Originally posted Raw Armor’s blog on May 31, 2019.

Thanks to the limited-but-valuable influence of my Grandma, as well as the unfortunate circumstances of my younger years, I grew up to be a strong, capable, independent woman.

It’s not that I’m glad that I’ve had an uncommon amount of shit sandwiches served to me over the years, but, I am grateful that, come what may, I was created to be the type of human who could figure out a way to keep pressing forward, even when everything in life feels like it’s trying its level best to push me down…

I’ll be honest, though, whether I have the fortitude to push forward through stuff like this or not, I’m not a fan of the fact that I’m always having to.

Words cannot describe the rollercoaster of bullshit, shenanigans, and fuckery that my life has been subjected to lately, and the part that trips me out is that I literally ONLY work, sleep, repeat. I don’t do drama, don’t break the law, don’t do drugs, and just try to keep my ducks in a row. But this is just nonsense.

There’s a HUGE difference between shaping your identity around being a strong woman (one who doesn’t apologize for having an individual personality, interests and opinions, and isn’t afraid to use them when the situation is appropriate and it’s not infringing on what’s morally or legally right/wrong) as opposed to a strong woman who’s strength has been increased due to the excessive tearing and repairing of the emotional muscles required to exist in a world that seems to constantly be seeking to chew her up and spit her out, regardless of how correctly she seeks to exist within that world.

There are times when people tell me ‘oh, you are so strong’ and I know they intend to be complimentary and encouraging to me, but, I can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness when I hear it, as I reflect on the multitude of misadventures and wrong turns that ultimately led me to the place where this kind of strength is the kind that, not only do I have, but also depend upon for my sole survival.

I don’t WANT to be a damsel in distress. That’s just not my style. BUT I really wish that I had a life where I felt safe.

I wish I had someone who traveled this life at my side, so that I may possibly be less likely to always pop up on the radar of every moron with ill intentions with which I cross paths.

I’ve had enough.

Something happened to me tonight. On a scale of 1-OMGWTF, the incident in question landed at a good, solid 3.5-maaayyybe 4. I did have to call the cops to report it, but not so much because of the severity of the incident (which happens to be the third ‘wtf’ incident to happen in my orbit in the last seven days, and not even close to being as scary and tough to process as the one which currently holds the top OMGWTF slot) but because, damnit, I’m getting pretty sick and damned tired of my personal rights and/or space being violated by other two-bit morons who think they are somehow entitled to hijack my orbit because they took notice of the fact that I existed.

I have grown accustomed to the stares, unexpected and often unwanted conversation, as well as the inappropriate comments.

Might I just take a moment to point out that neither I, nor should any woman, find themselves in a place where they’ve grown accustomed to their personal sense of safety and well-being having been violated because of society’s fundamental lack of home training…

Nonetheless, I’ve become almost desensitized to unwanted invasions, and I try to be graceful with others, understanding that some folks just don’t understand the impropriety and because I don’t want to have innocent people pay for my damage, inflicted by the sins of others in my past.

But…

All I wanted was my coffee…

If I were Linus, my coffee would be my blankie…

This idiot stalks me at the gas station, tries to follow me home, I detour in and out of parking lots, crossing traffic and back-track using multiple evasion techniques, and still, he follows me.

I should point out that by this point, I’d already passed the ‘wait and see’ phase prior to leaving the lot, to see if it was my imagination, or if his leaving the pump and approaching the road and waiting was just a coincidence or if it was intentional for someone else, or for me.

When I left the lot, I turned opposite of my normal route. Took a few test turns through abnormal lots with unusual turns, just to see if I was being overly paranoid, or if there was merit to my spidey senses pinging like a disco ball at a rave...

He took the turns many car lengths behind, but, without fail, stayed behind me.

I would have driven to the police station, but there were too many poorly lit streets with long stoplights between it and where I was, so I diverted in a different direction and called someone who dropped what she was doing and came immediately to meet me at the closest, well-lit and populated location we could mutually reach.

Once we were both there and I began to calm down, I called it in, and we went from there. Our local’s finest showed up and took my statement, gathered all of the information I could provide, and soon, three units were canvassing the area with the description of the offender and his vehicle.

The responding officer was incredibly compassionate and very patient with me, even though I'm sure I seemed like I lunatic at the time. She assured me of the validity of my fear and for having called and made sure to remind me, multiple times, that if I saw this person, or similar suspicious behaviors again, they had no problem checking it out. My rescue and I also received a passive escort home by one unit, so that they could ensure no one was low-key lurking, waiting for me to once again mobilize.

