Feeling Safe

The thoughts and feelings of the last month are going to come out of my head in random bits and pieces, likely not in the order that you want to hear it, but in the order my head seems to be dictating.

The thing that is at the top of my head right now:  someone's right to feel safe in their own house.

When things have gone south with the Wolf, in the past or this most recent time, a number of friends have offered their homes as "safe houses" where the Wolf is less likely to be able to track me.  Or, like Sebastian, where they want the Wolf to track me, so they can deal with him ... but that's another post.

(Thanks to the folks who read here who extended such offers ♥ )

I work with a fellow who is also a good friend; he does my same job in a different district.  Mid May, when the most recent BS with the Wolf started, he offered his home as shelter for a few days, if I needed a place to mentally and/or physically escape to.

His wife was not in agreement with his offer, which he made without consulting her, and it caused a huge fight between them. She was angry with him for "inviting danger into their home".  I took her side in this fight.

I admit I was, for the initial few moments, hurt by her reaction.  I very quickly realized, however, that she has every right to feel safe in her own home, and if my being there would compromise that, it wasn't a judgement or rejection of me.  It wasn't her wishing me danger; I am sure she realized I had many other options.  I do not know what she has dealt with in the past; I don't actually know her well at all.

I have realayed this story to a few friends, who get angry on my behalf, and the first question asked is "Do they have children?".  They do not, but why does that matter?  Is someone's right to feel safe themselves lessened by the fact they do not have children?  I do not think so.  Of course, I don't have children myself, either.

Maybe it is a coping mechanism on my part to step back and look at the reactions of others around me during this, but I find it fascinating the way people reacted - and trust me, there will be more posts on that too - but most of all, the way a number of people assumed that the reaction that was right for them, was the "only" right reaction, for eveyone else, and for me as well.
 

On being stalked ... part 3

The conclusion ... I hope!

I really wanted to start this one by saying "It started out innocently enough", but heck, they all start out innocently enough, at least on my part! I really don't go looking for trouble, or drama, in my life ...

About 10 years ago, I was managing a garden center and landscaping company on the shores of one of the Great Lakes ... about 30 km (18.5 miles) north of the resort town where I had first encountered the fellows in the first 2 sections of this story ... hmmmmmmm

Stalker Guy and his wife (!) used to be regular customers at the garden center, and I got on very well with his wife. We shared a medical condition (fibromyalgia) plus she had some other complicating factors. Her and I became friends, and by association, I became friends with him. It is worth noting that I am the same age as this couple's youngest daughter.

I changed jobs, but Mrs Stalker Guy and I remained friends, although we did not see each other as often. Her health continued to deteriorate, and they sold their house on the lake shore and moved inland, so she would have a more comfortable life. I continued to visit from time to time, and we stayed in touch via e-mail.

I would hear from Stalked Guy from time to time, all still innocent at this point.

About a year and a half ago, he called me, and said he wanted to come to the town I was now living in and go out for dinner and catch up, he just needed some time away. I didn't think anything of this. Mrs was no longer well enough to travel, but didn't mind if he did. Their daughter also had a number of health concerns, and I thought a chance for him to just get away and forget his problems for a while would be nice for him. So we made arrangements to meet.

We had a nice dinner, some shopping, took in a local cultural festival, and then, at his suggestion, went to the local casino. I am not a casino person. But we went, and he had a good time.

Over the course of the evening he had been getting increasingly ... stranger. He kept talking about how nice it was to have someone to do all these things with, since Mrs was so sick now; how he missed all the things he used to do with her, and that he was so glad he could now do them with me ... little warning bells, and I can't put it into words, but they were there. And I ignored them, against everything I tell other people. At the end of the night, when I said goodbye, he tried to kiss me ... and not a friendly peck on the cheek, either. I pulled back, and said goodnight rather coldly and walked away. To those of you that know me well, no, I did not "sternal notch" him, which would have been my typical response had a complete stranger tried this.

He called me the next day an apologized, and said he had something for me, would I be home. I said I wouldn't be. He called two or three more times, I kept telling him I wouldn't be home (not entirely un-true; I do have a lot of night meetings with my job).

