Member-only story
I’m Beginning To Think It’s Me
I’ve long known that I’m something of an acquired taste. Not everyone loves me. In fact, I’m quite polarizing. People either love me or curse the very day I was born. I’m used to strong reactions to me.
I’ve been stalked 4 times. I’ve been blackmailed, threatened, followed, maligned and made the subject of various social media hate campaigns.
The stalkers, I could pinpoint their problems, they were men that for one reason or another fixated on me as some sort of object of desire for whatever reason. That was creepy and terrifying, but at least I understood the motivation in a twisted way.
The blackmail, threats and hate campaigns weren’t a mystery either. They were all preceded by something, a break-up, a new relationship, or concerns I was going to “steal” someone’s man. As an aside, I don’t steal men, you can’t steal people and I’m very happy with my husband, thank you.
The result of all these experiences has been what you’d expect, PTSD — me looking behind corners, jumping in fear when the phone rings, hiding in the washroom when there’s a knock at the door. Constant, sustained hypervigilance because everyone and anyone could be a threat.
