisfactory for her to proceed with. The corporal said my little thief was very thankful and accepted the offer of restorative justice. Bitch, this isn’t empathy or sympathy. This is in no part, feelings for her as she has had zero and shown so, towards me, one that she shares a community with. This, is more what I feel makes the most sense in what would help, in my opinion, a grossly entitled little cunt to do less damage upon others in the future. Especially, if she is in business. I’m looking at places to suggest for her to volunteer, and frankly I think this girl needs a Psychologist as well. Her soul needs work. A lot of ongoing work. She is weak, and needs to learn strength. Especially in Business school? Damn. Those that arrange us the meeting within restorative justice will contact within the next couple of weeks, the corporal called me and told me my little thief agreed to my arrangement. Also, since she had returned the package to the police, we can decide what happens with the package next. Personally, I want it to go to a women’s group, and perhaps she can volunteer at something related to that. I’m glad she is getting the fuck out of my building, I finally felt safe living here after many years of not feeling safe from various other scenarios. Having to be hyper vigilant all over again, I don’t like those feelings. I shouldn’t have to worry about my package being downstairs for three hours that it may be stolen by a jealous baby girl.

I think, at the end of the day, you better watch who you fuck with. Learn respect. Love your community. Be kind to others.

As well as, you better check yourself. Because you never know who your neighbour may be.

 

Just a little copy paste here what restorative justice is,

“Restorative justice has been part of Canada’s criminal justice system for over 40 years. Restorative justice is commonly defined as an approach to justice that focuses on addressing the harm caused by crime while holding the offender responsible for their actions, by providing an opportunity for the parties directly affected by the crime – victims, offenders and communities – to identify and address their needs in the aftermath of a crime.

Restorative justice is based on an understanding that crime is a violation of people and relationships. The principles of restorative justice are based on respect, compassion and inclusivity. Restorative justice encourages meaningful engagement and accountability and provides an opportunity for healing, reparation and reintegration. Restorative justice processes take various forms and may take place at all stages of the criminal justice system.”

From the Justice Government of Canada website


CHANGED BEHAVIOR

At the most basic level, changed behaviour by the offender means not committing crimes. This is why negotiated agreements will include elements such as changing the offender’s environment, helping the offender learn new behaviours, and rewarding positive change. Attending school and not hanging out in old haunts are ways to change the environment. Drug treatment programmes, anger management classes, and educational and job training programmes are ways that offenders learn new behaviours. Follow-up meetings to the encounters may be used to monitor the offender’s progress in trying to change and give him/her positive reinforcement on progress made.

GENEROSITY

But the outcomes of restorative processes suggest that victims and offenders may move beyond simply balancing the books. Offenders may offer to perform services that are not related to the crime or to the victim, but that are understood by the victim as evidence of a sincere apology. For example, the offender may agree to perform community service at an agency the victim chooses.

RESTITUTION

Restitution can be made by returning or replacing property, paying money, or providing direct services to the victim. Restitution should be paid first to the persons suffering direct harm from the crime, including surviving family members of murder victims. If community service is ordered or agreed to as a way of “paying a debt to society”, rather than volunteered as evidence of generosity, it is important to have a clear link between the crime and the community service the offender will do. Ideally, it will have a direct bearing on the needs and interests of the victim.

 

From restorativejustice.org

Single’s Awareness Day

I hope everyone had a good V day or galentine’s or single’s awareness day. The last few days have been wearing on me. Mr. Baby going through baby woes but screaming breaks my brain at times. He seems to be on the up and up later today. The snow makes me feel trapped, normally we go for a walk or two daily. Except, now I can’t. It’s hard to imagine the difficulty unless you are in the moment. Part of sidewalk clear then not clear then not. The furthest we can get is one building over, so I walked with him on foot to a smaller store near by than our usual grocery. It just upsets me, I am glad snow does not last long here but I feel unhinged feeling trapped. How ridiculous a small bit of snow creates such a huge change. Can’t navigate too many streets, and on babysitting days I work, not walk on my own.

Valentine’s day was slow and so was today, family day. Then the toilet clogged and I tried again to leave seeing rain had cleared some snow. Nope, still cannot get to the store. I tried. The plunger is draped inside the toilet, full of soap and whatever other stupid DIY online has told me works. I don’t know why this particular toilet is so difficult I had no issues with a plunger any other place I have lived. Something as simple as going to the store for draino is not a possibility at the moment. I will go on my own tomorrow, while I have babysitting, but just everything compounded the last couple days I feel foul.