One day I came home after work and there was a package on my doorstep, and a note from him. He had sat on my porch for 3 hours waiting for me to come home, before he gave up and left. Inside the package was a CD of sappy old songs (most of which I didn't even recognize) and a hand written letter professing his love for me.

He called the next day. I told him the letter was inappropriate, had crossed the line, and that I was not interested in him that way, and that the letter had made me uncomfortable enough that I didn't even want to maintain the friendship, that he should just leave me alone.

He continued to call, and e-mail. He had my home number and my work number. I didn't answer or return his calls. I tried returning one e-mail and re-stating my case, asking him to please leave me alone, but it didn't help. His messages and e-mails became passive aggressive, then borderline aggressive. He would call from other phone numbers, his daughter's, his work phone. I got to the point that any number I didn't recognize went to voice mail.

When I relayed my problem to the Wolf, (who was in Georgia training at this point) his response was "Babe, do I need to have someone come shoot this guy?" God love him, but he does have a rather direct approach to problem solving.

This whole thing actually creeped me out enough that I gave my brother all the info I had on the guy, just in case. My brother being one of the few people in my life at the time that I could trust not to over-react with the information, and take matters into his own hands. I had learned from Gave de Becker's book that confrontation, especially from an authority figure, will often turn a non-violent situation into a violent one. I did not want to force the escalation.

I moved, to another town, (not because of stalked guy) so stalked guy no longer knew where I lived, but he kept calling. I kept a file of the letters and e-mails, and started noting the times he called, and summarizing the messages he left.

One of the last straws I had, I was down visiting the Wolf when he was on a 2 month training assignment at Dover AFB. I had gone shopping, and was in Victoria's Secret trying on bras - a red one, I remember very clearly { Support Our Troops and all that ;-) }. The Wolf was supposed to call me when he was done for the day. My phone rang while I was in the change room, and I was all happy because I thought it was the Wolf, and was going to tease him about his timing ... until I looked at the call display. It was stalker guy. I almost cried, it just hit me so hard. I finished my shopping quickly, and went back to the Wolf's apartment to wait for him (with the red bra... ).

The next month, (spring 2009) my work phone rang while I was outside, and the glare from the sun was too strong to read the call display. I answered - it was Stalker Guy. He said he was surprised that I actually answered. I told him that if I had of been able to read the call display, I wouldn't have answered. I told him again that I did not want to hear from him again, that he had really upset me, and to please, please, please leave me alone.

I don't know what I did differently, but that was the last time I heard from him.

Hopefully, that is the final installment in the Stalker Saga. Not a very uplifting tale for the holidays, I am sorry, but it just seemed like a story that wanted to be told.

On being stalked ... part 2

Continuing on with the story ...

When I was in my early 20's I lived with a guy.  A guy who, strangely enough, I met in said resort town where Crazy Guy was. He was my first "serious" relationship, and in the beginning he was very, very nice to me.  We got along well for quite a while; I got along well with his family, and we moved in together.  Then he started hanging out with people who were into drugs.  He would leave Friday morning for work, and wander into out apartment again either late on Sunday, or more and more often not until Monday after work ... in the same clothes he had left in Friday morning.  He also became physically and financially abusive.  I briefly rationalized it that he was bigger and stronger than me, and that he didn't realize he was hurting me when he cuffed me across the head.

It took a while, but I eventually got over that.  I suggested that maybe the relationship had run its course and we should go our separate ways.  He agreed, fairly calmly, and I moved into the spare bedroom until we both found other options.

