Regarding the scary incident mentioned in my last post:
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That night, I let my dog out before watching a late movie and let him back in when he was done doing whatever he needed to do. For the record, I never ever leave my dog outside and unattended. I just don’t trust people when it comes to him. So when the movie was over around midnight, I let him outside again. I was unpleasantly surprised to see my back gate wide open. So what? Well, when I had that concrete work done back in June, my contractor wired the gate shut in four different places. While I sat on my couch watching a movie, someone meticulously unwound the wires while crouching behind my garbage can. I’m creeped out enough that someone sat there and took the time to undo all of the braided wires, but the fact that someone was crouched back there for that long is what creeps me out the most. If the wires had been sliced with bolt cutters, it wouldn’t have freaked me out so much because it would have seemed less personal.
I don’t know what the motives were for taking so much time to break into my back yard. I have a chain link fence, so everything in my yard is in plain sight. The only items I actually have in the yard, other than rat droppings, are a grill and a ladder. Both of these items are big and are clearly locked together with a heavy cable, which is obnoxiously wound through the chain links and steel post. Everyone has a grill though, so maybe they wanted the ladder for breaking into houses? I have seen a lot of sliced screens on second floor windows over here. The other motive I had to consider (but didn’t want to) is that maybe they wanted to come into my house. Fortunately, my kitchen window is too high up off of the ground for someone to peek in without a ladder and my back door is a steel door with no window and it is always locked and braced. I’ve been trying not to think too much about this incident because it is very cringe-worthy and takes me back to a bad place. I’ve been telling myself that it must have been totally random. After all, I was home at the time, I was awake, and the lights were on. Scary, right? Yeah, I thought so too.
What scares me the most is that I never want to be in a position where I have to defend myself with lethal force in my own home. I have done a lot more than most people do in that I’ve been educated by certified professionals regarding my rights under Maryland’s gun laws as a legal and licensed gun owner. I know what I can and can not do. I’ve been professionally trained and certified in handgun safety and storage. I’ve also been professionally trained and certified in the use of defensive ammunition and defensive shooting tactics in the home. I attained two gun safety certifications that weren’t even required. The whole point of all of this information, education, and practice is that I’ll never have to use any of it unless it’s an absolute last resort. I am, however, adequately prepared to stop any threat that comes forcibly and uninvited into my home. The 911 response time is twenty minutes (on a good night) in this part of Pigtown. I know this because I’ve timed the police every time I’ve called 911. Twenty minutes is a long time to be alone in your home with a perpetrator(s) who may or may not be armed. It’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I can’t and won’t count on the police to come to my rescue.
You may be thinking Lethal force? Isn’t that overdoing it, Anger Hangover?
No.
Ten years ago, I was held up at gunpoint in broad daylight in Baltimore City while walking into my home. It was an attempted armed robbery and I say attempted because I had nothing on me but running attire, a key, and a cheap plastic watch I used for timing my runs. When that man grabbed me and pushed me into my vestibule, he quickly realized I was concealing nothing of value and it made him furious. He stuck the gun in my armpit and threatened to kill me because he said could and suggested maybe he should. Each second I had that gun pressed to the side of my chest felt like hours. I can’t explain the things that flashed through my mind or the fear I experienced in those moments, but I was strangely calm. I wasn’t sure if I’d live or die in that doorway, but I knew more than anything that I wasn’t ready to die. I had I love yous to say and apologies to make. It was my turn to write a letter back to my grandmother. These things, among many other things, went flashing through my mind. I didn’t want to die. Not there. Not that day. Not like that. I guess you could say my life changed in an instant. It would probably be safe to say I have some residual PTSD from the experience and perhaps seem more vigilant than others when it comes to personal protection.
So when I saw that gate wide open that night and those wires undone, I took me back to the feelings and fear I experienced that one afternoon. There is such a stigma attached to protecting yourself with a firearm, even when it’s in the confines of your own home. But this is my home and my life, not yours or anyone else’s, and my life is the only one worth preserving and protecting here. Call me selfish, but I think keeping my own life safe is a noble enough cause and one worth fighting for, even if it’s not politically correct. If you’ve never felt the fear and helplessness of having a gun pressed to your chest, I would reserve any and all judgment until you’ve experienced the same.
For whatever reason, I am still here and I consider myself to be the luckiest person in the world because I have been able to say those I love yous and make those apologies. And best of all, I was able to write a letter back to my grandmother.
