Going Out on a Limb
I'm sure you all remember the horrific Christmas party mass shooting in southern California in December. That (and the "let's ban all guns now!" stuff that predictably followed right after) had kind of a galvanizing effect on me.
I decided to start down the path to getting a concealed carry permit.
Now, I've always been fairly apathetic about gun control issues, but for the most part as an adult my position has been that tougher gun control does nothing to stop crime, trained people should be able to own guns and carry them with few restrictions, and that I wanted nothing to do with any guns personally. In fact, picking up an unloaded gun used to give me the heebie-jeebies. (Is that a word?)
However, something about that particular massacre broke down my last bits of aversion to carrying my own gun. I refuse to be cowering on the floor, unable to protect my children, if someone decides to make a statement with my life like that. I realize that there are a lot of places where it won't do me any good (last month as I sat in the MVD trying to get a new license I looked at all the gun-free zone signs and thought what a perfect place for a psycho shooter to make a splash), but I want to be as protected as I can be. I want to be able to protect my children.
So.
The first step was getting my own gun. A few weeks back I shuffled into a gun shop for the very first time. It was around lunch time on a weekday in an older strip mall. Most of the businesses were completely devoid of customers. The gun store was booming. I kid you not. Maybe that is their normal flow. I have no way of knowing, but it was chock full of customers and employees, and that shocked me.
Terence had already narrowed down several choices for me before I even timidly ventured into the store. They had me hold each one and try to dry fire it (of course it was unloaded!) and see which one felt best in my hand. Terence asked a bunch of questions, and both the questions and the answers the employee gave sounded like they were in a foreign language. Eventually, I made a choice, feeling fluttery and sick and not exactly excited. Then the store employee brought out my background paperwork, the stuff required by federal law before they can sell me a gun.
The form made me want to giggle. It asked me questions like "Are you a wanted person?" and "Do you have a restraining order against your spouse or partner?" Do people trying to buy guns actually answer yes to those questions???? (I actually asked the employee that, and he told me no, no one has ever admitted to being a wanted criminal when they are trying to buy a gun. He said that things do come up when they run the background check in the database though.)
Anyway, after a wait to clear me through the database and a credit card charge of several hundreds of dollars later, I walked out the door a terrified but determined first time gun owner.
I'm on a program of baby steps here.
Terence gave me my first assignment. I have to carry it around while I am in the house, just so I can get over feeling like I want to pass out when I am holding it. He says I've got to get over being afraid of it, which seems like a pretty good place to start. However, I don't have a holster yet, so that means sticking it in my jeans pocket usually. (I tried my waistband but it just slid down my pants leg. How do people do that in the movies.) I've even stuck it in my bra before which is extra uncomfortable, since my gun isn't exactly tiny. I don't recommend it. But if you are trying to get over your fear of a handgun, it works pretty well.
I'm on to dry-firing now. I've been taught how to load it, though I'm currently still keeping the ammo separate from the gun (young kids, you know). Apparently my grip is problematic because Terence constantly corrects me, but I'll get it down sooner or later. I'm almost ready to go out for some practice rounds. Then I think the plan is for Kristi and I to take a class together.
Here's to learning a new skill and conquering a fear! (And yes, ultimately being able to protect myself and those around me.)
I decided to start down the path to getting a concealed carry permit.
Now, I've always been fairly apathetic about gun control issues, but for the most part as an adult my position has been that tougher gun control does nothing to stop crime, trained people should be able to own guns and carry them with few restrictions, and that I wanted nothing to do with any guns personally. In fact, picking up an unloaded gun used to give me the heebie-jeebies. (Is that a word?)
However, something about that particular massacre broke down my last bits of aversion to carrying my own gun. I refuse to be cowering on the floor, unable to protect my children, if someone decides to make a statement with my life like that. I realize that there are a lot of places where it won't do me any good (last month as I sat in the MVD trying to get a new license I looked at all the gun-free zone signs and thought what a perfect place for a psycho shooter to make a splash), but I want to be as protected as I can be. I want to be able to protect my children.
So.
The first step was getting my own gun. A few weeks back I shuffled into a gun shop for the very first time. It was around lunch time on a weekday in an older strip mall. Most of the businesses were completely devoid of customers. The gun store was booming. I kid you not. Maybe that is their normal flow. I have no way of knowing, but it was chock full of customers and employees, and that shocked me.
Terence had already narrowed down several choices for me before I even timidly ventured into the store. They had me hold each one and try to dry fire it (of course it was unloaded!) and see which one felt best in my hand. Terence asked a bunch of questions, and both the questions and the answers the employee gave sounded like they were in a foreign language. Eventually, I made a choice, feeling fluttery and sick and not exactly excited. Then the store employee brought out my background paperwork, the stuff required by federal law before they can sell me a gun.
The form made me want to giggle. It asked me questions like "Are you a wanted person?" and "Do you have a restraining order against your spouse or partner?" Do people trying to buy guns actually answer yes to those questions???? (I actually asked the employee that, and he told me no, no one has ever admitted to being a wanted criminal when they are trying to buy a gun. He said that things do come up when they run the background check in the database though.)
Anyway, after a wait to clear me through the database and a credit card charge of several hundreds of dollars later, I walked out the door a terrified but determined first time gun owner.
I'm on a program of baby steps here.
Terence gave me my first assignment. I have to carry it around while I am in the house, just so I can get over feeling like I want to pass out when I am holding it. He says I've got to get over being afraid of it, which seems like a pretty good place to start. However, I don't have a holster yet, so that means sticking it in my jeans pocket usually. (I tried my waistband but it just slid down my pants leg. How do people do that in the movies.) I've even stuck it in my bra before which is extra uncomfortable, since my gun isn't exactly tiny. I don't recommend it. But if you are trying to get over your fear of a handgun, it works pretty well.
I'm on to dry-firing now. I've been taught how to load it, though I'm currently still keeping the ammo separate from the gun (young kids, you know). Apparently my grip is problematic because Terence constantly corrects me, but I'll get it down sooner or later. I'm almost ready to go out for some practice rounds. Then I think the plan is for Kristi and I to take a class together.
Here's to learning a new skill and conquering a fear! (And yes, ultimately being able to protect myself and those around me.)
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