March 13, 2013,

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine over having guns in the home.  He's very pro guns with several in his home for the protection of his family.  He's very safe and practices frequently, I on the other hand was raised with guns, my grandfather let me load shot for him in the pool room before dove season every year.  I thought it was like a chemistry set, working this machine waching the bbs and the powder go into the shell and then sealing it.  It was fun.  Later Daddy taught me how to shoot clay pigeons off of the back of the pickup, but the stipulation was whatever we killed we cleaned so I wasn't excited about shooting the actual birds. 

The conversation changed when I revealed that I had owned a remington 12 gauge double barrel shot gun for years, but I had been married to a drug addict who stole money and was very physically violent when he didn't get the money he wanted.  I had served him with restraining orders and called the police many times when he walked through them.  Finally, one day I knew the gun was becoming a liability for me.  I remember being so angry one night that I considered ways of using the gun and getting rid of the body.  But, when I sat and thought it all through I knew that my daughters would be without a mother and that couldn't happen so I sold it. 

People dont understand when a person is taken somewhere in their brain due to a traumatic event, death in the family, war, rage, an accident it's very dark and it's a whole other area that gets added on, like a room addition in your house.  Now it's not a nice room, but it's there.  You may choose to keep the door closed on it all the time, maybe even try to board it up, but it's there.  And if you choose you can go into it whenever you want.  That place in your brain that was created because of whatever thing happened to you in your life, is always there, it may be quiet it may be at peace but if something reminds it of the past or triggers memories from the past, you are suddenly thrust into that room feeling every frustration, anger, depression, fear and torment as though it was happening all over again, as if it had never stopped.  Its like a sleeping giant. 

Professionals will tell you that it is termed post traumatic syndrome and things that trigger it cause those feelings and fears that lay dormant to come alive.  Sometimes it leaks out as a twitch or some other little habit that goes unnoticed by others.  I believe its a room, an extra room in your brain that lays there quietly until something triggers the activity, alerts, sirens and alarms to go off.

The other night me and all my girls were at the house sitting in the back yard.  My oldest recently separated from her husband who is a violent drug addict.  She finally, after years of abuse filed divorce paperwork and on that night we had gotten wind that he was back in town.  Well, when we were notified of the possibility it was amazing to watch all of us to into alert and prepare the house.  Everyone had a job,  my oldest's job was to get on the phone and find out exactly where he was.  It was the youngest and her friend's job to pull in the cars and lock the bikes, lock the gates and get the kids in.  It was mine to double check all the locks on the windows, find the flashlights and the bat (I've always wanted the opportunity to use my bat) and make sure everyone had their phone on them.  Kids in the house kitchen cleaned and on lockdown  we sat on the front porch while mary made calls.  Finally, she got someone to talk to her from the rehabilition center and he was there.  We stood down, but we did find out that he'd be out in a few days. 

Yes we sat on the porch, because the best defense is a damn good solid offense.  Now I know the saying is the best offense is a good defense, but when your in a situation like we have been in several times you learn to get on the offense and quick.  As I was telling my friend he said what do you mean?  I said we had to find him, know where you enemy is exactly, don't wait for him to find you, you go out and find him and do it fast.

As I was sitting with them it was like sitting in the trenches with fighters waiting for the action to start. The night was quiet, there was a slight breeze, everyone was still and I thought what a strange skill my daughers have learned without even taking classes or talking about it we have learned how to band together even a couple of very close friends I call daughters know the drill and work it with us. 

I'm not sure if it's something to be proud of or be sad about. At least I know they can take care of each other.  They always say "ride or die"  Good Lord I need to spend more time prayin.