Blog challenge · Blogging · Daily Prompt · Mi Vida Loca · nonfiction · postaday · Stories of my life · writing

Daily Prompt: Release Me

Daily Prompt: Release Me

Tell us about the blog post you were most nervous to publish — and what it was like to set it free.


Well the very first post was the scariest. I had never blogged before, nor had I ever written anything for public consumption.

All of my writing was done for myself. In journals or notebooks, even on the odd scrap of paper I would write my thoughts and stories to be read by me alone.

I’ve always wanted to write books. Novels to be read by millions of people. Wouldn’t that be a thrill? I’m a bit more realistic about the millions but having people read what I write and enjoy it still is a thrill.

After the first blog post I got a little braver. Then I felt the need to write about my abusive ex-husband and his stalking of me. I had never told anyone the whole truth. Not sure I could do it even now. Maybe because I was afraid? Embarrassed? A bit of both actually. But I had to tell the story.

My family didn’t know all of what went on in my 13 year marriage. They all disliked my ex, as he was a liar, thief and worse. I don’t think they ever thought about what I might have gone through or was going through those years I was with him. They have a habit of burying their heads in the sand when there are things to deal with they don’t like.

It’s also much easier to think I was a part of all his schemes then to think I was more his victim than anyone. It’s sad to say, but it was and is easier to paint me as the bad guy than it is to think of me as helpless to stop what he did.

If anyone is interested and hasn’t read it before that part of my life is in a three-part series I wrote almost a year ago called “I was a Stalking Statistic”. Part one, Part two, Part three.

As for how I felt after I wrote it and hit that dreaded ‘publish’ button? I felt scared. Isn’t that silly? I felt scared. I was scared no one would believe me. I was scared he would find me again. I was scared to have people think less of me.

Than when none of those things happened. When everyone was sympathetic and kind and supportive. I got over being scared. I was happy I finally got it out there. I haven’t written about those 13 years of marriage per se. I have alluded to them now and again. But it was the aftermath of my leaving that has stayed with me more in a strange kind of way.

Royalty-Free Stock Photography by Rubberball
Royalty-Free Stock Photography by Rubberball

There is one more post that I haven’t written. Why? I didn’t think the time was right, yet. It was a dark time in my life, when it should have been some of the happiest. I’ve written bits and pieces here and there about it. I haven’t written expressively about it though.

My childhood. My dark childhood where I was sexually abused for years. I haven’t written that. It’s eating at me though. It’s telling me it’s almost time to write that story. Soon enough I will. For now that skeleton is staying firmly in the closet. But I hear it scratching to be let out.

Blog challenge · Blogging · Daily Prompt · Mi Vida Loca · nonfiction · postaday · Stories of my life

Daily Prompt: Keep Out

Daily Prompt: Keep Out

by michelle w. on July 9, 2013

Who is the one person you hope isn’t reading your blog? Why?


I would have to say the #1 person I hope isn’t and never does read my blog is my ex. If  he reads my blog then he would know where I am. I don’t think he can get into Canada, but I’m not positive. Knowing him he would BS his way to crossing the border. I have no idea if he has a passport. I have no idea if Canada would let him in. Depends on if he was able to talk the officials into deleting any criminal records. Knowing my ex, he would get it done.


Even after years of living in Canada, I still am very vigilant about my surroundings. I scout out parking lots at stores, I glance at any passing vehicle. I find myself still, though I hate it, looking to see if my ex shows up. After being stalked for years, you get into habits. These habits I’m not willing to break. At least not just yet.

The other people I hope not to read my blogs is my family. My mother, my 2 brothers and even my sister. Now most people wouldn’t mind their family reading their blog. They don’t have my family. It’s not that I’m not proud of my blog. I am. Both of them. (My food blog at )

My family is and always has been super critical of me and anything I do. They all disliked my ex. Well after the divorce anyway. My brothers didn’t mind partying at strip joints with him when they lived with me for short periods of time. Now of course they all have selective memories. It’s amazing how that works.

They all for some reason associate me with my ex. They seem to think that they know what went on behind closed doors. They seem to think they know what went on in my marriage, even though they hardly talked to me and lived across country. Now, they still bring up stuff that has more to do with my crazy ex than me. I certainly couldn’t control the man. Amazing they think I was just like him, or worse. But then they have always been quick to judge me, and not for the good.

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Do I sound bitter? Yeah, maybe just a tad. It was just last month my younger brother wrote something bad on one of my blogs. My tribute to my Dad. I trashed it of course. But it hurt like hell. Why attack me when all I did was talk lovingly about my Dad? I don’t understand that at all. I just spoke the truth. I guess after some of what they did to me the truth bothers them. Ah well. Tough to be them I suppose.

Anyway, I don’t like being bitter. So I usually shrug it off. My family is what they are. I leave them alone and hope they leave me alone. Good thing I have good friends who know me and know what happened during my marriage to my ex. They know the truth, my family just guesses.