Two weeks later I came home from work and he was sitting in the living room with all the lights out, and his double barreled shotgun across his lap.  I froze in the living room door.  He looked up and, fairly calmly, gave me the old clichéd "If I can have you neither can anyone else".  I tried to reason with him, while waiting for an opportunity to bolt, and wondering where my cat was (he was fine, just so you know).  At some point during the "conversation" I did end up with the gun pointed at me.  I still to this day do not know if it was loaded.  I eventually made it out of the room and into the bathroom with the cordless phone, and this time, with more experience behind me, made a more intelligent choice - I called his dad, and his younger brother.  I heard him go into the bedroom, and I bolted for a neighbour's.  His dad showed up with both his brothers, they took him, and assured me he would not be back.  (His father was a very gentle man; I suspect that if anything, Shotgun Boy's behaviors were learned from his mother)


He stalked me, including following me into parking lots, waiting up the street and parking across the end of the drive so I couldn't leave, showing up at my door screaming, etc.,etc., for about 6 months.  He followed me one night to the dojo where I had started training, and started screaming at me.  A number of the guys I trained with came to make sure everything was OK, and he left.  Made me feel kinda good, to see people care about me.  

It was likely the start of the healing process.  This kind of thing went on until I severed all ties with anyone who were his friends or family, and moved 300 kms (185 miles) away.
I occasionally missed some of his family, and some of our common friends. But I know it was the best choice for me, and for my safety.

I saw him once, a few years later.  He is the only one of my ex's I am actually afraid of.  Our paths have not crossed in over 10 years; I just hope he learned his lesson, grew up, and did not hurt anyone else.

I do however understand the psychology of abused women.  You think you deserve it, or at very least you don't deserve anything better; you make excuses for them; you think it is normal, and that once he realizes he is hurting you that he will stop, because he loves you.  I know now that the thinking is wrong; but I understand how it can happen. 

I also, dear friends, understand why some of you question my taste in men, and are questioning my relationship with someone who refuses to seek treatment for their PTSD.  I do understand your concerns, and I love you for caring.  But I have to be true to my heart, and I truly believe this will all work out.


Stay tuned for part 3.

On being stalked ... part 1

Quite seriously, I have been stalked 3 times .... once by a relative stranger, when I was 18.  Once by an ex, when I was in my early 20's.  And once by an old man; I had been friends with his wife; this finally ended last spring.  I must be some kind of loser magnet.  Or I make really bad choices (aside from dating people of Scottish decent ...) Or people don't understand the difference between basic common decency and "Yes, I am interested in you."

If you ever find yourself in this situation, I recommend the book "A Gift Of Fear" by Gavin de Becker.  I also recommend martial arts training, (self defense courses, in isolation, give you a false sense of security if the training is not maintained) and keeping 4' lengths of 1.5" hardwood doweling conveniently located in your home, office, and vehicle (honest, officer, I had these around to make curtain rods, and when he got in my face I just panicked and grabbed one ... ) 
I have been told I am paranoid, and need therapy for this.

I met the relative stranger one summer when I worked in a resort town on the shores of one of the Great Lakes.  He was an older man, and seemed nice, but lonely.  I was polite to him, and he took to coming to my store and visiting.  Then he brought me a book of poetry he had written, autographed to me; and started telling me that he was a black magician and that all the other magicians where he was from were afraid of him.  And he could sense my power and that we were destined to be together, and he had so much he could teach me.  
The warning bells started to sound in there somewhere.  
Then he started inviting me to his home for dinner and drinks, and the more I refused, the invitations got less friendly.   He was also sending me dozens of red roses, at my place of work.  Being a naive 18 year old, I went to the police. The officer assigned to me was great - he used to pick up the flowers that Crazy Guy sent me, take the card as evidence, and take the flowers home to his wife.  At least that's what he told me, and it made me laugh, whether it was true or not.  
"My" cop asked crazy guy politely to leave me alone.  Crazy guy got very, very angry.  Crazy guy started following me around town at night.  Cop told Crazy Guy to back off, or he would be charged with harassment (The "Stalking" laws did not exist then).  Crazy guy then started sneaking up on my friends and baring his teeth and growling at them.
Summer ended, my friends and I went back to our September-May lives, and things moved on.  Once and a while I would be back in the resort town and I would see Crazy Guy, standing off in the distance staring at me.  Creepy.  But he never approached me again.
I do still wonder what ever happened to him.  
A small part of me, that part that is in touch now with my self confidence and my personal power, would like to have some kind of closure on the fear, but I doubt I will get that satisfaction.  He had to have been in his 60s when I was 18; I expect he is long gone now.
To be continued ...