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izzy-b-hands · 4 years

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SHOT A GUN??!? LEE OMG, now you have to tell the story cause i'm curious (same goes to ruined a surprise)

From this post, for reference for anyone seeing this who hasn’t scrolled my blog today lol

The ruined a surprise one was pretty tame, and actually has happened more than once. As a kid, I would be told not to tell my mum or another family member about a surprise being done for them for their birthday. But I always wanted to make folks happy, and that was such good news to give them, my tiny brain would tell me. So inevitably I would roll up to the Birthday Person like a week before their party and be like “wouldn’t it be cool if you had [surprise thing X] at your party? Wouldn’t that be the best?” And they would go “Is that thing going to be at my party?” and I would immediately start giggling and give away the surprise lmao. My family still doesn’t tell me surprise stuff in advance now, and tbh, that’s fair. Though I will say, I have halted my ruining of surprises lol.

Put the gun story under a cut for safety’s sake. TW for mentions of abuse mentions of rape, mentions of death, hunting (idk if it’s a trigger for anyone else, but it is for me, so I’m adding it here), and racism.

The gun story is...more lol. My ex-stepdad was a proper Midwestern racist, sexist, homophobic, redneck asshole who loved guns and the flag more than anything else (aside from himself, naturally) and as a part of trying to “bond” with me before he ended up proposing to my mum (after barely six months of dating! And she said yes! But that’s another tale) he tried to teach me and get me to use all the weapons he loved so much.

Now, the bow and arrow I legit did and do still love. I never get to use it now, but I have a bow and my arrows with their hunting tips, and refuse to get rid of them in case I ever get a chance to go to a range again and shoot some of those foam cubes (my fave targets to use.) However, he was not content for me to just use that, and he really wanted to take me hunting.

Few issues with that:

-At the time, I was a middle schooler campaigning against the wars in the Middle East, using what little platform I had as a kid to protest; namely wearing an actual peace sign necklace to school and challenging other kids to debates about the wars. My government and history teachers did enjoy me for that, though I will never forget the government class where they let me go up against the entire class in debate. In one corner, seventh grade me, against the wars and war in general while still respecting that at least some soldiers are people who want to do good and think they can do it by being recruited but also acknowledging that the military targets minorities of all kinds knowing they can be more vulnerable to wanting to help others, and the military can prey on that to recruit people. In the other corner, the literal rest of my class, who were all too happy to pile on me about things not even related to the debate, even the ones who admitted they were on my side of the debate, but chose to instead use this opportunity to yell at me.

-As a result of the above point and other things, I Did Not and Do Not like guns. Not comfortable around them for many reasons, and since that age have believed in gun control.

-Also a result of the above point, was for peace in general and was not a fan of hunting. As I grew, I learned that there are some cases where hunting is actually needed to cull populations so they don’t overrun areas, but seventh grade me didn’t know that, and just wanted all animals to be allowed to live without people like my then-stepdad hunting them. Tbh, they still should be able to live without my ex-stepdad hunting them, because he should not be allowed weapons of any kind.

So needless to say, I didn’t want to even hold any of his guns, let alone shoot one. I managed to actually avoid that bit until after they got married.

Then, he turned into someone completely different from who he had been when they were dating. The full story of how he was abusive and what we went through for five years isn’t something I’ll put here because this is already long, but all of that does play into why I did not want to go hunting with him (in a field, in the middle of NoDak, just me and him, no one else around for miles and no cellphones? Not cool, putting it mildly) and why I did not want to handle his guns.

Unfortunately for me, my mum insisted I wasn’t trying hard enough to help him adjust to having a child, since he had been a single dude, married only once before for about six months, with no kids. He had nieces and a nephew, but otherwise he wasn’t used to kids. Part of my making ‘a better try’ with him was to go hunting, and let him teach me to shoot.

