Stalkers. The other side of beauty.

If ever you’ve lived or been involved with a stalker, you know it’s not fun.

It’s a terrifying experience, really … the exertion of total control imposed by another upon your self, safety and sense of movement in the world.

Frightening are the stalker’s utter lack of boundaries and recognition of you as a separate individual given by life a supposedly inviolate right to … breathe.

Stalkers are sneaky. Subversive. Scary. Like socks, stalkers come in a variety of sizes, shapes and shades. While their modus operandi, tactics and dramas playing out in their heads are uniquely their own, they have in common those traits of: deep need to control; failure to recognize or respect another’s personhood; inability to recognize or abide by boundaries.

And they do take away another’s breath.

Not in the sense of exhilaration upon seeing a beautiful sunset … a child born … a symphony performed … a puppy dog wagging its tail …

Breath constricted from living in fear of the unpredictability and irrationality and danger that stalkers introduce into their subjects’ lives.

I reckon that most of you have not been stalked so cannot easily identify or relate with the experience. It’s one experience to be stalked exteriorly (i.e., followed to the house, the workplace) and another within the home.

There’s something inherently more terrifying to, say, have a knife held to your throat while you’re in your home than away from it. There’s a violation of personal primitive sanctity that’s a challenge to describe but readily comprehended by a segment of the population experienced with internal and external violations and attacks.

I think that if you asked most people whether they’d rather be mugged in the home or parking lot, they’d say the latter without being able to articulate the reason. That’s instinct speaking.

This seems like a good stopping place. To close on a brighter note, a drawing from my (thumb-sized) angel cards:

Beauty

A message of the beauty in life and in self and be in gratitude that another’s ugliness is not yours and is to be moved away from. Not endured, neither managed. Angel Beauty speaks of the colors of life and self.

Stalking, its ugliness and darkness, is the other side of beauty.
It’s absolutely appropriate that I be moving.

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