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It was the summer of 2011, and I was returning home at about 10:30pm from a glass of wine with friends. The previous few weeks had been a bit tumultuous for me personally, and I'd been feeling some frustration about how I could remedy the feelings of discontent I'd been recently experiencing. I was eager for some creative expression and a change in my life, but I wasn't quite sure what that looked like.
I was in an upbeat mood that night nonetheless, as the evening was heading into a long weekend, and I had upcoming plans to join my boyfriend for two weeks in Germany, for which he'd already departed just a day or two earlier.
As I pulled my car into our underground garage that night, I noticed that something was amiss - I could see through a small window beside the driveway, that our bedroom light was on. I was pretty sure I had turned that light off - in fact, I had a distinct memory of having done so - but didn't think too much of it, except that perhaps Chris had returned from Europe because he missed me so much. Well, it wasn't a realistic thought, but it did pop into my head! In any case, I came upstairs to our ground-level suite, unlocked the door only half cautiously, and stopped in my tracks.
There were a couple of stray items that had spilled onto the floor from a countertop, several meters into our apartment. Nothing major, a business card or two, but it was out of sorts nonetheless.
As I glanced upwards, I could see that the curtains of our patio sliding door were moving ever so gently in the breeze. My heart stopped and I felt panic start to rise.
SHIT. I immediately realized that someone had broken into our home. I turned quickly on my heels and closed the door behind me, afraid to fully enter the apartment, in the unlikely case they were still there. (Me versus intruder? I didn't think that would end well.) I hurried upstairs to see my neighbour, whom I informed, "I'm pretty sure our apartment has been broken into and I'm trying not to freak out but Chris is away and what if they're still there and I'm afraid to go in by myself and we should probably call the police but let's go see what's what first." So she grabbed a golf club and back downstairs we went. Her first.
It was a tidy break-in, with minimal vandalism, and I quickly surveyed my surroundings and observed was what missing: my laptop. reading glasses. my entire jewellery box. and a pillowcase. A pillowcase?? Presumably to stash their new-found goodies.
And I'll skip ahead, through the teary phone calls to Germany, my mom, my best friend. Past the realization that I now had two weeks in this apartment alone, with the (mostly irrational) fear that the next time they'd come when I was sleeping. Past the sick feeling that my home had been violated, that someone had touched my bed. Gone through my drawers. Maybe even watched me as I left that night. Through the realization that my computer had old photos, of me and my friends, private notes...possibly contained confidential bank information, and social insurance numbers.
It sucked. I won't say it didn't. But I will tell you this:
Stuff is just stuff. Yes, even old photographs, and my grandmother's diamond earrings, and the necklace I was given when I was christened. It's just stuff.
Don't get me wrong, like everyone else, I sometimes cling to the sentimentality of a particular object, and the love or meaning it represents. There are particular belongings that I have, that I truly do adore, and appreciate, and cherish. But when it comes down to what we can do and live without, stuff doesn't really matter. I was safe. My loved ones were safe. The stuff was just stuff.
Most people are good. I wasn't going to let one or two "bad eggs" effect my outlook on life, or ruin my week. Okay, it wasn't the best week I've had. But this experience also showed me the kindness of others, from the support and helping hands I got from neighbors to ensure my place was properly secured, to my friends, who welcomed me into their own homes if I needed a safe place.
And I don't even believe that the person or people who broke into my home are inherently bad, but truthfully, feel a bit sorry to know what sort of path they must have traveled to end up doing things like this.
Tenants insurance saved my ass. Until only a few months before our apartment break-in, I had always dismissed apartment insurance as something I didn't really need, because insurance is for what-ifs, or people who own their own home, or who have really expensive stuff. But let me tell you friend, if you don't have insurance, get your ass to a broker's office, stat, because if your home is vandalized, or floods, or everything burns in a fire - you're kinda screwed. Fortunately I had recently decided that yes, of course we should have insurance, and thank god I did.
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What does this all have to do with Keltie Leanne Designs? Well friends, the realization that this gal didn't have any more sparkly accessories to adorn herself with led to a predicament: I was missing my lovely jewellery but also torn, because one doesn't build a collection of accessories they adore over night. And I can't remember quite how the idea hit, but as I perused shops filled with pretty little things, it started to dawn on me that maybe, I could try my hand at making some pieces myself. I'd been reading a lot about inspiring female entrepreneurs, a number of whom were designers, and it just sort of clicked: I want that to be me.
Two months after our home break-in I designed my first pair of earrings, and less than two months after that I had created my first collection and secured my first store.
I got a fire going inside of me, and turned the lemons that life had handed me into some delicious lemonade.
Maybe it's just a matter of perspective, but I truly see this break-ins as one of the best things to happen to me. It led me to fulfill the long-time dream of having my own business, and explore the creativity inside me that had long been untapped.
I'd love to hear from you in the comments below - is there something wonderful you've experienced in your own life, because you turned lemons into lemonade?
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