pity – Sweat & Sparkle

elephant-carpet The old name of my blog was “My Stalker Is Fat”. I didn’t just randomly pull that name out of a hat for giggles and kicks. I really do have a stalker. My husband’s ex-wife, Psycho, has been fanatically obsessed with me for well over a decade, with no signs of slowing down or getting a life.

To not mention it is like not talking about the elephant in the room. So let’s talk about it.

There are several types of stalkers. None of them are exactly the mentally-stable sort, and you won’t be surprised to learn that many stalkers have personality disorders. Psycho is a proud member of the club called Rejected Stalker.

A rejected stalker is pissy because a close relationship ended, and they use stalking as a way to seek reconciliation with the person who left them, or to punish that person for not wanting to be with their crazy ass anymore. Like the true nutcase they are, they ricochet randomly from one to the other, at times prancing about demanding attention, and other times hissing and spitting in full bitch mode because, surprise-surprise, acting like a maniacal idiot didn’t lure back their now-creeped-out love interest.

I have said, more than once, that Psycho stalks me as a way to feel like a part of our lives, to feel some connection to my husband, even though he has no interest in her one-woman freak show. So I wasn’t shocked to read, “In some cases of protracted stalking, the behaviour is maintained because it becomes a substitute for the past relationship, as it allows the stalker to continue to feel close to the victim” (Stalking Risk Profile). Bingo!

Her stalking behavior transferred largely to me for two reasons: (1) I have more of an online presence than my husband, since he doesn’t blog, so I am more available to her; and (2) she is obsessed with me because I am with him, and her jealousy of me is so consuming that she lost any tenuous thread of lucidity long ago. I am not certain that she even fully understands how crazy her behavior about me is. To her, it has become normal to let her life revolve around us, to watch us, to pry for information about us, to paw at any shred or scrap of us she can get her claws into. After all, a common motive of female stalkers is obsession (Characteristics of Female Stalkers).

Obviously, I could eliminate some of her crazy behavior simply by not blogging. But doing (or not doing) something solely because of her is not an option. I am responsible for my behavior, not hers. I have no control over her delusions.

Psycho has: followed me while I am running. Driven by our home. Grilled the kids and pumped them for information about us. Used the kids’ Facebook accounts to view my profile, since I have her blocked. And that’s just a few examples.

Being stalked is something you never really get used to, no matter how long it goes on. I joke about it, but ultimately, it’s not funny at all. It’s sad and pathetic that obsessing over me is more important than anything or anyone else in her life, including the kids. It’s sad that other people know she is unstable, yet turn a blind eye. It’s sad that she refuses to move on and accept that her own behavior destroyed any possible relationship with my husband long ago.

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The only part I have any control over, or responsibility for, is my own behavior. I will continue to blog. I will continue to live my life, love my husband and the kids, be happy, and work on improving my health and fitness and well-being.

If people like Psycho serve any purpose, at least they can offer up tremendous examples of how not to be, and what happens when you allow yourself to rot in regrets, putrefy in the past, and decay in self-disappointment. Maybe someday she will mature enough to want to be better than that. I certainly hope so, for the kids’ sake and for her own…but I sincerely doubt it.

P.S.

It would be irresponsible to write about stalking and not mention the Stalking Resource Center. Someone searching for help might land on my blog because I mentioned stalking. If you are a victim of stalking, the Victim Connect Helpline is 855-4-VICTIM (855-484-2846). The Stalking Resource Center offers a page called Help for Victims, and resources are also available from the Office on Women’s Health and the Department of Justice.

Someone Who Hates You
Ever since the kids were small, barely able to understand the words coming out of their own little mouths, I have heard “Mama hates you”.

There are many, many things sad about this, not the least of which is the kids’ repeated exposure to their mother’s vitriol and raging immaturity. But on top of all that, I loudly call bullshit anyway.

I don’t pretend to know Psycho’s deep, dark feelings for me, but I know it’s not hate. No one continually seeks out who or what they hate. For example, I hate roaches. Can’t stand ’em. I don’t go desperately hunting for them, looking them up online, searching Facebook for pictures of them, talking about them non-stop, asking questions about them, or following them around. I avoid them. That is logical.

So no, I can’t buy that a woman who stalks me, follows me, and obsesses over me for over a decade, actually hates me. That makes no rational sense. Obviously, she has strong feelings about me, yes, but I believe she reacts so violently because of how negatively she feels about herself in comparison.

I have no control over that. I am happy with my life, enjoy being with my husband, love my family, love my home, have pride at work, and strive to improve my health. Should I debase myself to make her feel better about herself? Hardly. If she focused even half as hard on her own life as she does on mine, she may not be so miserable in the first place.

I have simply told the kids that it doesn’t matter to me what someone else thinks of me. It’s true, and it also seems to help them feel better about the nasty, jealous things that are said about me.

I see so much being taught to the kids that is toxic: teaching them to compare themselves to others, to never be happy with what they have, to always want what someone else has, to value material possessions above the people in their lives, to focus on tearing others down instead of building themselves up. I don’t want that garbage in their heads. They are better than that.

As they get older, I can only hope they open their eyes to reality and decide to rise above the negativity and drama. I can only hope they see their dad and me actually enjoying each other’s company, respecting each other, looking out for each other, and that they realize it doesn’t have to be the way they live at their other home.

It motivates me to stay the course and keep working on myself. I want them to see me working hard for improvements, not being complacent with just putting others down for doing or being better than where I am now. I want them to see me earning my results, not sitting around waiting for hand-outs. I want them to be so much better than the examples they are being given by others every day. I want them to be what I know they truly can be: so much higher and brighter and happier than where they are forced to be now.

You Could Be Them