So, we went out hunting a few times. Pheasant, and deer, and that was alright. I wasn’t thrilled to be out there, and I can still smell how his truck was just saturated in the scent of dead animal and I hated and still hate that scent burned into my memory, but I got through it.

It was in the backyard of our house with his makeshift (read: not all right for guns or bows, really shitty) range that it came to a head, and I got to fire a gun for the first time.

I still question why he gave me a pistol. You don’t really use a pistol to hunt deer, you know? And he could never tell us why he had so many extra pistols, since he did have his one for work as an officer at the Penitentiary, and it seems like that one should be enough. By the time we left him, he had two huge gun safes full of pistols and other guns, including weapons that by law no one should be able to purchase, but no one checks in on the two assholes meeting in the Wal-Mart parking lot who have trunks full of weapons they want to sell without getting in legal trouble.

But I digress. He showed me how to hold it, to make sure I’m always pointing down-range, to only point at something I intend to shoot. To always treat the gun as if it was loaded, even if I was 99% sure it wasn’t. I give him that, because that is decent gun safety, and he could have been really terrible and not taught me that.

Once he had me set up in front of a target, he told me to go for it, to expect the recoil (I was chubby, always have been, but I hadn’t started seriously lifting weights at that time, so my arms were really reedy and physically even that pistol’s recoil flung me back some.)

I shot, and I wanted to drop it and run inside. It was loud, and the smell of gun smoke and ammunition is unpleasant. I felt like I’d betrayed something inside myself in that moment. This was what the troops learned how to do, what people who hurt others knew how to do.

But my mum had been really mad at me for not being better to him (in retrospect and after therapy, I was fine, just being a kid in early puberty. My therapist says my mother should have stood up for me. I’m not in a place to assign blame like that yet, and maybe I won’t ever be.) So, I stayed put, and I shot a few more times.

He noticed I had tears in my eyes, and started to complain about “the peaceful pussy shit getting in the way of me being taught something important” and he told me I needed to stop crying right away. I’ve never been able to do that, and I cry all the damn time; if I’m really angry or sad or happy, my body responds with tears that give me migraines that are hard to turn off once started.

He got more angry, and told me I needed to learn how to do this because if I didn’t, what would I do if someone broke in? Would I let them hurt my mother? Rape her? Kill her? If he wasn’t there (and he often wasn’t, due to his job and his hunting trips) it would be up to me to save her, didn’t I care about knowing how to save her?

I argued that I didn’t think a gun was the answer to that situation, that self defense and what weapons are used during it was too much for me to discuss with him.

He started talking about the black family that had moved in down the street, about the friend I had at school who was Muslim, about how diverse (read: not that diverse, this is the mid-fuckin-west that has a long way to go re: diversity) our state was becoming. About all the things he was ‘so sure’ they and their families would do to us, to me, if given the chance. All incorrect and horribly racist things, but he didn’t care, because he was always right, in his mind. And I wasn’t allowed to call him out and say he was wrong, or at least that was what my mother would tell me.

“You like peace, so learn to help me keep it.”

Instead I told him that it wasn’t right to say those things, that no one was going to try and hurt us like that, and that the notion was ridiculous. Shouting, I told him I was more scared of him and what he might do with his guns than what anyone else would do to me.

He went very quiet, took the pistol from me (that I was still pointing at the ground, like he showed me) and told me to go to my room.

He stayed out the rest of the night shooting his various guns, only coming in to switch weapons or get more ammo, refusing to come in for dinner until I had finished mine and was away from the table. He didn’t speak to me for the next week, and as scared as I was of him, it was some small relief that he at least wasn’t yelling at me or asking me things that made me uncomfortable.

In a weird way, I’m glad I’ve shot one before. When I’m debating with people in my area about gun control and other issues, they instantly respect you more if you can say you’ve shot before. Otherwise, they talk over you and don’t want to listen to anything, no matter how nice or calm you say it.

