Once upon a time I thought things were finally settling down. A couple days after my last big incident with D, he knocked on my door a few times, and I ran and hid in my bedroom like a scaredy-cat. I became angry with myself for being so ridiculous, but also angry at D for turning me into someone I wasn’t. I’m a person who travels the world on her own, and walks through red light districts at 2am with no fear. I’m not someone who hides in her bedroom because someone is knocking on her front door.

Anyway, I wouldn’t answer, and he kept coming, so I finally called the police. After hours of waiting, they finally showed up and told me I needed to file a protection from stalking order. They also said about half the time people file it angers the stalker and makes things worse, and about half the time it’s enough to make them stop. I did not love those odds. They also made a point of turning off their body mics to tell me that in the end, the PFS is just a piece of paper, and “Really you just need to get a gun. You saw how long it took us to get here tonight, that is not uncommon, so even if he does break the order and you call, you need to be able to protect yourself.” I don’t know why I felt so shocked by their comments, but I did.

I went back and forth on whether I should file or not, and ended up not. It just seemed like such a big hassle, and things had settled down since I had last seen him and shakily declared “I don’t think we should talk anymore.” and ran into my house in response to his “Are you still mad at me?” It had been a few weeks, so surely everything was fine now, and we could all live in peace.

But then a note showed up in my mailbox. A note so insane, I didn’t know what to do about it. Also, I didn’t really have time to do anything about it because I have been the busiest and most stressed out with work than I’ve ever been in my life. So once again, I did nothing.

And then a few days later another note showed up. And then another. And then my neighbor across the street would text me during work to tell me D was pacing up and down my driveway with another note. Oh, and then there was the yelling. He would stand in his window in his garage that faces my house, with the window down, and just scream at my house. I don’t think they were words really, more just angry, guttural screams.

The notes were becoming so frequent, that last week, when I finally had a day off work, I went down to the courthouse to fill out the 19 page document required for a PFS order. My neighbor said she saw a police officer on our street today, so we assume he got served today - I was told it would be today or Thursday. Some signs have started popping up in his window instead of my mailbox.

I honestly have no clue what the signs mean, but I’m pretty sure he’s hearing voices or living in some sort of fantasy world. Either way, I go to court next week (I’m hoping he just doesn’t show up), so send me good vibes, and pray this ends for real. Fingers crossed that this is the last D update!