Someone Doesn't Like Me

I got my first anti-gun email this morning.  Well, it was more of an anti-me then anti-gun email, but my affection for guns and more accurately gun people,  was the catalyst for the hate.

Oh, how I wish this person would have posted on the blog, but even people who support me tend to send me emails instead of posting, so whatcha gonna do.

Anyway, the email was full of your standard guns kill and they are dangerous and you are contributing to the death of millions of innocent people and the destruction of the entire planet, blah, blah, blah.

We have all heard it a million times and we have responded to it, blogged about, shook our fists at it, gotten angry at it, made jokes about it and screamed from the roof tops, "from my cold dead hands" so many times that I don't think one more post on the subject is needed from me.

However, the end of the email wrapped up by saying that I seem to desperately need the approval of others and appear to be seeking out the gun community in order to satisfy those needs and it is sickening to read my admiration of those who make their living from teaching others to kill like my nauseating comments about Lima, my Conceal Carry instructor and The Cornered Cat. It was suggested that I get therapy instead of a gun.

Let me be 100% clear here, I do not and have not sought the approval of anyone.  I will admit that I have tended to be a pleas-er and that until recently I have never gone against the grain.  I have never really done anything to buck the system.  I have lacked the courage to stand up for myself, that is true, but it wasn't so much out of a need for approval as it was, out of a desire not to harm.  I never wanted anyone to hurt, even at my own expense.

When I started this blog, I did it at a time when I was extremely vulnerable.  My emotions were raw and if ever there was a time that I might have needed therapy, that would have been it.

I have tried very hard not to overstate what happened to me.  I know that the stories of Nikki Gossler and others are so much worse and I have always been careful not to be disrespectful to what she and others have gone through, but the reality, is for me, that day, what happened,  left me deeply scared.

Regardless of  what other people think or what anyone else has gone through, I was a traumatized.  If you go back and read those beginning post, I think it is fairly obvious that I was not in a good place.

The only thing I knew after I left that parking lot was that I would never ever again stand there helpless with no way to protect my daughter.  I had no idea how I would make that happen, but I knew, for certain, that it would not happen again.

My husband, my 18 year old son and my friend Katy were all there for me.  They listened to me talk about being scared and ashamed. So ashamed that I didn't even tell my friend what had happened for weeks. My husband held me when I cried and stayed up with me night after night when I couldn't sleep. They were my safe heaven and I leaned on them heavily, but they were not always here and I was always scared.

I began searching the web for resources.  I found the Cornered Cat's blog and read every single word again and again.  I printed it out, had my husband read it, had my daughter read it, I talked about it with anyone who would listen.  I ran it over in my mind a thousand times.  It gave me knowledge and a plan.  I was doubting myself and my ability to make decisions.  I didn't know if I was doing the right thing by bringing a gun into our home with children, but reading her words, helped put my mind at ease and it gave me tools and steps to take to make the transition a safe one.

I came across Lima's videos and I watched them over and over and over.  I didn't have even the most basic knowledge of guns, so I was lost much of the time. Her videos are so full of quality, helpful information that just about anyone can learn from them, for me they were invaluable tools. Granted, I had to watch several times to even understand the terminology let alone the skills, but eventually I got it.

I had never heard the word Glock.  I read once that anytime the movies or television show a gun, it is a Glock, so everyone uses the term Glock as a generic term for any kind of gun.  Not me.  I had know idea that it was a gun or even anything associated with guns. The level of my total ignorance of guns would astound you.  I literally started from ground zero.

These women helped give me a sense of power.  I had tools that I could use to change my situation. I didn't have to be helpless and for the first time, in a long time, I felt like I was doing something to help myself be more prepared.

When I first started writing this blog, no one read it, but my husband, my daughter, my fired and one guy named JD.

I have no idea how he found the blog, but he followed me from the beginning.  He never posted or commented, except for one time.  I had written a blog post at a time when my mind was so scattered I could hardly think straight.  I had said something that I shouldn't have said and he told me so.  I removed the post and that was that, but I remember thinking, there are good people out there and it is OK, to trust a little.

It had only been a few weeks since the grocery store parking lot incident when I went to Culpeper for my Conceal Carry class. I had no idea what to expect.  I didn't know this instructor, I had only shot my gun 2 other times and most of the time, I wouldn't even let anyone load it.

Although he never told me at the time, my husband said he was scared for me because I was visibly terrified.  I was visibly paralyzed with fear and he could literally see me fighting not only every day, but every second not to break.

I kept telling him if someone comes after me again, I won't be able to shoot them.  I won't know what to do and he kept telling me, "Yes you will".  "You are stronger than you think and you will know what to do" and he believed that.  He believed that if I ever had to use my gun to defend myself or our children, I would be able to do it.

What he wasn't sure of, is if I would make through the day without losing it completely.

I believe it was obvious to everyone in my conceal carry class that weekend that I  was consciously fighting every second make it through.  I was physically exhausted and I was mentally fragile.

I believe with every fiber of my being that if I were in any other class with any group of students with any other instructor, I would not be where I am today.

I know there are a lot of great instructors out there.  I have met some and read about others.  I have signed up for their classes and I am anxious to learn from them, but on that day in March, what I needed could only be given to me by the man who taught the class.

I did not feel safe and he made me feel safe and cared for. When we were in the classroom and he looked at one of the young girls in the class and told her, she mattered, that her life was worth fighting for, I knew that I could trust him. I was afraid to see the images and I was afraid to shoot my gun, but I believed that he would not let anything happen to me and because of that, I didn't quit when he pushed me and what I needed was to be pushed. 

He saved my life.

These are good people who had a major impact on my life and helped me turn a very negative experience into power and motivation that I could use to make my life better and the least I can do, is to let them know it.

When I write about my honest feelings for these people and the impact they have had on my life, it is not their admiration or approval that I seek.

While I do value what these people think and  I would never want to harm them, when I write about these people or anything else,  I am writing what I believe and what I feel and for the first time I don't give a flying rats behind what anyone thinks.

I don't want to knock therapy because I know people who have gone and it has helped them, but I will say I also know of people that have been going to therapy for years and years and really are not one step closer to being who they want to be.  They are not more at peace with who they are and they still are struggling to find whatever it is they are searching for.  All the therapy in the world hasn't helped them.

It has been nine months since I was mugged.

Nine. In less than a year these people have helped me out of a very dark time in my life.

This blog has very accurately chronicled my journey and with the help of my friends, family, my internal will and "these" gun people, I am no longer a terrified woman unable to function.

I am happy again. I am more secure in my own skin than I have been.

I am stronger, more confident and calmer.

Not to mention, I am well armed and well trained.