When We Call Out Our Stalkers and Domestic Abusers | By Claire Cappetta


I have written many posts in the past when my blog- ging 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 some- times 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 driv-


ing, 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.


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