Other people taught me that my experiences and perspectives are not normal and therefore neither believable nor valid. For me, to not be believed, is so painful. To be thought of as a crazy person who cannot help but to lie, was at one point, intolerable for me. Let me give you an example. My now ex-husband started stalking me after I left him. And after he found a new partner, whom he eventually married, the stalking and harassment increased because she was even more determined than he was.
I made a multitude of police reports. And then one day, I decided to go down to the sheriff’s department in person to demand that they do something. I sat at the desk of a deputy and told him my story after which he picked up his desk phone and dialed his supervisor. He gave him a synopsis of what I had just said. I don’t know if the deputy had the volume on his phone turned up too high or if the supervisor was just a loud talker. But either way, I heard everything the man said in response.
“What’s with this woman? Does she despise the new wife that much?“ Although my blood was boiling, I sat quietly as the conversation continued. After the deputy hung up the phone, I rose to my feet. I wasn’t going to give him a chance to dismiss me too. Before I left, I informed him in no uncertain terms that I had heard everything his superior said about me. Back then, I didn’t understand that I probably should’ve watered down the details of my stalking saga if I wanted to be believed. After all, most people don’t experience that level of harassment.
Around this same time, Cortez, my friend, lover and fellow nurse whom I had met at my first job out of school, also taught me that my story was not believable. When I told him about the things they did to me, he responded with disbelief. Eventually, he gave me a nickname which he used often, “paranoid schizophrenic.” From his perspective, there was no way my stories could be true. Therefore, I must be crazy. The pain of not being believed was far greater than the pain inflicted upon me by my stalkers and oppressors. And so I learned to mostly keep the abuse to myself.
I say mostly because I didn’t give up entirely. I went to the courthouse and filed harassment charges against the “new wife” as the supervisor had called her. By then, I had learned much about the legal system and I knew how to do a few things on my own. On the day of the hearing, the assistant district attorney called me to the front. I carried with me an over-sized multi-inch ring binder in which the dates and times of harassment were carefully documented. I referenced only the ones for which her involvement was indisputable or at least, beyond a reasonable doubt.
We only made it through the first few pages because the entries were copious. Eventually, the assistant district attorney picked up the fat binder and held it up over his head as he spoke to the judge. “Your honor, due to the sheer amount of evidence, I ask that you impose the maximum penalty upon the defendant.” He didn’t though. She cried and told the judge she was just trying to help her husband so he could see his kids. She received no punishment at all. The judge only issued a no contact or restraining order. That very same evening, she contacted me again.
I was almost but not quite done with the legal system at that point. Although nobody could seem to help me, at least the assistant district attorney had not only believed me, but had also went to bat for me. Let me say here that I thought long and hard before making public through my writing the actions of the other part of my children’s family. However, it has been more than twelve years since that day in court and I have watched both justice and forgiveness make it’s full circle since then. Therefore, I feel comfortable writing about it.
If you haven’t been reading the entries in order, then you won’t know that I am writing about my Chiron wound here in this segment. You can go back to Chiron In Aries, A Wound of Power & Identity. Or, better yet, you can start with the entry before that, Chiron & The Thumbscrew. You can also go back to the beginning.