My Stalking Experience

This is a very heavy one so if you're triggered by sensitive topics, this isn't for you.

As I sit down to write this, I'm acutely aware of the weight of the words I'm about to share. In fact, I'm overwhelmed by the gravity of the words I'm about to share. Opening up about my experience as a stalking survivor is not a journey I take lightly, but I believe it's one that needs to be told. My hope is that by shedding light on my story, I can offer solace and strength to others who may be enduring similar trials. It's not easy to delve into the depths of a past marked by fear and uncertainty. But I believe that shedding light on my experience as a stalking victim can empower others and perhaps serve as a beacon of hope for those who have walked a similar path.

Here it goes:

This was a wild ride that I never signed up for. At the tender age of just 18 (I'd just finished school- thinking I was on top of the world), I found myself thrust into a nightmarish ordeal that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. My stalkers weren't the faceless strangers we often envision in such scenarios. No, they were a married couple—a man and a woman (let's call them Bonnie and Clyde for drama's sake)—who harbored an inexplicable obsession with me. I was ensnared in a nightmare that they had orchestrated. Their relentless pursuit invaded every facet of my life, casting a shadow over my sense of security and peace of mind. Their obsession transcended boundaries, infiltrating every aspect of my life and leaving me suffocating beneath the weight of their relentless pursuit.

I remember the constant barrage of creepy messages (that veered from unsettling declarations of affection to thinly veiled chilling threats leaving me trembling in fear), the unwelcome visits to places I frequented (they were constantly popping up uninvited- their eyes boring into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine) , and the constant, chilling, unsettling feeling of being watched even in the sanctuary of my own home. It was a living nightmare—a reality warped by paranoia and dread. But perhaps what was most terrifying was the uncertainty of it all. I didn't know what they wanted from me or why I had become the object of their fixation. Their pursuit knew no bounds.

In the face of such relentless pursuit, I made the difficult decision to somewhat withdraw from the online realm that I'd once used as a source of expression and connection. I blocked them, used aliases (though then went back to my real name so that my loved ones who I maybe didn't see much, e.g. distant relatives, knew who I was), refrained from posting any pictures of myself, and even lied about my age. I concealed any trace of my existence that could serve as a small breadcrumb for my relentless pursuers. It wasn't paranoia—it was survival instinct. The thought of my stalkers stumbling across any trace of me online sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't afford to give them any more ammunition to fuel their obsession. The mere thought of my stalkers stumbling across any fragment of my digital footprint sent waves of dread coursing through my veins. It was a precaution born out of necessity, a desperate bid to safeguard what little remained of my peace of mind.

Instead, I sought refuge in the comforting presence of my ride-or-die best friend—he was my beacon of hope who helped me get through it- a steadfast ally who stood by me through it all. His home became my sanctuary, a safe haven, a place where I could temporarily escape the suffocating grip of fear. Together, we weathered the storm, navigating the treacherous waters of uncertainty and fear. His unwavering support provided me with a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of fear and uncertainty. Together, we devised strategies to evade Bonnie and Clyde, and seeking solace in the safety of his home and the comforting embrace of his friendship. Forever my rock.

But despite the turmoil that consumed my life, I never reported my stalkers to the authorities, never summed up the courage to do so and it's a decision that I still grapple with to this day. I don't know what happened to them. Did someone else intervene on my behalf to spare me from further torment? Did Bonnie and Clyde simply grow bored and move on to their next target, preying on another victim? The answers elude me, lost in the murky depths of uncertainty. I'll never know the truth or what exactly happened to them.

Despite my best efforts to remain anonymous, I recently came across a careless slip-up which has threatened to expose me to further danger. A tweet from several years ago, in which I stated my age as 22- I wasn't (I was in my teens at the time), but I worry some people, who think they're being Sherlock Holmes, will stumble across it, call me out on it and think I'm a phony. That they'll think they're having a "gotcha" moment and that leaves me somewhat feeling exposed and vulnerable once more, it's a stark reminder of the ever-present threat that lingers in the shadows.. especially because I don't know for sure what happened to my stalkers. So that's clarification there- yes, I lied about my age and pretended I was older (and now that I am *actually* the age I claimed I was at the time, it makes me look like a big phony screw-up), but it was for my own safety.

Today as I reflect on my journey as a stalking survivor, I'm filled with a profound sense of gratitude—for my unwavering support system (my loved ones), for the strength that carried me through the darkest of days, and for the opportunity to reclaim my life and my sense of self. Though the scars of my past may never fully fade, I refuse to be defined by them.

To those who find themselves trapped in the suffocating grip of fear and uncertainty, I offer this message of hope: you are not alone. Even if you're reluctant to report to the police, reach out to those who love and support you, and never underestimate the power of your own resilience. Together, we can shine a light into the shadows and reclaim our right to live free from fear. For in our collective strength lies the promise of a brighter tomorrow—a tomorrow where the shadows of our past no longer hold sway over our future. Lean on your loved ones and trust your gut.

I'm still worried they could potentially be reading this— and if so, hi Bonnie and Clyde, I see you lurking. But guess what? I've got my support network, I've got my guard up, and I've got zero time for your nonsense. So keep your distance, because this girl ain't playing games.

But let me set the record straight: I'm sharing this because I felt compelled to do so, not just for myself or for fellow stalking victims, but also to *kind of* satisfy some nosy naysayers, for whom have made me feel forced to reveal this. Their curiosity has put me at risk of being stalked again, and that's a risk I'm not willing to take lightly. I used "22" falsely several years back, and now I'm sharing my real age—yes, *actually* 22. But that revelation has me on edge, knowing those potential stalkers could come knocking again. So yeah, other than my name, I still keep a low profile online, and honestly, I kinda dig it. Safe to say, I'll be keeping my guard up.