An open letter to the courthouse, and my stalker…

I don’t really want to talk about it- but it seems, my fingers have something else to say. As usual, my brain and heart want to push him away. I don’t want to think about the past 6 years.

Sometimes, I forget. It’ll be months between a phone call, or text. Once, it was an entire year.

I heard he’s married now. He has a little baby. Someone said he moved out of state. So, that’s why I can’t comprehend why after 6 years, that he actually still wants to hurt me. He finds joy in my pain. I’ve been running the idea of it all through my brain and I’ve finally determined- it doesn’t make sense because in itself, it is nonsensical.

This morning, I answered a call. Someone asked for him by name- but only by first name. And as usual, I just said it was the wrong number. His name is popular and lately, though I’ve had a string of wrong number calls, or weird calls with someone whispering into the phone. I told myself it was connection issues. There’s been a lot of verifiable issues in the past few months with my Samsung- if I can lie about it, it’s less scary. Connection issues. It wasn’t out of the realm of thought that this could be the problem. It couldn’t be HIM. Until, this call.

They were angrier than usual. I asked why people kept calling and looking for, “Gerald” (let’s call him that.) They said that, “Gerald” had given them this phone number. I stated that wasn’t possible. But then- I realized when I spoke his last name- they confirmed his middle name. My stalker and the phone recipient were the same individual. The company asked if we were married and I said we weren’t. I told them, “Gerald” was angry at me, and had probably given them my number in retaliation. They said they refused to believe someone would do that. I replied, “You’ve never met him. You’d be surprised.” We hung up and I called the police. Again.

We met 7 years ago. We were both working for the same corporation and we were friends after a very painful break-up. I left my ex-fiance in a hurry when I found someone else in our relationship, and my new home. I packed whatever I could and found an awful apartment a few miles away. Ava and I had to start over and I didn’t have a bed, or much to my name. He gave me a bed to sleep in- left over from his parent’s guestroom. I hesitantly accepted as he seemed to be a good friend- but then, we started to date and everything went south. We dated for one week. That was all it took and I realized something was horribly off. When I tried to break up, he was very, very, angry.

At first, it was phone calls. Over and over. Then it was emails. He promised to not be cruel anymore and I was weak- I let him back in. He pleaded for me to see his case with apologies- and I did, because at the time- I thought that meant someone cared. But then- he started threatening to call my workplace. I was at a state job at the time and spoke to my boss who gave paid time to go look into a restraining order. Then, the social media barage started. He created fake profiles to tweet at me. He responded to anything I commented on. He commented on public check-ins. Text messages declared what a, “fraud” I was. How he was going to, “show the world what a horrible person” I was. So, naturally- I hid.

It didn’t affect me publicly, until a large media piece came out with my face and the fact that I was a cancer survivor. He decided to write all over the piece that I had lied about cancer, (which to this day, is one of the most hurtful accusations I’ve ever faced.) When I went through my radical hysterectomy and third cancer treatment in 2013, as pathetic as it is- I felt vindicated. Some part of me so wanted to show him my medical records- but I didn’t. And, for a while- things were better- but I was probably lying to myself.

When I was finally ready to put the restraining order in, I wasn’t prepared for his backlash. He was angry and he immediately let me know that he was going to turn me in for filing a false report. He said, “You’re going to get what’s coming.” And, I went back into hiding. I stopped going to events. I didn’t attend Social Media Breakfasts or truly anything in the cities. I stayed in a safe bubble. Then, I found out I had cancer again and I was pregnant. I buried myself inside the cocoon I had made.

I thought I saw him driving by my house- but then, I thought I saw him everywhere. I stayed in relationships because I was afraid to be alone. He always seemed to know when I broke up with someone. He always found where I lived. I was never truly free of him.

The police have called him and stopped by more times than I can count on my hands. In all honesty, I’ve forgotten how many times I’ve called 911, because I’ve received a message, email, text or call.

And today, finally- I broke down. I sobbed in a way that I didn’t recognize my own voice. I had pushed myself so far with business and parenthood and cancer advocacy that I didn’t have anything left to devote to being scared that I wasn’t safe. The policeman was gentle, the advocate gave me a hug- but it was all more of the same. In the back of my mind, I tried to make excuses. I found myself saying, “It’s just a few wrong number calls. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Because, I remembered his anger the last time the restraining order started- and I remembered my fear when I received a text message from him the day it stopped.

He always knows where to find me- he will read this and I will hear from him. When I went to a dating site a few months ago- within a week, he was sending me messages. On October 6th, I received a push notification that he’s added me as a contact on a social network. And weekly, these calls.

I’ll tell you what is even more painful than living my life always looking behind me, or wondering who’s calling from an unknown number: It’s the fact that because he’s never threatened to kill me, or touched me- No one can DO anything. It doesn’t matter if he drives by my house, or has friends or collection agencies call. It doesn’t even matter if he breathes into the phone multiple times in a row and sends me threatening texts. He knows just how far he can go and he loves the game.

My Order of Protection was dismissed today. The court clerk told me there’s no way they could push it through if he hasn’t touched me. So- “Gerald” wins again. I pay another $322 for another 2 years of a lesser order, that doesn’t protect me at any level. If he contacts me, the police give him a stern warning- that’s it. That’s all a, “Harassment Order,” can do. And in Minnesota, unless there is physical violence: Victims have little rights. For another 2 years, I wait out the fact that he either touches me and actually kills me, or I suck it all up. To me- that’s no way to live.

I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to change my number. I don’t want to move again. I think it’s utter insanity that I’m paying $322, (unless the court agrees to my waiver request,) again for an attempt at keeping my children and I safe. Because- what is safety? To them, I’m safe if I’m not being touched. The rest, the police can deal with. But, can I?

Ironically, I paid off my cancer bills by working insane hours to stop my own medical bill collection calls. Tens of thousands paid with my hard work and sacrifice. And now, I have to take his calls- as if it’s all some sort of sick, sick, joke.

We were never married. We never purchased anything together, (not even a meal.) But somehow- I’m tied to a man that hates me so much, he inflicts me with pain at every chance he has. And I have to pay $322 for a chance at safety. Where is the justice in that?

So to Gerald- you know this isn’t your name, but I’m asking you: Please stop. For 6 years, you’ve tried to ruin every moment. I can’t live like this anymore and I’m finally ready to start speaking out.