Surviving Abuse and Stalking: My Journey of Healing and Resilience

It’s been 5 years since the night that I finally left my abusive ex boyfriend who later become my stalker for years after. Even now I still get random accounts he creates with a different names sending message requests through DMs claiming how sorry he feels about what he did; yet failing to actually say the words. Saying things like “I don’t think of you in a toxic manner but in admiration of you” and then listing things that have happened to him so that I feel sorry. I don’t look at abusers with hate but instead, like I did with my ex; I feel sorry that they learned such behaviors from growing up in toxic environments. Devin is a smart man, he’d have a psychology degree like me if he hadn’t ruined things for himself. I always loved how he over analyzed behavior; which ironically is what I do for a living now. Perhaps that’s why I fell in love with him. It wasn’t until after I left that I understood why he loved movies like Pulp Fiction, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and absolutely obsessed with Freddie Mercury. Humans are natural attention seekers and Devin desperately wanted to be the main character. Of course, the violence he seen his mother endure from his father, who later got out of jail after we broke-up, didn’t exactly set a good example of a perfect love story. Surprisingly enough, those are words the judiciary ruled that he was just “a young boy in love” and denied my request for a restraining order. The second time we went into court, I found a lawyer who works closely with the 10% Latinx community in my small redneck town. He stated that “the courts here all old white men who want young low income men like Devin to get their life together” but he made sure that the judge knew the truth. Because of course, like a typically psychopathic narcissist would, he attempted to file a restraining order on me. Luckily I had enough police reports on record of public and campus stalking incidents against him as the college I went to at the time did a whole title IX investigation on the matter. I used to say that the stalking was worse than the abuse during the relationship; but the truth is, reliving it all through my healing process was worse. I would hide at families homes he’d never heard of and even be with family from different states just to escape him. Everywhere I drove, he would find me, at my job, church, and even my little cousins graveyard. I relocated homes but even then he found me. When I transferred to university, I told no one. Unfortunately, my biggest escape from him was numbing the pain and memories of the abuse by smoking marijuana. I was self medicating my anxiety because I knew my amygdala was damaged. So, you could imagine how much of my experience I was reliving in my brain when I finally stopped using weed. The amount of stress my brain induced from being in a state of survival while being with him caused me to constantly live in fear after it was all over. Devin never left me a black eye or took alcohol rage out on me. He didn’t need substances to yell at my face or push me into a glass table while his niece was in the room. He reenacted movie characters when he was violent with me. He isolated me from my friends by making me believe they were calling me names like Oompa Loompa when he himself would call me a wetback. Devin would make me cry and then tell me to stop hugging myself because it was “making me feel bad” as he’d say. I learned to stop praying because he’d start laughing and say “you talking to your imaginary friend again?” Devin always thought I was cheating on him, which is why’d he’d always be with me, at school or outside my lecture halls. No other man could sit with or look at me and if I dressed nice or wore make-up it was “because you’re trying to look good for someone” he claimed. Of course the physical things came later on, the first few months he played Prince Charming as they usually do. Soon, leaning his hand on my seat as we drove and “accidentally” pulling my hair quickly turned into a “get the fuck out of the car!” and I’d be left miles away from my home and walked. He later on would end up punching my arm and leaving a huge bruise while I drove because some guy I didn’t know messaged me on Instagram. I still recall the day and the emotions I felt when he reminded me of this message, shouting I was cheating, and drenched a whole 20 liter soda on me, yelling at me to clean myself up as I cried. The physical abuse didn’t compare to being restrained from leaving his room or being completely stripped from any contact with my family. I have a vivid memory of our first night together. No ones hug has ever matched his. It was as if we were two puzzle pieces meant to be together. The stupid tight spandex Freddie Mercury costume mixed with the smell of bonfire and Coors banquet as this man snuck into my room. I do believe we were in love, and unlearning that love has been such a journey. My mental health suffered greatly from this experience and I am still healing. I don’t wish the worst for Devin, every day I pray that he finally gets the help and support he deserves. By Survivor