Checking My Optics

One of the reasons I’m glad I have this blog is because it’s a record of my past. A reminder of both better and worse days, a cautionary tale that both slaps my wrist and reinforces my intuition during the times when I doubt myself. Whether it’s, “You saw it coming and ignored it, and now look what happened. You need to listen to yourself more often.” Or perhaps, “You knew this would happen and yup- you were right. It’s good thing you trusted your gut.”

I looked back at the post I wrote right after my first conference with my shooting group in 2023 (going forward, we’ll refer to them at ‘Babes with Bullets, or BWB). I’ve since attended one additional conference this year and am signed up for 2025 (we’ll see if The Bird kicks me out before that).

I remember being so excited after that first experience- it was so eye opening and empowering. I loved it. I vowed that I would one thing every year that intimidated or frightened me and I have stuck to that ethos thus far. in 2024, I attended the BWB Gun Games which is a 3-Gun competition. I’ve never shot 3-Gun before, so that was definitely a new one for me. I was scared, but I did it. I made an ass of myself, both in regard to my shooting and as it pertained to the Marlboro Man (see previous post).

I also made a total ass of myself in front of the instructor I mentioned in the post from Conference #1. Remember him? The former military dude? Yeah. I word-vomited all over him- some nonsense about pheromones and…I don’t even know what else. Just the dumbest shit ever. Dumb enough that he went to The Bird (who is the Big Kahuna in charge of BWB) and actually said something to her about it. She told me about it while she was slapping my wrist for my behavior during Gun Games.

That’s right, Wise Reader. Yours truly fell off the rails in a MAJOR way. I wasn’t kidding when I said that I made an ass of myself. Without going into too much detail, let’s just say that my language was called into question, as was my choice of costume for the pistol match. I dressed as Jasmine (my partner was Ariel, but she was dressed more modestly). My costume wasn’t revealing- my midriff showed a bit, nothing low cut, but I guess it raised some eyebrows.

Now, let me just say that I have always prided myself on my ability to moderate my behavior to fit any given situation. Hubby is an executive- I occasionally need to hose myself down and play nice and I feel that I’ve managed to pull it off pretty well. His bosses have said on many occasions that (and I quote), “The best thing he ever did was to marry me.” I’m a business owner- I deal with the public all the time. I may swear like a sailor behind closed doors, but you put a microphone in front of me, or a customer across the counter and I become elegance personified, But it suddenly seemed that I lost myself for a bit, and I couldn’t figure out where I went.

It couldn’t have just been the Marlboro Man situation- I’m 52 years old. After everything I’ve been through with THAT GUY, no 40-year old skinny chicken can thrown me THAT far off my game. I have wine in my cellar that’s older than he is, and twice as mature (but perhaps not as tasty).

So…what then?

After a deep breath, some introspection, and a serious talking-to with Blondie, I figured it out.

About a month before Marlboro Man came to the lake, I met with my neurologist only to find out that while my infusions were working to prevent my MS from progressing, it was also suppressing my immune system to an almost dangerous level. This meant that I needed to lower my prescription (thereby lowering its efficacy), and I would need intravenous immunoglobulin to boost my immune system. Devastating news? Not necessarily, but disappointing for sure. I also noticed that my motor function was decreasing and that the burning sensation in my hands had been getting worse, which made working at the shop increasingly hard. Put all of these together and it makes for one unstable lady.

While competing at the Gun Games, I had what can only be called a major malfunction with my motor skills, My hands simply…failed to function during one of the stages. It wasn’t a dangerous situation thank goodness, but it did scare me because it seemed to translate to ‘the beginning of the end’. I felt as though I was beginning to lose my mobility and it terrified me. This I believe, is what contributed in large part to my erratic behavior. Even Blondie noticed that I was out of sorts.

Mystery solved.

They say that the worst part of a mystery is not knowing. Now that I uncovered the reason for my mishigos (yes, I speak Yiddish), I could go about rectifying the situation.

But how?

The situation with the instructor is past fixing- it’s old news. I just need to move on and hope it fades away someday. My relationship with The Bird is probably tainted for good. She claims that it’s forgiven and forgotten, but I find that hard to believe. Combined with the MM situation and my Gun Games fiasco (which I am 99% sure she is aware of, thanks to their close friendship), I’m guessing I am now persona non grata in her eyes. This puts Blondie in an awkward situation, but I don’t know if there’s much I can do.

I’m between a rock and a hard place here. I love BWB, but I’m feeling both embarrassed and a bit indignant about the whole matter. What transpired between MM and I is exactly that: between he and I. It shouldn’t have any bearing on my standing with the group. But my behavior at Gun Games is another story. While The Bird claims she is past it, I’m not sure I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel comfortable around those people again which is unfortunate because that’s a fantastic event.

I need to think this through more before making any decisions. The next step is Conference. Marlboro Man will be there and I can only guess what his reaction will be after my idiotic behavior.

Stay tuned…