I learned a valuable lesson today. I will never step foot in another gun range.
I was raised in Kansas. I grew up around guns. I have enjoyed shooting guns.
I don’t enjoy it anymore.
I’ve been “on edge” since my first go-round with abuse. I don’t like people sneaking up on me and touching me. I don’t like people jumping out from places and trying to scare me.
And after being beat up this last time, I really don’t like loud noises. They make me jump. They make my heart race.
I tried to go to the gun range with some co-workers today. I put the ear plugs in. I picked up the weapon.
Someone fired next to me. I jumped.
I fired. I jumped. T
The person next to me fired again. I jumped again.
I laid the weapon down and walked quickly out the door, escaping to the street.
I’m still shaking inside. I want to go home and lay down in my bed, where I still keep a baseball bat at arm’s reach, and sleep and forget how the sound made me feel.
I don’t want to be broken. I don’t want for stupid shit like this to mind-fuck me.
But one thing I’ve learned since going into therapy is that broken can’t be fixed.
Broken can only be mended.