Today I am thankful for Zombie Love.
You know....zombie love. It is a phrase that correlates directly with my high school sweetheart.
You don't know what zombie love is?
Oh, that's first love that refuses to die no matter how clear it is that two dumb kids who imprinted on each other were never suited for each other.
Zombie love -
It never dies.
It will always be undead....
forever.
It just changes.
See?
I have a zombie love.
He was Scottish.
I'm a little sad about it today because I was informed he was the reason I was stalked heavily in the past few years.
My ex was jealous that I was willing to meet my old friend in a crowded restaurant filled with my ultra-conservative work colleagues and political adversaries.
Oh, did I mention my old friend had a broken leg?
Oh, did I mention that he gets much hotter chicks?
Yeah....nothing was going to happen.
I don't understand why a man heck bent on divorcing me would get so jealous that I met with an old friend.
I really don't.
Alrighty then!!!
Whatever....
I'm not sure what I could have done.
Hey.....it's not like I left the house wearing a blue ribbon!!
Why would anyone be jealous of that?
Today I also realized that this man had a really big impact on the men who came after him.
I have a friend I adore who is of Scottish heritage. Today I went birthday shopping and ordered some bland ol' thing from Scotland for him.
I was looking at the Tartan cloths.
I realized as I scrolled through the names that most of my close male friends have been Scottish.
My goodness, I had no idea that most of my closest friends were all Scottish.
I didn't marry any of them.
They guy I'm divorcing is Irish descended, like I am.
Every man I've looked twice at has been Scottish.
Holy Crap!!
That could be my problem right there!!
That zombie love is still impacting my life!
You know.... that settles it.
I'm running off to Latin America.
Okay, I'm just teasing.
I'm still trying to process the stalking. I spent the day reading books on safety.
I learned a lot.
I probably need a gun, need to change my name, move and hide.
I also read one book on enmeshed, abusive families. Apparently stalking isn't uncommon and the stalking tends to take place between September and January (around Christmas) or during times of stress. They tend to harass third parties (including ex spouses) in order to get to their estranged children.
This could explain a lot. Most of the stalking I endure takes place between Oct. 15th and Jan. 15th. This year, however, has been exceptionally bad due to the death of my stalker's father.
It would seem that these are attempts to gain the attention of my ex so that he'll visit his mother for the holidays.
At least that would make sense if my ex wasn't talking to his family.
He tells me that he's estranged from them but I'm learning that this isn't the case nor has it been the case for several years.
This isn't making sense.
The cops think that they may be following me around to try to catch me doing something immoral.
It still doesn't explain to me how my ex knows when his sister is following me.
Maybe they're working together?
Maybe I'm grasping at too many straws.
There has to be an explanation, doesn't there?
How can I stay safe unless I know exactly what is going on?
I feel incredibly horrible because when the stalking first started (over 21 years ago), my soon to be ex-husband blamed my zombie love.
He blamed my high school sweetheart. Well, to be fair, rumor had it that my zombie love attacked a roommate thinking we were bopping back in 1987 (six months after he broke up with me, no less).
My roommate was Scottish, too.
That's funny.
After the stalking continued in 1992, I changed my name and hid.
When it happened again in 2011, my soon to be ex-husband blamed my zombie love and then alluded to stalking him. It was last year that he admitted to asking his cousin to stalk my old friend.
Thank goodness he has a common name and doesn't live in the same state we live in.
Yikes....
I feel guilty for hiding away from my old friend.
I now feel guilty for running off when I saw him in grocery stores or parking lots. He has a distinctive walk. I've never met another soul who moves like that.
I saw him. I always ran.
I've done that since 1988. It took me twenty years to get up the courage to talk to him. I did so out of pity. My old friend was obviously depressed.
I feel bad.
I have learned a lot from my experience re-visiting my first love.
My lesson from my zombie love is that love doesn't die. I'm terribly picky as to whom I share that gift with now.
I tried very hard not to let it sneak up on me this time but by the time I realized what was happening it was too late.
I don't know what will happen between my friend and I. I'm having severe trust issues and am hoping therapy will patch me up.
Maybe my new friend will find someone else.
I don't know.
I have to take things one day at a time.
After this stalking, abusive, threatening, lying bull crap I'm enduring, I think about love the same way some people approach haunted houses.
For some reason now, I equate love with terror.
Except when it comes to that first love. I guess I am lucky he kept things innocent for me. How lucky am I to have found one guy who wouldn't touch me despite all those raging teenage hormones and the ease of access a kilt provides?
I'm the luckiest woman alive, aren't I?
Wow....
I'm going to go out and buy a lotto ticket. If I win, I'll give 25%+ of what I end up with to a charity that helps stalking victims.
Maybe I still have some luck left.
Love ya,
S.