These Crazy People Might Kill Me! What Should I Do?

If you are a targeted individual, you are living the life of a martyr whether you want to or not.  Martyrs are persecuted for their beliefs and often are killed.  So how to live under this kind of pressure?

A book that I read several years ago has helped to save my life.  It’s called “The Gift of Fear” by Gavin de Becker.  He is a security expert for high profile targets, like movie stars, politicians, athletes and others of this sort.  Basically what he teaches is that you have the instinct to live.  Follow it.

This does not mean to hide or let yourself be forced to participate in hurting a fellow human.  It means that you know when you are in danger.  For instance you have a weird feeling when walking to your car.  Stop.  Look around.  Call someone on your cell phone, so you are in contact with someone else.  Turn around and go back where you were and get someone to walk to the car with you.  Any or all of this.  Follow your “gut reaction”.  You have survived this far, so you must have pretty good instincts.  Work at identifying your own internal signals and trust them.

This is hard to do when they are pushing all your buttons at once and know all your triggers.  If in doubt, stop.  If I am overwhelmed like that, I will go home or stop what I am doing and take a break.  I will go off of my regular route.  I will call in and miss appointments.  I “change it up” in other words.  I really feel sad for people who are comforted by a lot of routine, because being predictable makes you a sitting target, not a moving target which is harder to hit.  I’m sorry if it seems not only a waste of time to mess up your routines and you may feel that your sense of sanity will be even more compromised, but be flexible as you can.

One of the weird things I have survived:

I was driving on a back road to a small town from the highway at about 3 am.  I had gotten off of a long shift at a restaurant and was completely beat.  I was already driving kind of slow because my vision was blurry.  Looking back maybe they drugged something I drank or ate at the restaurant.  This truck came speeding up on me.  There was no one else around.  No street lights.  No other cars.  No houses around with lights on.  I was alone and it was long before anyone ever thought of carrying a phone around with them to call someone when they were in trouble.

This truck came speeding up on me.  I thought he would just pass me real fast and “blow my doors off” like it was some stupid joke.  The truck hit me and pushed my SUV forward.  It was weird because he or she slowed down, so they were pushing me, so it wasn’t like a real wreck.  I thought that if I ended up in the ditch I would be dead.  There had been stories of finding women dead in cars on the side of the road on that stretch of highway that I had just left a few miles back.  I focused on keeping my car on the road and not in the ditch.

As they scooted my car toward the ditch and I was trying to keep my car on the road, they turned off their headlights.  I froze for a second when that happened.  There was no reason to turn off headlights except to hide the fact that they were using their truck to force me off of the road and then God only knows what would have happened.  For a few seconds all I could think of for some reason was of a man punching me in the face and knocking me out.  I could not fight if I was forced out of my car or if a guy got in it.  And he had a gun, no doubt.  I turned my lights off too and started drifting toward the side of the road like the attacker was achieving their goal.  I watched and when my speed got down to below 20 miles an hour, I punched the gas.  I left the lights off and prayed to God I didn’t wreck because I couldn’t really see the road, but thankfully it was a straight road.  I did not turn my lights back on until I got to town.

I watched the rear view mirror.  The attacker first started pursuing without lights, but as I got close enough to town to see the street lights, he turned on his lights and turned down a side road.

I did not go to the police/sheriff because the chances of them being friends with or even related to my attacker was very high.  I did spread it around word of mouth to other girls to not go down that road, especially at night.

I felt kind of bad because I didn’t go to the authorities, but in my gut instinct I did not think it would be a good idea.  Maybe I was sort of a coward for that.  I have found that survivalists are not really knights in shining armor marching into battle with flags waving and presenting themselves as a gleaming target in all their shiny armor.  Survivalist are probably camaflogued in mud and crawling around near the ground some place.  As much as we all love the romantic ideal of the hero, you are helping a lot more people by staying alive, than if you were taken out.

You have good instincts and wisdom.  One of my main prayers is for common sense and good judgment.  “Live to fight another day,” as the old saying goes.

The gift of fear, of instinct, of common sense and good judgment is our greatest gift for survival.  There appears to be a free PDF version of the book, The Gift of Fear, when I looked for it in the search engine.  But even if you have to buy it, this book is worth it.  “The Gift of Fear” by Gavin de Becker.

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