I have written many posts in the past when my blogging home was Wordpress about my journey from abuse. It has been an incredible journey of discovery of laughter, tears and a lot of hair pulling and sometimes just gentle baby steps. I started just writing it all down, which turned into a book, A Broken Ring. I released A Broken Ring because I thought it might help someone, somewhere, who felt the same way I had.
On my journey, I found many people, men, and women who were also on their journeys, just like me. When I was abused in the past there were no computers, now I’m showing my age, giggles. There were no forums, no Facebook or Twitter. It was a lonely, frightening and secluded place to be.
As far as family, no-one I knew had a mother like mine, who was narcissistic and manipulative to the extreme. She was totally unsupportive, in fact, a lot of the times she just made it worse. She remarried a few years ago and I don’t even know her last name now. I have been full blown No Contact now for over four years. I do think of her, I think it’s sad we can’t have a relationship, any kind of relationship. I wasn’t looking for a perfect one, no family is perfect, let’s face it even the Waltons had problems!
There really wasn’t any charity support system out there then, when I had problems with my “Stalker” my ex-boyfriend, my support was a friend called Chrisie, who basically saved my life, I love her still with all my heart. As friends go she is beautiful, strong, courageous and loyal. The stalker is “Jack” in my second book was based on “Stalking Liberty”. After our relationship ended it became a nightmare, in the truest sense of it all. Yes, he stalked me, everywhere I went.
He was always two cars behind me when I was driving, or parked down the road a little when I was at home. He slept in his car for four months. He phoned constantly, left notes. It was terrifying, or so I thought until he held me hostage for a week, at knife point, which became even more terrifying. He threatened to kill both me and my children with a kitchen knife. The kitchen knife he rarely relinquished, unless I was tied to the kitchen chair.
It finally came to an end when I convinced him I loved him. I told him what he needed to hear. He had been close, holding my face, all through the days and nights, repeating of how only death would separate us. I told him in the end I loved him that he was right and that only death would be the thing that separated us. He finally let me go. He untied me from that wretched kitchen chair…
It’s too long a story for here today, but I did have him arrested and he was found guilty, and “Bound Over” for a year, meaning he wasn’t allowed near me.
All this time I have referred to him as Jack, the name I gave him in Stalking Liberty or “My Stalker” in social media posts, blogging etc. I have come to a point now where I’m done. I feel now
I have reached a point in my journey, where I wonder why I’m shielding this man. This man who destroyed and dismantled my life so utterly and completely. He shredded it like paper, into tiny pieces, cost me relationships, friendships, stability, thousands financially, hell! He cost me, my children!
Now, I know many survivors have to remain quiet, about where they live, about a name change, a new identity, the list goes on and I understand completely why they do. My hat goes out to them, they are strong and courageous. They made it! We made it! We are still alive and trust me that in itself is a beautiful thing.
I don’t have to hide, I realized the other day when it hit me like a brick, I don’t have to shield this man, protect him, his identity, who he is. Ann Moulds of Action Scotland Against Stalking told me she named her stalker, straight out. I honestly was surprised at the time. Ann named her stalker, that simple. Her stalker has a name and she was brave enough to call it out, and she did, she called it out everywhere and still does. Why? Because she can. I have realized I can too.
So here I go, (deep breath)…
My stalker was and is called Ashley Craig Geddes and he lives in Yorkshire still. He still as far as I know holds down a job. He still has his family. He has lost nothing, no relationships, no financial loss. His life has carried on as if none of it happened. Sure, he was found guilty, yes his record should be tainted with it, but as far as I know he is still working on masts. You know those masts, the ones on police stations with satellite dishes, commuting messages through the airwaves. The tall masts that send signals for cells phones etc. It was my understanding he had to have a clean record to do it, but as far as I am aware he’s still doing it… While he lives at home with his father and his girlfriend…
If you are in a place where you can’t name your abuser, I hope one day, further down the lane of your personal journey, you get to a point in life, where you feel safe enough to call out their name. Just like I did and when you do, call it from the rooftops because abuse has to stop! It has to be stopped and there are a few us who can start calling out our stalkers. No longer hiding in fear, shame or guilt. I feel released, his name is now out there...
Have you called your abuser out?
Do you hope one day you might be able to?