The day it hit me or why I carry...

It was this time of year so I thought I'd share...

My AHA moment did not come in a rush of violence. My AHA moment came on a cold December morning in 2005. I had dropped my oldest daughter off at preschool. It was the last day of school before Christmas break and it was an early release day for her. That meant instead of getting out at 12:30 I would pick her up at 11:00. Not enough time to go home before I would have to turn around so I decided to kill some time at the Wal-Mart just down the street from her school. It was just my middle daughter and I who was the youngest at the time at 9 months old.

I pulled into the parking lot and started searching for a place to park. Remember, it was Wal-Mart, it was December so it was crowded. The aisles in the parking lot were marked with large white arrows painted on the pavement (actually, this is important). As I was headed toward the store, up an aisle, a full size white pick-up truck was coming down the aisle – the wrong way. I was far enough back that I stopped to let him pass. As he did I shrugged my shoulders and said to myself “What are you doing?” I was referring to the guy in the truck but I wasn’t bitchy, I wasn’t snotty, I wasn’t yelling…I was just wondering. Okay, never mind that guy I thought and I headed up that aisle but there was nowhere to park. I turned and started down the next aisle and lo and behold here he comes again. This time he stopped directly in front of me in my mini-van. I could not go forward and going backward, while it was an option, would have involved some maneuvering and me taking my eyes off of him. I didn’t want to do that. He was very clearly yelling and gesturing at me and not in a very nice way. I was stuck. It was then that I realized he was a nutcase and I could be in some very real trouble. I could not cower; I would not get out of my vehicle either (that would be stupid). I looked directly at him and yelled, “Move! Move! Move!” It felt like forever but I am sure it was just seconds he backed up into a parking spot and I drove past him. I had decided I would not be getting out of my van with this guy around. I drove toward the exit and realized he was following me. Oh shit. What now? Keep moving is all I could think. I could turn left or right out of the exit – my preference was left because that would take me to a main road. I felt that I would have a better chance of getting away from this guy on a main roadway. I couldn’t turn left though because traffic was backed up at the light so I had to turn right down a side street. Okay, keep moving. I knew the area well enough, mostly these side roads led to residential areas, but I knew enough to keep going, turning, to head towards a more populated area. He was still behind me after several turns. I did have my phone in my hand, and I did think about calling 911 briefly, but decided to concentrate on the road. My phone rang. I answered it – it was my mom. I remember saying I can’t talk, I’ll call you back but not telling her why. Within seconds they guy pulled off. I realized that maybe he thought I was on the phone with the police. I also realized that had I called the police they would never had gotten there in time to protect me from harm had he decided to go that route. He was a big guy. He was in a full size truck. Had he struck and disabled my vehicle and then gone after me I could have done very little to stop him. I could not have run away. My baby daughter was strapped in her car seat.

That was the moment.

I realized I was truly the first line of defense to protect my family and myself. My husband had purchased a gun for me for Christmas the year before and I actually already had my CCW but had never made the commitment to carry before this day. My husband already did but had never pushed me one way or the other…it was my decision to make. I wasn’t at all opposed to it but before this I thought I would only “need” to carry if I were going to be in a “bad” part of town. No, I don’t typically frequent those “bad” parts of town so that really didn’t make much sense. I also thought that if my husband were carrying his weapon well, that would be enough to protect me, too. After all, did we both really need to carry at the same time? I’ve since modified my thinking on those matters. As for the “bad” part of town? Well, that can be anywhere, anytime, anyone. Some may think of that as a paranoid statement but I don’t see it that way. Home invasions don’t just happen in the bad parts of town. Meth labs or known drug houses aren’t only in the bad parts of town. People don’t just get robbed, raped or killed in the bad parts of town. Sometimes the bad people venture out past that invisible line the good folks like to imagine is there. When they do, it’s usually not a social call. As for my husband being my protector? He’s a great shot. He’s had a lot more training than I have so far. He’s also not always with me and why should the responsibility fall only on him? We were given charge of our children – We – both of us have a duty to protect them. We have a duty to protect ourselves so we can be around to provide for them. I’ve carried my weapon everyday since. Either on my person or in a carry purse when I was pregnant and couldn’t make a belt and holster work with maternity pants. It is not a cure all. It will not magically protect me and mine, leaping from my holster and miraculously making well-placed shots to stop an attacker. My responsibility begins with being very aware of my surroundings. Being responsible in my actions, and listening to my gut or that small voice that says “hey something isn’t quite right here”. My weapon is a tool, there to perform a specific function should I need it. I am the first line of defense.