So you've been burgled...

Moata goes on a mental and emotional journey after a home burglary.

Moata Tamaira

10 Apr 2026 — 4 min read

Possibly a burglar, or maybe just a lad who is serious about avoiding skin cancer.

Last week I came home to find my back door open. Which immediately prompted me to assume that I'd left it that way (because if I weren't second guessing myself and assuming I'd done something wrong who would I even be?) but within the next second I noticed a piece of the door frame sitting on the deck and realised with some relief, that I'd been burgled.

Truly, the perfectionism in me is so strong and I fear fucking up so badly I'm sort of glad when it turns out that I haven't, even if it means things are objectively much worse than if I had. If you're confused by that sentence then just imagine how I feel knowing that it's true and typing it out for other people to read.

And the hits just keep on coming because, among one of my more unhinged reactions to having a strange person violently wrench my door open, wander through my house, and help themselves to a random assortment of objects is this... when I looked around and realised that the general sense of disarray was not due to being ransacked but was simply the result of me not being bothered to pick things for a while - I, firstly, laughed and secondly - and this is the really fucked up bit - worried that the burglar thought I was a pig because there were a bunch of clothes on the floor and a intentionally ignored pile of washing on an armchair.

Look! there's a receipt from the supermarket that fell out of my bag and which I didn't pick up off the floor - what if my burglar tells all the other burglars that I am a mucky pup and someone who obviously does not have their shit together? WHAT THEN?!!

There is definitely something wrong with me. But also there is something wrong with me AND I don't have any battery packs for my gardening appliances because someone - who I am choosing, for my own childish reasons, to call "Bumblefuck McGee" - stole them.

A ginger cat in a makeshift balaklava and a gold chain sits on a bed with a pile of cash while someone throws more bills at them — The burglar after selling my 2/3 full bottle of Chanel Mademoiselle, probably.

More than one person in my acquaintance has commented on what a violation this is and how your home is supposed to be a safe place to be in, and I get that, but... I don't feel violated and since the guy came around to fix the door and an inexplicably bent curtain rail I haven't given my personal safety a moment's thought and is this just another way in which I'm weird or is it just that I grew up in a shitty neighbourhood where sometimes - quelle horreur - crimes would happen and so I don't get too worked up about it? I did have a small cry for about 5-10 minutes initially but that was mostly about the fact that there wasn't anyone immediately available to give me a hug and a "there, there". Once I got that out of my system (and did a quick check to establish that my lingerie drawer hadn't been rummaged in) I was fine and have been ever since.

Based on the random selection of things taken, and more expensive items that were overlooked it's pretty clear that this burglary happened very quickly - probably they were only inside my house for a minute or two - so noone was going through my things in a discerning way, reading my journal, or even probably making judgements about my housekeeping skills (we live in hope!). In short, this was a person who had likely made a series of bad decisions who felt like they needed quick cash and did what they did. It has basically nothing to do with me. This burglary is their drama, not mine. Okay, theirs and my insurance company's.

The next day the sun came out and I complimented an older lady I saw on the street on the fact that her shoes (purple!) matched her jacket (also purple!) and then she pointed out that she was all matching and sure enough her sweater and earrings were also purple. The point I'm clumsily trying to make is that I didn't suddenly feel like all strangers were potentially awful people - my belief in people wasn't shaken, and in fact, everyone has been so sympathetic and nice that it's done the opposite. Upon learning that I'd been burgled no fewer than 3 people have gifted me badges and pins and one of them sent me an absolutely ludicrous number of delightful things including a pin of David Bowie and Prince riding a unicorn together. This is heretofore unknown levels of whimsy and I am, as they say, HERE FOR IT.