Valentine’s day is one of my favourite holidays despite rarely having a valentine on one. Someone stole my lingerie delivered in my building in a boring black package and I cannot get over that. I was too excited and then someone fucking steals it. I am grateful those that buy me it from my fan web site, the package originally got delivered last Tuesday on the 9th and I still have not figured out who took it. However, Victoria’s Secret is amazing, sent out a replacement to arrive soon. I filed a police report, building is checking the camera. It just feels so violating. And there are packages left all the time for residents. Why that package. In a matter of three hours. I have been robbed before, in a house. It took me three days to really sink it in someone came in and took my laptop, and I had a roommate at the time, they stole her guitar. Each time I go downstairs here I see other packages. Why my package, why that package. I get things delivered often that are boring, diaper wipes. Others have packages big and small. I realized it isn’t a personal assault on me, it isn’t a personalized target, my diaper wipes did not get stolen. It just feels violating, bitter, and I normally run to get packages as I am excited. This time I did not, as I was working and figured would pick it up after picking up Mr. Baby and I regret not following my usual routine of grabbing something right away I am excited to receive.

Every faucet of these sour notes is kind of whatever on their own, but together I’m just really fucking sad, upset. The possibility of taking time off is not an option. I’m beginning to have anxiety again that I have managed well to rid of for many months. Not being able to eat until late late at night every moment full of screaming or feeling I am not doing enough online. It makes me angry when people have called me an independent woman. I am not of a belief a person truly asks to be independent. People are social creatures. It is not a choice of full contentment. My commitment to values or a commitment to keeping a non dramatic household is not a badge of independence honour. It just happens to be a side effect. If you have a choice between not having something or doing it yourself, what are you going to do? You try to fix the toilet yourself. You try to drag the stroller through this dumb snow that is no obstacle to many. The smallest thing is a huge thing to some. Wheel chairs, strollers, walkers. It makes me angry some people assume I have a boyfriend. It makes me angry some people assume someone takes my pictures. In a heartbeat my friends would go and drop what I need off if I asked. It isn’t like I am abandoned, alone in the supportive sense. I feel unravelled this last week and any navigation back to not feeling that is not working. I have nothing good to say here as all I feel is rage and sadness. Coupled with each other in a wild devilish dance. It is so rarely I unveil vulnerability of this type, bound by years of emotional snipers ready to capitalize on an emotional opportunity. I haven’t been around those girls since I left. Yet the poison still binds me. Stoic coldness or death. Down to earth or death. Polite indifference or death. I understand why so many working girls are not kind. I do not blame them, not even the slightest. I do not condone it either though. How much harder it is to be kind in the midst of those that drink up your soul from emotional warfare. What is normal vulnerability around square people is a portal to being destroyed. The only other people i’ve met that seem to understand that have been in the military.

I remember it snowed, too, Valentine’s day, 2019 and my last day forever there unknowing to all the girls except the managers. My mentor had picked up the day specifically to see me to say goodbye. The snow prevented her from coming to work. I never got to say goodbye. I think of this often. How we never got to have one last conversation. How guilty I felt keeping my pregnancy a secret from her. How I wish I could have said goodbye and the fucking snow prevented that. I never got to see her again. I never will. It isn’t like that in the working girl world of those types. I packed up my stuff and left as discreetly as possible. The girls there that day didn’t see me bringing more stuff than usual. They didn’t notice my empty locker. I was as quiet and discreet as possible. Me and my future Mr. Baby inside of me off to a different, quieter life.

2020 Valentine I actually don’t remember. Blacked out. A ex I kicked out in summertime would have been here with me. Except, I can’t remember. Majority of last year I don’t remember outside of Mr. Baby or things related to online. I remember things about you guys online, minute details, I remember many firsts of Mr. Baby. But other than that? Nothing. Blurs of scream crying most days and never knowing what day he would come home to rip me apart or Mr. Baby. How I wouldn’t know what he was up to. How I will never forgive him for how he treated my baby. How I will never forget the breach of trust on every level. How eternally grateful I am he was never his daddo. I can only imagine having a person like that, stuck as your co parent. Not remembering most of last year outside of working online or Mr. Baby doesn’t disturb me. It is just something realized and kind of it is what it is feeling.

Disassociation has always been my strong default, clearly. It is the main thing that has kept me upright despite any circumstance. A willful ignorance perhaps. Amnesia is a blessing.

I had a dream about baby daddy the other day that severely disturbed me. When I looked it up it talked about how I was onto thriving, no longer just surviving. How my subconscious was loving him to balance the hateful suffering of my conscious awareness. I’m not sure how to navigate that. Although I cut my ex off many months ago, I still have baby daddy in my peripheral, and thankfully we never dated. He told me how much of a cunt second baby mama is. Gee, hard to imagine why she acts a certain way towards him. I wonder what the other mamas think. I wonder about if my baby will ever meet his half-sisters, one is 25, the other is 6 weeks younger than Mr. Baby. He has met his half-brother, 10 years older, but it is always this weird orchestrated feeling event.

Regardless, the lingerie will arrive, Mr.Baby is fine already, the person of thievery will likely not be caught, people will be more active online, I will get draino. The ratchet snow will melt and I will be free to walk around again.

Writing it, thinking it logically just doesn’t erode the crushing sadness or anger. What’s more important is where does that energy go from here?