About 2 years ago, I was shopping in the local Best Buy store. Alone. It was mid day. I was followed around the store by 3 men. I noticed them almost immediately and proceeded to go to different areas of the store to see if they were indeed following me. And once I had confirmed that the 3 men were following me, I confronted them…with my mace in hand…inside the store filled with employees. They sneered at me and then walked away. I found a store manager and asked for an escort out of the store. The store thankfully complied and I made it safely back to my Jeep but I was terrified at what had just happened. On the way home, I called my husband, while hysterical and told him that I wanted to start carrying a gun.
That decision had been on our agenda for a couple years prior to that but never pursued for a pile of reasons. THAT day though, I had made my solid decision that I never wanted to feel like a victim again.
I had zero intentions of waving around a gun like a lunatic, but I knew that if that situation ever came up again in my life, I would do everything the same exact way…only I don’t think I would feel like a victim when I reached my vehicle safely. I would have felt like had that situation escalated, I would stand a chance of NOT being a victim…and of saving my own life.
I am not writing this blog post to plege my allegiance to the NRA. Actually, my only intention is to maybe break some of the stigma currently surrounding gun owners. I have been noticing how many of my circles are posting gun control memes on social media…and not ONE of my gun owning circle is posting any kind of rationale to support responsible gun ownership. I am hoping by sharing MY story, as a woman, that I just may help someone out there to know that not every gun is bad…nor is every gun owner.
My hub and I spent the next 12 months researching firearms as well as attending courses to obtain our Concealed Carry Permits. It took me another 8 months before I found a firearm that I felt I could learn to use and to carry effectively. Let that sink in. I did not run out and buy a gun and toss it in my purse in the name of fear with hopes of my own safety. I put a lot of hours of research into making an informed decision. I went to classes and training. (Mind you, I am a trained martial artist and am no rookie to self defense.) I spoke to countless people who I considered to be professionals regarding firearms and then formed what I considered to be an educated decision…BEFORE I bought my first gun.
Today, my hub and I spent another day at the local gun range with our firearms. We shoot these guns regularly and feel pretty proficient in using them safely. We have worked with local firearms instructors WEEKLY to assure that we are adequately trained to manage our firearms in the safest mannor possible and we are legally certified to carry our guns on our person in all locations allowed by law.
We do not take gun ownership lightly. If anyone does, they probably should not own firearms.
There are ways to responsibly own guns in this country. There are ways to legally and safely carry those guns in public places in effort to protect ones life and the lives of others. I do not believe that we need to take guns away from those of us who take the responsibility seriously in order to be safer as citizens. I also don’t have all of the answers to our current issues that we are facing.
Today, I just wanted to let you know that there are some of us who do things in a responsible way. There are some of us who train and make educated and rational decisions regarding firearms. Not all guns are bad. Not all gun owners are crazy. Please remember this as you scroll past my most recent photos of my hub and I at the gun range using our firearms. I am not putting these photos up to offend anyone, or to put it in anyones face, I am simply trying to end a stigma and maybe help people to open their minds a little bit.
Please consider that I could easily be YOUR mom…or wife…or sister who was being profiled by 3 men while she was out shopping as a potential vicitm of their crimes….and maybe…just maybe….a firearm could have been the key to keeping that crime from happening.
I am apparently a rebel. I despise labels. Hate them. Except MILF…that one is good I suppose. The rest can suck it though. Why in the hell do we need them? I just don’t get it.
WTF is up with everyone needing a label for their dog breed??? Why can’t we just be happy with the term “mutt” or mixed breed? I am sorry Karen, telling people that Smoogles is a Pomski doesn’t make you fancy…it makes you an attention seeker…who probably paid waaayyy tooo much money to buy your mutt.
Vegan? Vegetarian? Pescatarian? Ovotarian? BLAH! I have hated this pile since I first stepped into the world of nutrition. What the hell is wrong with just eating what makes you feel your best and THAT being enough for people? You don’t need to explain your diet to the waiter at TGI Fridays. Honest. If you want to eat a salad, eat a damn salad. You should not have to justify or explain your food choices to anyone.
Don’t even get me started on my thoughts of race and nationality. WE. ARE. HUMAN. PERIOD. Unless someone asks you specifically where your family hails from, the specifics should not matter.
I heard a girl not too long ago telling someone that she was a Buddistian. Apparently her label for her Christian/Buddist ways. What the holy hell Yoda?
Why are we a society that needs a place to put our crap? That is all that this is. A way to fit our choices into a space in our world. Everyone claims to want to stand out. To be unique yet we are pigeon holing our lives by slapping labels on everything. If you want to truly be unique, embrace the fact that you aren’t able to label your life easily. Stand out by truly making your own choices and letting go of the need to FIT anywhere within societal boxes.
Please and Thank You.
At some point during the last week, I realized that hub and I are about to step toward what I once considered my lottery dream. You know, those things that you dream of but don’t really feel are reachable without some divine intervention of some sort. Yep. I am about to take a giant step toward making mine a reality.
I am a fairly simple person to please on most days. My lotto dream consisted of enough land that I could spread out and have space to BREATHE in my own back yard. A place where I could feel free to pursue terrible gardening, let my pups run without leashes, and could play whatever music I cared to hear from speakers while I was soaking up some sunshine. My lotto dream had me planted on 20 – 100 acres. Fenced. On a compound of sorts with my kiddos, my poppy and the rest of the family that we loved sharing this space filled with nothing but joy on our minds. I wanted critters and a fucking greenhouse. A decent sized pool and a formal outdoor kitchen. Oh…and to be secure enough that my hub wouldn’t have to leave every day to go to work. I don’t need extravagance. I simply wanted happiness. Nothing more really.
In the next few weeks, we are taking the plunge to purchase land. OUR land. It’s not quite big enough for my entire dream compound, but it IS big enough to plant us closer to the people we love and do some of the crazy shit that I have been dreaming about. Greenhouse plans are in the making. A Disc golf course of sorts – ON our property. A pool. My pops will be behind our fence as well so I can maybe worry a bit less about him and my sis will definately be closer. This isn’t a “doing it tomorrow” space but…we do now have an active exit strategy to leave South Florida…and it’s within our grasp.
My lottery dream is becomming a reality without the winning ticket. It’s surreal for me. Each night, I look at my husband and am so thankful for him choosing to be my partner in life. I am grateful for him fueling my passions – and for making our dreams come true. I am scared shitless on the same levels that I am excited.
Now, we need a name for the farm…and my fainting goats.