At the same time, I recoil any time I hear anything like gunshots, and I can’t ever imagine using a gun again. Even if I was told I must, I don’t think I could. I’ll hold my bow and arrow, keep the bat I keep in my room at all times to ease my paranoia, but I can’t ever imagine holding a gun again.

#text post #ask box things #my bad that the second story is so long #but I haven't told anyone the whole story aside from my therapist #and this was cathartic #and probably explains some of my paranoia and PTSD to y'all as well lmao #bens-jawline

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balarsen22 · 7 years

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Therapy 5/2

We started off talking about the weekend, and how roller derby went. I had just found out that the rankings went from 207 to 130 because of how well we did, so I was pretty happy about that. I talked about how I was really feeling the pressure, that if I didn't play well Hurt would replace me and I’d be benched. I was trying to force myself to have fun. She asked about my mood over the weekend, and when I said ups and downs she asked if there were actually any ups (because usually I say that and then take it back and say more like flat and downs). There were one or two ups, but I did have a couple of bad downs too. I admitted that I didn't make the calorie goal on Saturday night, and told her about the after party. She asked more about who was there who knows how much I struggle with that situation (megan, emily, and maybe shannon?), but I ended up leaving because I couldn't stop shaking and people from the team noticed. She got stuck for a little bit about me taking that much Xanax. She said that this week we’d let that I didn't hit my calories that night slide because I was completely stoned and overdosing on xanax. I commented that its no where near the dose I would need to overdose- I’ve calculated it, so I know. Apparently she was just joking about the overdose part... She asked more about how much I use xanax, which I try not to. I’ve had to use it more lately though. She told me I can't be taking that much, a She asked more about what goes through my head when I’m panicking, and I struggled to find the words to explain it. Eventually I came up with that if there was a thought bubble over my head, it would just be filled with exclamation points. I just really struggle with crowded and loud situations. She seemed to have a lightbulb go on in her brain, and asked me about if there was any tastes, or textures, or smells that set me off while she grabbed her laptop. It’s so hard for me to come up with a list of that stuff off the top of my head, but the smell of alcohol and the smell of cardboard set me off too, and being touched by people I don't know or if I’m not ready for it. Then she asked me a bunch of questions from whatever survey she had to confirm her idea, of which I ended up answering true to most of them. It included statements like “I am very sensitive to caffeine” and “other people’s mood affects me” and “I am easily startled” and “when I compete or am observed while performing a task I become so nervous that I do much worse than I would otherwise,” and a whole bunch of other statements I never really thought would be related. And then she told me I am a highly sensitive person. She seemed really excited to have figured it out. She explained that its when a person has hypersensitivity to external stimuli, a greater depth of cognitive processing, and high emotional reactivity. That there’s no treatment for it, but being aware of it can help. She disclosed that she has it as well- she struggles with textures, and bright lights, loud music or the windows down in the car, and similar things like that. As she talked, it all seemed to click for me. How much I have always struggled with noises especially, but also how I can get overwhelmed, and how other people’s mood affects me. She said it often gets overlooked as someone just being an introvert, as its rare that an extrovert has the trait (but she's one of the rarities). I started thinking back to TK, and how much everything affected me there- the dining hall, the fans, the fact that I was constantly surrounded by people who were upset or struggling. She said that it gets worse when we don't get enough sleep, so it makes sense that it gets worse when I’m sleep deprived. The sensitivity to caffeine being linked surprised me, but it fits. It also explains why I don't do well at bars or parties, and why the xanax didn't help. It can get mistaken for anxiety a lot of the time, or turn into anxiety, but its a different type of trigger. She asked why I even went to the bar in the first place, and I explained that I didn't want to miss out on things. I was frustrated with myself and wanted to make myself do it, and it was a team thing and I would've been the only one that didn't go. I had to at least try. She said she understood, but its probably best for me to avoid those situations. She was so pleased with herself to have figured it out.

