My 2 major stalking situations started the same: I was friendly to strangers who approached me. 1 lasted 6 months where he incessantly called, emailed, followed me—including harassing my colleagues at work. The other has been ongoing 16 years, through 2 restraining orders
In all cases, it wasn’t our fault. The creepy men who don’t listen to “no” are at fault. They feel entitled to women’s energy, bodies, & time. It’s also the fault of enablers who give excuses for men like this & blame women.
They can all be yote into the sun for all I care.
Here’s how I stopped the first one:
Police asked him to stop & he wouldn’t. My friend, knowing the stalker was religious (he kept inviting me to his church), suggested I contact his pastor. I figured, why not?
The pastor asked him to stop and he finally did!
the 16 years one has required repeated intervention from law enforcement & the courts. I also told him that if he approaches me in person again I will defend myself with necessary force. I mean it. If he tries to rape me, one of us will die…& I don’t intend for it to be me
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Time to tell my cautionary tale of how this tweet led to a disastrous case of romance fraud. Because it started on Twitter, & ended here, this is the ground I’ll bury it. The tweets will come at random times over weeks or months. I may have to layer threads. But here we go🧵
It begins in my marital bed with my husband. My head on his chest. Listening to his breath like I had for 9 years.
But something sounded wrong: shuddering, rattling. His skin hot against my face. Sweaty. His snores turning to coughs. Summer 2021: Delta variant of covid run amok
“Brian?” I shook him, “Brian, are you sick?”
He startled awake, gasping for air.
“I’m fine!” He grumbled.
“You don’t sound fine. You sound sick.”
“I’m FINE.”
“You have a fever.” I leapt from bed. Instinctively covered my mouth & nose. Fumbled around for an N95.
CC Twitter: @WesleyWilson uses his Dr. title & pretends to be Covid-safe to gain trust. He lied to me repeatedly over the past six months to gain sexual access to me. Said he loved me, wanted to marry me, move in with me, & have children with me… as recently as a few days ago.
When he did something that hurt me, and I shared I wanted to talk about it so we could repair, he refused to talk to me about it, then discarded me via text message. This despite presenting himself as “trauma-informed” & gaining my trust over 6 months
He repeatedly asked me to share about my trauma, so I finally opened up to him about the sexual abuse. I told him about my triggers, & how one of my greatest fears is abandonment for bringing up issues, b/c when I brought up CSA to my family, they alienated me/abandoned me.
that was awkward. The pharmacist filling my prescription was none other than… a former student I wrote a letter of rec for pharmacy school! She is about to graduate with her PharmD. She said “you were my favorite professor!” as she handed me the sex drug
“I’m so proud of you!” I said, “& so embarrassed that this is how our paths crossed again!”
“Do you want me to go over this with you?”
“No, I’m good, thank you!”
Still I’m so stoked for her! And laughing. Because of course.
Actually I think my story is less embarrassing than the time I was in the locker room at the university gym & a very not-shy emeritus professor struck up a conversation with me while she was totally naked
3-6 years old. My dad pulling me in a radio flyer wagon on his daily 5 mile run. He turns around and smiles back at me. “One day you’ll be a runner like me.”
8 years old. Running with him now. Struggling to keep up. “One day you’ll outrun me.” 🧵
10. On trails through the redwoods. Leaping over roots & brushing ferns. Playing the plant identification game. If I get enough right, we get ice cream on the way home.
“Uhhh… myosotis… laxa?”
“Common name?”
“Forget-me-not.”
“Ding ding ding!”
One day he stumbles on the trail. He falls a lot now. This time his arm— which hangs limply at his side, its muscles refusing their duty—doesn’t move to catch him. Blood on his face, elbows, and shin.
“Sorry kiddo, your old man isn’t feeling so great. Let’s walk home this time.”
Sometimes I wonder what it must be like to go through [insert deeply painful event] & be able to find comfort in hugs from parents, siblings, partners, or friends
Pain on pain being reminded that I’m all alone with every struggle, and those who hurt me are being held
What is it like to know that, when all else falls away, you can seek shelter with family?
The only place left for me — and many like me —is the street
Some comfort: thus far I have navigated my life alone. What a testament to my perseverance & intellect! Full agency over my life — no familial support, but also no obligations —
Despite the lack of love, I have chosen to be a loving person who plants flowers wherever I go