More Than Self Defense

In a lot of ways I have always been self sufficient and independent.  I pretty much raised myself and had to figure out a lot of things about life way too early. My parents, God bless them, really didn't know how to be parents, so I didn't have much of a childhood.  My husband says I was born 30.  I was a very serious, practical gal that thought way too much about everything.

That is, until I met my man.

My husband kind of fine tuned me.  I am me only more so.  He taught me how to laugh and be silly and read fiction.  I only read biographies and news stories until I met my husband. He convinced me that it was ok to relax and read without a purpose.  I didn't have to learn anything or grow, I could simply escape.  He taught me that I could buy things without a need.  If I wanted a new shirt, I could buy it, even if the threads were not hanging off the one I already had.  I have always had a good sense of humor and laughter has been great medicine, but never so often or so hard as when I am with him.

He also took care of me.  For the first time in my life, I had someone to lean on.  Someone who took protecting me seriously.  When we first got married, I fought against his protective instincts.  He would offer to take the grocery bags from me, but I refused to let him.  This is not a post on psychoanalyzing A Girl and Her Gun, so I will just skip all the reasons why I might have resisted and get straight to it, eventually I learned to let him carry the bags and a whole lot more.

The more I let my husband protect me and nurture me, the more I grew.  In the midst of letting go, something strange happened.  Instead of becoming dependent on him and helpless, I became stronger and more confident. More me.

Something similar has happened since I have been carrying my gun.

When I first got my gun, I depended on everyone around to carry me.  To teach me and to protect me.  I turned to everyone to tell me what to do and thankfully they did.  I was still not accustomed to reaching out much beyond my husband and close friends for help, but my fear forced me to go way beyond my comfort zone.

I have never been one to post on the internet or be a busy body.  I don't twitter and I only have about 25 friends on my FB and they are all people I actually know(except for 3 people I met through the gun world, but have yet to meet in person). I am not shy, but I don't just reach out to any one, but when I got my gun, I was so desperate to learn, I reached out to everyone. 

And just like with my husband, I was blessed by the kindness and care of others.

One of the reasons I love my Conceal Carry instructor so much is that, I felt very taken care of in his class.  I felt safe.  I felt cared for.  In feeling safe, I was able to attempt things I would have been too afraid to try before.  In being cared for, I wasn't scared to fail. There was yelling and cussing and violent videos and I was surely pushed beyond what I thought I could do, but I left there empowered and with skills I could actually use.  Before I took the class, I knew I needed to be there, but I wasn't sure I could actually use my gun at all, let alone self defense. After 2 days in that environment,  I left there, knowing that I was worth fighting for and what I learned there gave me the courage to keep fighting my doubts and fears and find a new part of me.

Each day that I carry, I get a little bit more confident and that confidence gives me more strength then I had the day before.  That strength gives me the power to be me only more so.

Carrying my gun has forced me to be even more patient and more kind.  I am so conscious of the power on my hip, that I let all kinds of things go, that I never would have let go before.

I now know that I can take care of myself. I don't have to let the guy at the gym, who stood in the parking lot yelling at me, know that I think he is a meanie pants.  Truth be told, I probably would not have let him know that he was a meanie pants before I had my gun either, but I would have come home and ranted and raved about it to my husband.  Now, I giggle and let it go.  He doesn't bother me because I am not afraid of him.  I walk away because he is not worth the effort, instead of because I am running.

I try things I never would have tried before, like inviting my Glock guy for dinner or posting a question on the Facebook page of a very popular (and knowledgeable) gun lady.  I am taking a Fight Like A Girl class where I am kicking and punching and sparring and while I don't think anyone is afraid to get there butt kicked by me, my trainer says my punches are getting harder and I know my butt is getting tighter.  I started a blog where I expose all my fears and faults to people I don't even know.  In sharing with people about my journey to owning a gun, I am learning so much about who I am.

In being nurtured, I have found an inner strength to let myself be more aggressive and tougher.  In being more aggressive and tougher, I have an inner calm and confidence.

I still absolutely love when my husband takes the bag of groceries from my hand, or opens my car door, or tells my children, when they talk back to me, "You will not speak to my wife that way." I know that I am safer when he is standing next to me.

But, I know that if I have to carry the groceries or open my own car door or set my children straight, I can. And if I have to stand by myself, I can and I will. Of course, I will be doing it with a Glock 27 under my Safari vest.