After my last post it’s difficult for me to remember my train of thought.

I spend many days writing on a particular post….some posts require many days and many glasses of wine and many sleeps to help me recover and then reconnoiter prior to posting…

It’s truly exhausting and taxing for me delve back into a past I spent years burying. So please understand if I backtrack or forwardtrack or just go-the-eff-off-the-track….

it’s bound to happen, once or twice, here or there….(welcome to the labyrinth of my mind and the maze of my emotions…) but I’m not the only one.

And THREE. there’s nothing wrong with me. There was only wrong done to me.

Now here we stand, staring at two images of guns. Two separate types of weapons. YES, I KNOW….the first image is more reminiscent of a 1911 style handgun which is not a .38 as the mini quotes state. Details, schmetails….

Sometimes a painting isn’t about infallible accuracy but rather representation…

I feel strong and capable when wielding a 1911 .45….I am accurate and I am deadly. I have trained with such a weapon, as well as others. And I depicted such a weapon in the initial image because I wanted to express the powerful feeling I felt when I was finally able to grab ahold of the lone gun in the room. This image shows the strength of my fingers and my resolve the moment I knew that I could make the monster in the room cease to exist….

And I knew that vengeance belongs to the LORD yet I also knew at the time that the LORD helps those who help themselves.

So I felt justified. I felt vindicated. I felt sure and confident when I pulled the trigger.

I. Pulled. The. Trigger.

(Have you ever fired a gun? Are you familiar with its kick? Are you friends with the initial jump and pop and sweet stench of an expended load? I am. I have felt and enjoyed such things within myself and body and psyche for more years than I can count and I know that they are ONE within me. I don’t fear them. I embrace them. I understand the power within the powder; I have witnessed the power within the powder and lead. I have never been let down or disappointed after a trigger pull.)

I. Pulled. The. Trigger.

I pulled the trigger on another being. Not an animal. Not a target. But on a sentient being, another person.

I pulled the trigger and expected a familiar response with death being my final intention. The only intention, as that’s how I was trained. Only aim and only pull the tigger upon something you’re willing to destroy. I intended to be Vengeance. I intended to repay certain deeds with the kick of my gun in my own hand. And I wanted it. I hoped for it.

The other half of the image displays what happened. And how I felt.

NOTHING HAPPENED. AND I FELT EVERYTHING.

And the monster scampered away.

Although I’m sure it shit its pants while staring down a barrel and then hearing a deafening click. At least I hope it did.

There was certainly no further testing of my initial demonstration of might. No further useless clicking of an unloaded pistol was necessary as the worthless creature of nightmares escaped into the night….yet I mercilessly continued to work that little clicky finger button well into the morning light, whilst remaining in a corner that hugged three of my sides.

A gun in hand can make one feel like a god.

An unloaded gun can make one feel like a fool.

For so long I carried around an anger focused on that unloaded weapon.

I was angry that it didn’t work as advertised.

I was angry that it didn’t enact a vengeance I craved.

And then I felt guilty for craving a life as recompense. I felt shame for desiring someone’s death.

But mostly I was angry because I craved a death not delivered by a promised self-defense weapon that failed me in the one moment of truth where I could have reigned victorious over a predator heretofore unworthy of my terror.

One may only imagine the struggle I found within myself in the days following.

Yes, vengeance belongs to the Lord.

But I wanted to be Vengeance. I wanted to become Her. I wanted to claim for myself what belonged to someone else. I was singularly focused on what had been stolen from me.

Stolen security.

Stolen safety.

Stolen innocence.

FOUR: There’s nothing wrong with me.

(i’m simply craving an end that cannot be and angry for it, blaming those not present and not culpable)

Vengeance is the Lord’s work yet I wanted to do it first.

Stolen vengeance.

Stolen vindication.