Last year, I moved into a new flat in London. It was the first time I’d lived by myself. In the past, I shared a student house with five others, then later with friends. I’d always been fairly messy and if something went missing it was likely it had been borrowed or misplaced. More often than not, it would turn up.

But in my new home, living alone, I was exceptionally tidy; everything had a place. I’d been there for about six months when I couldn’t find a pair of gold hoop earrings I wear almost every day. I’d been to the park the day before, and felt sad that they must have slipped out without me noticing. A day or two later, I noticed a couple of my rings weren’t there. I told my boyfriend that jewellery had gone missing, and he dismissed it, saying perhaps I’d lost them. I figured he was right.

Next it was my work phone – I assumed I’d left it at the office, but it never turned up. I spoke to my parents and explained that things had disappeared, but the flat was immaculately tidy and the TV was still in the living room. They were concerned I was stressed. They said not to worry or I’d drive myself mad.

Within a week or two, I started to feel really unsettled. I became emotional, crying a lot, which is unlike me, and feeling inexplicably angry. I’d told colleagues about the missing items and, once again, was told it was probably nothing. I knew something wasn’t right, but other people’s dismissive reactions made me doubt myself.

Still, I wanted answers. I started to wonder if there was someone in the basement or if it was a poltergeist. I was feeling desperate by this point and scaring myself. I was starting to worry it was all in my head. I have anxiety and had been off medication for more than a year. I knew I couldn’t keep feeling like this – on edge and out of character.

I called the doctor and explained. I was crying down the phone. She was worried about me and suggested I went back on my medication, and take a stronger dose. Very quickly, an appointment was made for me to have an assessment.

That night, as I was watching TV, I noticed something was amiss. I have a nebuliser for a lung condition – I don’t use it often, but it’s on the shelf in the living room if I need it. I noticed that the zip was partially open; I hadn’t touched it for over a year. That’s when I knew someone had been in my home.

The next day, the girls in my office helped me to come up with a plan to leave a cash trap. Then I remembered there was cash in my desk. I called my boyfriend, who had stayed overnight, to check if it was still there. It had gone, as had our designer sunglasses. We realised a lot of things were gone, including an unopened Apple TV that had been in the back of a cupboard.

I called the police and explained to forensics that there was no sign of forced entry; the locks hadn’t been picked, there was no broken glass. The things that had gone were small – no family heirlooms. The police were as sure as they could be that a thief had come through the window. It’s a Victorian house and the wooden window frames are easy to prise open. They said stealth burglaries – where there isn’t visible damage – are fairly common, as there’s less evidence and people don’t raise the alarm for a few days. I still don’t know if it was someone coming in and out, or if it happened only once.

Emotionally, it was confusing, as if I had been gaslit by a burglar. The thought I could be ill was frightening – I did wonder at the start if I was losing it.

Since then, my boyfriend has moved in. We’ve had the windows replaced and the locks changed. We have CCTV as well. But, only six weeks later, we were burgled again – this time, not in a tidy, stealthy way. I came home and the door had been kicked in and the place was ransacked. The police don’t think it was linked, but they said it is common for burglars to return.

I never picked up my prescription. In the time between me calling the doctor and discovering it was a burglary, I’d realised I wasn’t losing my mind. I feel a lot better knowing that, but it still knocked me for six. It was almost better when the door was kicked in.

• As told to Sophie Haydock

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