His Gun
A glimpse into the fear and confusion of domestic violence.
I hid his gun. This gun that appeared out of blue from an acquaintance of my then partner. In the time leading up to the gun, this person who I once believed loved me deeply, had become different. Initially, I shrugged it off as simply the weight of circumstances and the pressures of life. But his moods deepened and I began to feel like a marionette: his moods dictating my movements, my mindset, and my motivations. His moods and actions ignited great fear and anxiety in me.
The gun. His gun. The ammunition. It was all so strange. He had never mentioned any interest in weapons. We were living in a safe area. My mind could stop considering scenarios. What was really going on here? Why in the world would he buy a gun? He said his friend was going through a financial problem so he was selling some personal items. I kept my thoughts inside but they were loud.
SO YOU DECIDED TO BUY HIS GUN?
WHY COULDN”T YOU JUST GIVE HIM SOME MONEY?
I WILL GIVE HIM SOME MONEY!
His gun. We didn’t even discuss it. The gun. It just showed up in our home one day. That is the day that high alert began to reside on top of my worn down, marionette brain. Surely I must have stuffing in my head to have ended up in this situation. That is how it is when you are beat down by emotional abuse and the confusing highs and lows of an unhealthy relationship; you automatically begin to berate and blame yourself. Even when you had no input into the matter at hand.
After the initial shock, I snapped out of the fog of self pity and began hiding his gun. His gun that he had no idea how to operate. His gun of which the story of how it came to be or why it came to be, never quite sat right with me. I would move it around to different spots. He never really noticed but I was terrified everyday. Maybe he did notice. Maybe that was part of some sick and twisted game. I had nightmares about when and how bullets would ring out and take a life. My life. His life. Both of our lives.
I hid his gun in my car sometimes. The times when he was in very low moods and I just didn’t trust his emotional state near a firearm. But then I was paranoid that I might get pulled over in a routine stop and have to account for his gun. What would I even say? The story sounded ridiculous even to me. This went on for the better part of a year. One day a friend mentioned that she wanted to buy her husband a pistol and it was like I had won the lottery.
I sold his gun. We did not discuss it. I did not think twice about getting it out of my house, getting that monkey off of my back. Oh the joy of looking forward to a decent night’s rest and being able to fully function in my day to day life! That gun had consumed so much of my mental capacity. That gun left my life as smoothly as it has entered my life. And I am grateful for my life because I lived to tell the story.
Today I share this in honor of Cerina Fairfax. I am simply heartbroken. She was a beautiful woman, a pillar of her community, an amazing mother, and beloved dentist. She was shot and killed by her husband in their home. Her children were in the home. I pray for her children and her loved ones. And I pray for the many women who are living in some version of this nightmare. I pray each one finds the support and courage to safely exit emotionally unhealthy and violent relationships.
If you are suffering due to domestic violence please reach out safely and confidentially to the National Domestic Violence Hotline.