She changed the subject back to mood, and said that it was the beginning of May and we had said we were going to re-evaluate what I was going to do this summer at the beginning of May. She asked me to consider where I was and how I’m doing now. I’m still not doing great, but I’m not as bad as I was. She asked me to look at what was different- am I not going as low, is it longer in between, etc. I think I’m still going that low, but I’m not staying at the deepest part for as long as I had been. There’s also more time between the really low points. I also can't tell if thats because I’ve been numb a lot lately though. She asked what I was going to do, and I brought up that today was the one year anniversary of when I was admitted to TK, and that I have been thinking about residential a lot lately. I’ve concluded that I’m either going to get better or I’m not, but I’m not willing to drop everything again for something I don't believe can help. The only thing that would get me to go back would be if I end up in the hospital. She said that I almost did and I didn't go, but I argued that I would've gone if she had told me I had to instead of staying with Megan. I mean, I was in the flipping car on the way to the hospital when she called me back. She assumed that was what I meant, but I was more thinking that if I ended up in the hospital after a failed suicide attempt I would go (I didn't tell her that though). She asked me what I would do if I was hospitalized at the end of summer. As much as I don’t want to, I would take a medical leave and the year off of school, if it came down to it. She seemed satisfied with my answers, and agreed to keep working with EMDR and neurofeedback and to see how I do.

We changed subjects to eating disorder day. She said that she was going to assume that weighing was going to be 0 again, and I argued that I haven’t weighed in a month now and I should be able to. She said that she didn't want my eating disorder freaking out on me right before finals, so she was going to make the decision this week and keep it at 0, but we could revisit the idea next week. She asked me what I go up to, and I said how I’m not exercising as much this week because of taper before the half marathon on sunday, and that my hip and knee and shoulder are still super sore from this weekend, so I shouldn't have to really go up much. She argued that I’m still doing the same amount of exercise, but just squeezing it into one day, and that I need to eat to prep for the half marathon. Which I know I do, but not that much the entire week when I’m being lazy and resting. I commented on that it was so much food and that I feel like I’m just constantly eating all the time, and I’m eating when I’m not hungry, and she told me that if I ate foods with higher calorie content that I wouldn't have to eat so often. Doesn't she realize that those foods aren't safe? She joked that she imagines me eating like 3 apples a day and just constantly eating fruit. I also said that its painful a lot of the time- she asked if I meant emotionally, but I meant physically. My GI is all messed up. She commented that after years of restricting and abusing laxatives and diet pills, its bound to be a little messed up and it will take my body some time to rebound and get back to normal, but that she is sorry I’m in pain. She brought the conversation back to my goal number for the week, and when I couldn't decide she told me to just say the number on the count of 3. She really wanted me to do 1800, but I decided on 1750. She called me a brat (while smiling about it though), but wrote it down.

She asked me if I had re-tested Jake’s kidneys yet, which I havent, but I told her about how worried I had been when she stopped eating last night to go outside. Thankfully she was just full- apparently Megan (roommate) had left a bag on the ground for awhile when I was gone to surgery lab that had a loaf of bread in it, and Jake ate the loaf of bread. She failed to mention it to me until I asked if she had thought Jake seemed normal earlier. I was pretty pissed. Jessica talked about how her lab eats everything too. I learned a lot about her again today- she’s definitely been telling me more about herself lately than she used to. Its nice. We ran out of time, and I brought up that I was surprised she didn't ask me about the therapy homework- I had been stressing and worried about talking about it, and seriously considered cancelling knowing that we would be discussing it. I said she was going to have to end up reading it anyways, because she wasn't going to get me to say it out loud. She joked that now she really wanted to bring it up now that she knows how uncomfortable it makes me, and that she definitely would've made me read it. I retorted that she would've gotten the abbreviated version and not the actual journal entry. She asked if we should do it thursday or just next week, and I said that I’m all for putting it off another week. I left, but realized later that it will probably tie in to what we’re doing in EMDR on thursday, so it will probably come up then. joy.

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