Getting Stalked

"Can you prove that he's not just shopping next door?" The police officer asked. 

I was on the phone trying to find out how to get a restraining order. 

"He show's up at 6pm, when he knows I leave work and parks next to my car in the parking lot." I answered. 

"But, then he goes into the other store." The officer sighed. 

"Yes, but he does it right at 6pm, when he knows I have to walk past him. He parks next to my car." 

"Look. I believe you. But it doesn't matter. He hasn't threatened you, he doesn't talk to you. There's no law against parking and shopping." 

That was that. 

This was the third call I made asking for help. 

First: Coming home after a weekend vacation to find my home had been entered and specific items that were relative to our relationship were moved so I would know that he had been there. My journal. A leather belt. 

Second: When he sent a text to me saying he was sad that I had taken photos of him down in my home. A home he hadn't been allowed into. I had taken the photos down the night before. The window shades had been open. 

No threats made. No solid proof. It didn't matter. 

I remember being at work, entering into the backroom of the diamond store where our back entrance was; a large glass utility door. Holding jewelry in my hands, it was a moment before I noticed he was there. Parked in his vehicle, in our company spot; staring into the back window, staring at me. 

It had been 3/4 of a year since the volatile break up. He was dating a blond. 

I had him blocked on social media, but she wasn't, I vaguely knew her. She posted a "family" picture of her with her kids and his, he stood next to her in the spring time picture with a bright doting smile. Her caption read the adoring words of a devoted girlfriend. "So lucky to have this guy." she said. 

Heebie Jeebies. 

Less than an hour later, I was crouched in the front garden, pulling out weeds and clearing the soil to plant flowers soon. A chill ran up my spine for no reason. My sixth sense zinging. 

Glancing up, there he was. The posted "family" photo was still hot off the griddle, his public dedication to his "true love" for all to see. Yet, here he was in person. Looking at me.

His ray bans gleaming in the sunlight as he drove slowly past my house, on my street, looking directly at me as he went. I lived 10 miles away from where he did. A special trip to drive past my house, my street, my neighborhood. No words spoken, no threats made. Just an "innocent" drive by.

Turns out- that's not illegal. 

Week by week, past my house, parked at my work. 

Late night messages from his "then best friend" texting me saying: "He's drunk, he left here a moment ago and I don't know if he's headed your way. He's not thinking clearly. Just felt like I should give you a heads up."

I blocked everyone I could think of that I knew on every form of social media I had. I didn't want him to know when my events were- where I would be. 

I even moved into another city. 

But, he still knew where I worked. 

Winter came. A year and half had passed.

Next to my business was the UPS store and one day I stood in a line extended out through the front door. 

My breath became shallow. I felt nervous for no reason. The way you felt in high school when the person at the back of the class had a paper airplane aimed at your head. 

Turning around, there he was. 

Standing behind me in line. I mailed my package and returned to my business. Standing behind the sales counter- I had a panic attack. 

He had girlfriends through all of this. He ended up married. Two weeks after his marriage, he was there again- parked next to my car. 6pm. I had to pass him sitting in his vehicle watching me as I unlocked my car door, climbed in, shut the door and left. 

No proof. Every time something like this happened- it was explainable. Circumstance. Right? He didn't "do" anything. I couldn't file a restraining order, couldn't call the cops because he didn't make threats. He just sat there.

Three years had passed when I arrived at a crystal shop in Orem, Utah. Having rented the venue to do an event, I was running late, being seven months pregnant and trying to pack and prepare for the event, I moved slower than I anticipated. My husband, accompanied me; carried the heavy things.

As our car pulled in, my friend and co-host came to the parking lot to meet me. 

Instead of a friendly hello hug- her face was serious. 

"He's here."

The crystal store had advertised me. Posted fliers and had marketing out that I would be there at noon that day. 

Three cities away from where he lived- he just so happened to be shopping there at noon that day. 

No Proof. After all- it could ALL just be coincidence. 

It wasn't coincidence that my husband stood next to me and looked directly at "him" as "he" scurried away without a word. 

I'm writing this today because it's been over 2 years since that day at the crystal store. 

Because we condemn women in situations like mine. We say "Why didn't you report it?" "Why didn't you take more action?" 

How do we know they didn't? I tried.

Without proof- without concrete evidence that the stalker is stalking you- you can't. 

My closest friends, my co-workers, my boss; all witnessed and saw. They believed me. 

MOST of my outside friends and acquaintances gossiped about me. "I don't know why she has it out for him." "Why can't she just let it go?" "He's not a bad guy- I don't know why she won't just come to party. Just because he's invited too."

Outside friends and acquaintances just wanted to keep the peace. Didn't want to take sides. Didn't want their lives and social events disrupted. 

I didn't have energy or inclination to fight or vilify him. But my voice, my truth about what was happening was discounted, disregarded. What others saw as an old relationship (and should have been just that) was an ongoing trauma for years. Weekly, he drove past my work. Often he parked next to my car at closing time. Any time a car similar to his was on any street I traveled I looked over my shoulder- double checked, braced myself. 

We often think that when we have the courage to "OUT" an abuser or if a woman finally takes the steps to "STAND UP" for herself, that she has an army of supporters ready. 

No. 

I was the first of his ex-romantic partners to raise my hand and say "He's not safe." and no one believed me. I lost "friends" I had people and organizations black-list me for being a hateful rejectee, a liar. Enough time has passed, that there are a handful of women who have walked the path behind me who also say "He's not safe." I'm finally being taken seriously.

People want to give abusers benefit of the doubt- and I understand that. 

No one wants to lose the guy who shows up to parties and buys everyone's drinks, or the guy you can always call to fix a fence or repair a faucet when you're in a pinch. 

Not taking sides- is taking sides. 

Putting a woman in danger (or man) in order to keep social graces easier, is taking a side. 

When I shared and spoke about my anger and the injustice of the abuse I experienced in our relationship- the money he stole from me, the fraud he committed using my insurance- I was told: "Your anger is damaging your message. You're too angry to represent the issue of domestic violence- it would look bad." 

Humbly and frustratingly, I probably have to agree. I can't really share about my experience with neutrality. Sometimes I get too hot and fired up. 

 I once felt so betrayed and angry at losing so many friends- but now- I'm grateful. I'm grateful to have learned who stands for causes they pretend to. I'm grateful to look around my current friend circle and know without a doubt that we have each other's back. 

I get angry that there are so little consequences for abusers and for women to be believed. So... I keep sharing.

Not because I'm out to get him- but because there are women out there who feel helpless. Who other's aren't believing. Women who are being told "You should have gotten a restraining order." as if they were in some way responsible for being in danger. 

Yes, I hear the argument and reality that many women claim to be abused that haven't been- just to be vindictive. I know that happens. But I don't think it happens to the extent we assume. 

I made a goal to write a weekly blog and that's why this is here today. No more, no less. 

I haven't had any issues with that man since I left my career at that business, why this is on my mind to write today- I'm not sure. But I think it's important. I'll still keep sharing. 

This isn't about "him." It's about every woman who reads this.