I think it’s time I consider a new blankie…

Of course, if I do, I plan to take all of the appropriate training, and then some, from the highly skilled marksmen I know, as well as go through all safety and legal measures to ensure the process is executed correctly, but I’ve had enough.

Because I’m sick of my personal and moral rights being infringed upon by dumbass motherfuckers who think it’s acceptable to do so, just because they wanna, so I think it’s time to exercise my 2nd amendment rights and let its presence on my hip start speaking for me.

~Rae

Afterthoughts:

NEVER APOLOGIZE TO YOURSELF OR SOMEONE ELSE FOR BEING SUSPICIOUS OF SOMEONE’S (SUSPICIOUS) BEHAVIORS!!!

We, as survivors, have those red flags fly, those silent alarms sound, those warning bells go off FOR A REASON!!!

Now- Don’t get it twisted I’m not saying that it’s okay for you to give yourself permission to walk around in a paranoid stupor for the remainder of your life, because that’s just 1) unreasonable, 2) unfair to you, 3) handing an assailant/potential or past douche-canoe a victory on a silver platter.

BUT

I’ve been told by loved ones as well as people who mean me harm (even recently) that I’m paranoid, that I’m seeing ghosts where there aren’t any, that I’m imagining things, when in actuality, I’ve just been allowing all of the information that would normally be collected by my sixth sense (think your programs running in the background on your computer) to collect and store in my conscious brain (like in an open tab on my desktop) instead of in my subconscious (like in the background on the computer) to be processed in your sleep.

Every human receives information through their sixth sense all day, every day, but most humans send it directly to the background because it’s just too much to toss in to the mix, in addition to what’s already buzzing around in your 5 open tabs you're pulling input on, every moment of the day.

The subconscious typically only lets its ‘extra’ info come out to play when we are sleeping, or when our brains are on standby in some other way. (Mine LOVES to come out and play when I’m sanding wood when I’m in my happy place. It’s pretty great, actually, and so therapeutic, a lot of times).

Nonetheless, what I’m trying to say is to LISTEN when your brain is delivering this information. Approach it rationally and with logic, and take the necessary steps to keep yourself SAFE in the event that the info has merit and you do need to be concerned.

But GIVE IT the respect it deserves, because it’s actual data that your brain has collected and it’s serving it to you for a reason. To alert you to a possible issue that you need to be mindful of, one you may even need to take action with.

Many use the cliche statement ‘trust your instinct’, and I don’t know about y’all, but when I hear that phrase, I mentally (and sometimes ACTUALLY) blow raspberries and think/say ‘what instinct?!’ My ‘instinct’, let alone, trust, flew STRAIGHT out the window the first time I realized I’d found myself in a situation where I’d been violated.

People wanna talk about having trust issues with other people, yeah, sure, I’m action packed with THOSE! But, the trust issues I struggle with the MOST include the lost trust in my own instinct.

But when it comes to personal safety, as a survivor, if you’re like me, your head is on a swivel.

You’re collecting information all the time. Yes, some of it you need and some of it you don’t. Yes, you have to decide, sometimes faster than you’d like, what to discard and what to keep. Yes, this way of living is extremely exhausting...

...but it’s there to help you be safe moving forward, to hopefully find a way to begin living again.

So, pay attention to your surroundings. Be mindful without being obsessive.

Give the information space without allowing it to take over. Occasionally, allow the emotion to exist, without letting it MOVE IN/take up residence.

You have just as much right to feel as safe as the next person. Sometimes taking back your power resides in, yet just might always BEGIN with taking back your thoughts/trusting your brain to do its job...

And that’s my  #rawthoughts on it all...

Published by Raw Armor

I’m a single mom of 4, Lady McGyverBarefoot Carpentress, entrusted with a mission to bring life to the left behind. Surv;vor, Advocate, Wildly Passionate about those and that which I love, like, and or believe in. Die-hard respector of personal rights of others, fierce protector of myself and mine. Pragmatic and sarcastic, a realist who can’t seem to shake the hopelessly optimistic little girl I tend to be at heart. I love with a love that is larger than life, believe with a faith that is more than I’m ever shown, I hope because I refuse to believe that the nonstop display of vile and hateful I’ve been shown thus far is all that is out there for me. And I share the deepest and darkest parts of my soul so that others can know that they are not alone, if they, too, are suffering, and so that the deep and dark parts are brought to light, leaving no place for me to run and hide in ever again.  ~Rae