Maybe they should read my blog. Maybe they should find out some of what was happening to me back then. But they won’t. So I’m now letting it go. Thank you readers for putting up with my little bit of bitterness. I’m flushing it now. Back to smiling again.



Mi Vida Loca · nonfiction · writing

I Was a Stalking Statistic

This post is part of my series “Mi Vida Loca”. Believe me, it doesn’t get any crazier (or scarier)  then being a stalking victim. I was one. For five years.

My story starts with me moving from Wisconsin to Texas. I was young and naive. My younger brother lived there and convinced me to move down to be with him. Him and I were always close when we were younger and so I went.

Soon after I moved there I met my future stalker. My future husband. My future abuser. And my future ex-husband. They were all the same man. My story starts like a lot of stalker stories. I fell in love. *L, was a sweet talker. One of those big cowboy types. At 6 foot 2 and 250 pounds he was way bigger then my 5 foot, 130 pounds. But, he showered me with attention, compliments and presents.  It was something I wasn’t used to. I didn’t date, I was too busy working and then burying my head in a book. At that time of my life I was terribly shy. So I suppose I was easy pickings for a man like *L.

Marriage (Photo credit: Lel4nd)

Soon after, we were planning our wedding. Looking back, boy was I stupid! I saw so many signs that I should have heeded. A few people even tried to talk me out of the marriage. One was *L’s own father! That should have told me something was wrong. But, I was in love for the first time in my life. So I shut the outer and  inner voices off. We got married. And that was the start of my road down to hell.

It started almost from the day after we were married. The controlling, the belittling remarks. The violent outbursts of temper. It was like as soon as we signed those wedding papers he changed. The mask was off. I wasn’t really scared yet. More confused than anything. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. Because he told me it was all my fault. I made him lose his temper.

He didn’t hit me. Oh no! That might leave marks that couldn’t be explained. What he would do is crowd me against the wall, yelling in my face with this giant booming voice. Then he would smash his fist through the wall next to my head. We had lots of holes in the walls of our house that I tried to hide with pictures and things on the wall.

There were times I had enough and I would threaten to leave him. Those were the times he would be that sweet, kind, gentle man I knew in the beginning. He would promise not to yell at me anymore. Promise not to use his fists on the walls. Promise me the world. And I, still wanting to believe in him, would take him back.

I had a job when I first met *L. It wasn’t a great job, but it paid the bills. He convinced me to quit. He had a good job that paid well and he promised me he would take care of me. Little did I know at the time it was just another way to control me. After about six months of just being a stay at home wife, I got bored. So I got another job. It didn’t last long. *L would call 10 – 15 times a day to talk to me. It got to the point he would call so often checking up on me that I was told that if *L didn’t stop calling I would have to leave. Well, I told *L this and he exploded! He yelled that it was my fault! That I made him do it because I couldn’t be trusted! Another fist eventually went through the wall next to my head.

I had to leave that job, and a few more through the years. During those years I didn’t notice till it was too late just how isolated I was. *L had been so rude, so obnoxious to my family that they eventually stopped calling me. I had no friends, except for Terri. We pretty much kept our friendship away from *L. Terri hated *L, and always said that I should leave him. Unfortunately, by that time I had been married to *L for more then ten years. And was pretty much convinced I had nowhere to go. I certainly didn’t have any money. He kept control of the finances at all times.

During 13 years of marriage I was not only verbally abused, emotionally stripped. *L also cheated on me numerous times. He would tell me, I forced him to cheat. He stated he cheated because I wasn’t woman enough to keep him home.

I lost 4 babies during those years. I never could carry them past 10 weeks. He constantly threw that up at me also. Telling me, I wasn’t even good enough to have a baby. Secretly I was glad I couldn’t have children. I know it sounds cold and terrible. But, my thoughts were always about what a terrible father, he would have been. I didn’t want any children of mine to be subject to that.

What finally made me leave was he hit me one day after calling me every name in the book. He hit me and when I tried to call my sister for help to finally get away from him he pulled the phone out of the wall and locked me in a bedroom for 3 days. I pretended to comply with his demands on being quiet and not to call family so he would let me out.  But my mind and my heart were finally convinced to leave him for good. I had enough. It happened on a July Fourth weekend. He was out boating with his new girlfriend. I sat at home and just became numb. I called Teri and told her I was packed and ready to leave, could she come get me. She must have broken speeding limits she was over so fast. She took me and my one suitcase to her house and that’s where I stayed for the first 2 weeks after I left.

That was the end of my marriage and the beginning of my stalking nightmare.

*L is just a letter because I hate saying his name. Superstitious maybe, but better safe then sorry.

***I will continue this post tomorrow. That will be about the stalking. Right now I’m emotionally exhausted, but glad I finally got it out.

July (Photo credit: kurafire)