So I broke my own cardinal rule of how to avoid having your life turned to shit by stalkers .

I’ve been avoiding them (my douchtastic mom, Kid’s fuckwad dad) for many many years. I follow Gavin de Becker’s advice from Gift of Fear, and normally I refuse to acknowledge any contact. Emails go to my spam box. My phone number is unavailable. My twitter, blogger, facebook all have them blocked. Somehow mom still manages to get around these blockings, but wevs. I’m not spending my whole life trying to figure out what crappy thing she’s gonna do next.

But my douchetastic mother is a fucking crafty ass nugget. She keeps sending presents to the Kid. Presents he doesn’t want. Things that he gets no joy from, hasn’t requested, and is generally annoyed by their existence. This is a form of abuse. The gifts are meant to instill a socially programmed sense of obligation on the recipient. Serial killers use this tactic to get women to trust them. “Oh hi lady, let me carry that grocery bag for you, I insist” right before they throw you in the trunk of their car.

I refuse to let the Kid become a victim of that kind of manipulation out of politeness.

So now she is teaming up with Kid’s fuckwad dad. Seriously. It’s like a manipulative stalker convention. They’re friends now. I can’t even imagine that. If someone hurt my kid, the only thing they’d get from me is a giant hole where their throat used to be. If someone neglected my grandchild, (hypothetical grandchild- I’m not that OLD yet) the only thing they’d get from me is a job application delivered with a swift kick in the ass.

So I am pissed (see violent imagery above). And I sent a rather pissy email backing saying exactly the same shit, minus the violence, above.

Stupid, stupid, stupid stupid. I gave her fucking fuel for her obsession. I should have just left it. I know that there is a huge difference between justice and safety and that often you can only choose one. I know that safety is usually the better route. I know all this shit. And still, still.

Stalking is a long fucking game. The Kid is about to be 15 (hence yet another round of inappropriate and and unasked for “gifts” meant to instill a sense of obligation). So i’ve been dealing with his dad on and off for oh 14 years-ish. And this was the first time I have contacted my mother in 7 years. Over all, that’s a pretty good no-contact record. But one little fuck up and they’re back. It’s like lice.

All I want if for the Kid to grow up peaceful and happy and without abuse, physical or emotional, and for me to be free of these asshats so that I can concentrate on more important things like finishing this damn novel I’m writing. That’s all. It’s not a big thing to ask. Really. To just be left alone, that is all.

The good news is- one more year and the Kid can get his passport. One more year. I’m thinking France would be good, what with their new laws against psychologically terrorizing someone. A girl can dream………….