Entries in the Pro-War Jingle Contest accepted until Friday, 6pm (EST). Offer void to members of The Vast Left Wing Conspiracy and to members of any terrorist organizations. Judges positions have been filled. (Mikerzz, you're in, I'll email you later)
Father kills son, wounds boy's mother at school
This is a scenario I worry about.
When I first saw the movie Falling Down, a creeping fear settled in my brain and stayed there. That could be him, I thought. That could very well be my ex-husband.
We've had run-ins before, never anything quite so violent as what Michael Douglas or the man in Missouri resorted to, but there were enough incidents - and enough venom present in the incidents - to make me fear what could happen should my ex ever snap. And trust me, he is about one tiny little push away from snapping.
I've wondered how I would protect myself should the situation ever arise. What if he was once again waiting for me at my car, but this time he was more violent, more on the attack? What would I do? Hit him with my purse?
I started carrying mace around with me. I learned how to hold my keys in such a way that they become a weapon. It's not just my fear of the ex, it's my fear of my surroundings. I work in a high crime area. The days are getting shorter and it's near dark when I walk out to the parking lot after work. It makes me nervous.
I want to protect myself. I want more than what mace or car keys can afford me. I want a gun.
This isn't something new. I've always wanted to a gun. When one lives in a high strung state of constant anxiety like I do (or did, pre-Paxil), you fear everything and everyone. You are sure that every shadow is the bogeyman, waiting to get you. And then you grow up and realize that not every shadow is out to get you, but there certainly are people lurking in the corners, waiting to pounce on you or break into your house or assault your children.
I don't feel protected. I feel naked and vulnerable when I am walking through a parking lot alone. I feel like a target when I am driving alone at night and the car starts making a funny noise and I need to pull over. I lay in my bed sometimes and think, what would I do if someone came into the house and tried to kidnap my kids or tied up my husband? What would I do if someone was attempting to mug or rape me?
I would do nothing, of course, because I have nothing to defend myself with. The hockey stick next to my bed will only do so much to ward off an attacker who is filled with rage or fueled by crack.
My brother-in-law would be happy to take me to the range, teach me how to shoot. But would I sleep better at night knowing I had a gun? Would I live in fear that one day the kids would accidently find it? Do I trust myself enough to not gun down the first person that cuts me off on the parkway? Would owning a gun make me feel safer or more nervous?
I just want to know that when my ex-husband goes off the deep end or someone jumps up from behind my car in the parking lot at night, I have the means to keep them at bay. I may never have to shoot the gun, just showing it would be enough, I hope. I want them to look at me and see someone who will not be a victim.
Just something to ponder on a Friday morning.