Battle and the Scars It Re-opened

The last time I wrote was May 24th, I believe I was at work writing it and basically just goofing off until it was time to go home. I wasn’t aware that 3 hours after I went home a man would be recorded losing his life while in police custody. This would start international protests for police reform and re-awaken the call for equality.

The protests in Minneapolis became very violent and protesters were seen lighting fires in buildings and destroying property, the city basically took a stance of “let them get it out of their system” which I didn’t agree with but my opinions in this matter are moot.

Months prior I had pulled my rifle plates, loaded extra magazines for my rifle and handguns, and started sleeping with my Ar-15 hidden under a body pillow in our bedroom, in case people started looting if food stuffs and other items became scarce, I wa snot anticipating what their need would be ultimately for.

Thursday of that week the protests arrived in Saint Paul 2 blocks from my home, fires were being lit, rubber bullets and tear gas were being deployed and the sounds of helicopters and explosions lasted throughout the day and into the night. I left work at the gun counter at 2 that afternoon when i learned people were rioting in neighborhoods and went home and fortified my home, I made sure to lock the garage doors, added extra food, and heavily sedated our eldest dog.

For the first time in over 20 years I put on my armor, my knee pads, slash proof gloves, and slung my rifle with the very real thought I might have to use it to defend my wife and child. I knew we were not going to be able to escape unless we wanted to run over protesters and I was not willing to do that. I sent Mrs ZM and little ZM (taller than me BTW) to bed and I sat the watch until after midnight when the police finally managed to settle things down. I can remember sitting in a chair in the backyard with a doped out mutt, and our other two dogs listening to the sounds of silence for the first time in hours, the dogs I’m sure felt my tension because the little one laid next to me, her neck ruff visible, while the middle dog (Shepherd/Collie) kept making lazy circles around the perimeter of our yard, I think something deep inside said he should be waiting for wolves to come, as much as he is a gentle soul I suspect had the wolves come he would have brought out the sheepdog in his dna. The old dog for his contribution sat next to me with his head on my lap as if to say “Human, I don’t know what monsters you stand ready to fight, but i will fight them with you”

Afterwards and for the months after I have been on serious edge, I sit at work in our temporary offices far from the epicenter of the protests and behind a high fence topped with barb-wire and electronic gates, 60 feet away sits my truck with my handgun, 4 magazines, and my get home bag which has the items I would need get back to my home some 18 miles away. I spend much of my day watching the traffic cameras near my home and Mrs.ZM’s office, and I am not sleeping well because every firework that launches, every siren, every sound of arguing neighbors pulls me back to that Thursday night when my city burned.

June and July are always hard on me, they represent when my life fell apart in 2016, I was robbed of my identity and I have been falling ever since, these events just made it worse, I realized I was not physically capable to defending my family, oh I could shoot it out with folks, and likely win, but if the time to run came about I would only slow my loved ones down.

I have felt like this for awhile, up until today when i was wandering around our admittedly much bigger space for dispatching i decided to stretch my legs a bit, which then transitioned to a short lunge, then I went all the way down, and for added fun I did a boars thrust with my imaginary rapier, driving it up where my invisible opponents left hip and pelvis would be, a wound that would be likely fatal to my enemy, i added a high dagger parry to protect my head, and I could hear my old fight instructor yelling at me in my head “damn it, dont over extend (but it felt soooo good) but im glad you kept from rolling your left foot, so maybe I’m not all that out of the game, just sidelined a bit while i get my shit squared away.

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