I am not an overly protective sort. For the most part, I brush off sensational news of children snatched from the front yard, or adults who go missing, only to be found in a shallow grave several months later.
I brush off concerns about the amount of personal info I share. And about the pictures I post.
After all, we are pretty unexciting suburbanites. We are not wealthy, or given to accumulating splashy things. We don’t live in a dangerous neighborhood. We don’t have jobs that put us in the public eye. We’re pretty normal in every way (at least on the surface).
In other words, there’s no reason on earth why anyone would seek us out. No reason for anyone to want to hurt us—or our daughter. None.
But every once in a while? Something gets under my skin and makes me nervous. Things like the season finale of Detroit 187.
Did you see it? If not, let me summarize it for you. A Very Bad Guy hunts down an innocent family and shoots them in cold blood. Every single one of them. But the image that stayed with me? Was of blood dripping from a cupboard where the baby girl had been shot to death where she hid.
Now, I know that it’s only television. And that things like that don’t happen—at least not very often. And there’s no reason why a Very Bad Guy would ever target my family.
Nonetheless, it scared the shit out of me. For a few dark hours, I considered ripping down this entire blog and retiring from the blogging world for good.
I won’t—I’ve worked too hard to get this far (whatever “this” is).
But right now? I’m really wondering if I’m making the right choice for my family. Am I too open? Should I change my ways?
What line do you guys draw in the sand?