A Decade of Stalking and Control

One woman’s experience

A survivor shares what ten years of stalking, control, and surveillance really looks like - including how it can begin before a relationship is even fully formed, and the lasting impact it leaves behind.

Anonymous Submission

Most people assume stalking begins when you try to end an abusive relationship… in my case, it began before the friendship even properly got off the ground.  …I definitely wasn’t looking for love, but I was, without doubt, love-bombed into a relationship. He was an expert at it.

He followed the rules of love bombing to torturing to a T, and the stalking and close surveillance that followed  kept me trapped for ten crucifying years.

I can give you a master class in the control that saw me coerced into a life-altering cycle of abuse that began and ended with stalking…

The first I knew I was being followed was a few weeks into the friendship, just as the relationship was developing. We seemed to progress quickly despite me not wanting to . I kept applying the brakes. He kept pressing the gas... I honestly didn’t fancy him, but I’m ashamed to say his attention was nice.

When we first met, I was running away from love. I was still recovering from my husband leaving… but the monster I fell in love with was, in the beginning, so very kind and gentle that I felt my icy heart melting. Before I knew it, I was falling in love, and just  as the relationship was getting off the ground, I suspected he was somehow reading my text messages or able to see my phone calendar. Something was wrong, but I didn’t quite know what.

He knew stuff he shouldn’t and would message to say I shouldn’t  be friends with certain people for varying reasons after I’d had a lengthy phone or text conversation with them. That surely couldn’t be a coincidence.

Once, a male work colleague asked for a lift to a work night out as he lived very close by, and just after that, my abuser messaged to say don’t be offering lifts as it’s people taking advantage. Again, I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.

He turned up at lots of places I was going, but always gave a good reason for the coincidence.

I’d get back to my car from being with friends or a fitness class, and there would be flowers on the bonnet .. or chocolates .. but how did he know where I was and how did he know what flowers I liked and especially what brand of chocolate was my favourite so early in the relationship?

He’d ring within seconds of me getting to the car so then I assumed he was following me … he did do that too lots but mostly He was actually tracking me using Find My phone and had hacked my gmail account so he could see my emails booking classes /events so he knew where I’d be … he was sophisticated in that he hacked my passwords from my iCloud and he also put apps on my phone to read my messages. They went straight to his phone.

That was one of the ways he initially kept me tied to him. When I tried to end the relationship very early on, he threatened to reveal all the messages from my friends on the internet or my social media …Some messages were deeply personal to those friends and to me also, about marriage problems or financial stresses and worries, and I chose to put my friends' welfare  before mine. … I didn’t think it would lead me into a ten-year torture chamber with no means of escape.

One day, I found two apps on my phone that I didn’t recognise. I deleted one. He was on the phone immediately, asking what was up with my phone. I knew then he’d done something. But what?

I went to a phone shop to ask if someone could  be hacking into my phone. They said no. No way .. but I knew he must be. I just didn’t know how, and I couldn’t look it up on the internet because I knew he must be able to see what I was doing online. He said I shouldn’t ever use Firefox, Safari, or any other internet provider, and that Google was the safest. I later learned it was because he’d hacked my Google account, so he could keep track of any browser history too. Everything I asked Google. He saw. He got rid of my laptop. Said I wasn’t allowed one. I was only allowed to use a phone. This was my new life … I was a prisoner in the relationship, not a partner.

Friends said they saw him on multiple occasions throughout the relationship stood across the road from my house staring straight in, and he often asked people in my street if they’d seen any men  going into the house. Even when I asked for a night alone, he couldn’t keep away.

I often quizzed him about being in my village in the middle of the night. I knew he was, as I could hear his car … I got used to sleeping with my bedroom window slightly open so I could listen out for him.

I  still look outside when I get up in the night, expecting to see him stood outside. I expect to hear a key turn in the lock . He had multiple keys cut for my front door, and every time I asked him to leave and to give me my keys back, he always walked straight back into the house a few days later. No knocking. He just unlocked the door and walked in. It terrified me.

Getting a bath or shower still is hugely triggering, as he’d often walk in after I’d asked him to go while I was at my most vulnerable in the bathroom. … I maintain to this day that there were cameras hidden and footage never found. He always returned while I was naked in the bathroom. Always. … It took a hefty dose of therapy to be able to bath and shower again or shut my bedroom window. My nightmares were so vivid that I had to always have the window open, even years after he was in prison. It would be snowing outside, and my window would be left open.

My curtains still remain open all day and all night … I doubt I’ll ever get to the point that I can close them. I just need to be able to see out. To make sure he’s not stood outside … even though he’s in prison, my brain doesn’t comprehend that. My neighbours joke that I’m like neighbourhood watch.

I’m lucky if my baths or showers last longer than a few minutes. Even now. All these Years later, I do the minimum requirement… That’s the effects of stalking … I’m a sane, rational-thinking woman, but my brain is so conditioned to being tracked it still thinks it needs to find an escape route from the monster who sucked out my soul.

I’ve been free for a few years, but I still think I see him. In the early days, I once rang the prison to check he was still on remand as my brain was screaming at me that it was him I’d seen, and I needed to hide. I was on a beach, and I honestly thought I’d be safer running into the sea and drowning …

I was stalked for so long my brain can’t forget... the memories, although dulled, will always remain. The nightmares, although less violent, still haunt me every single night, and I wake sweating and look out the window to check I am safe.

I vividly remember the very moment I knew I was in trouble weeks into the relationship. I stalled my car at the traffic lights, and a car pulled very slowly into the lane beside me. I recognised the noise of the engine and looked … It was him. … he’d asked me during the day if he could see me. I’d said no, I was busy. I’d got the sense all day that I was being followed as I did all my little jobs … here was the proof … he brushed it off as a coincidence… my brain was screaming at me to not ignore  the signs … my heart was betraying me and falling for the constant  love bombing and gifts and promises of being loved so much he said he wanted to keep me safe and to make sure I was ok .. and despite my turmoil I was ensnared … Trapped.

I constantly got messages popping up on my phone saying a different device was accessing my iCloud. I’d message him. At first, he denied it was him. Gradually, when he was sure I was incapable of leaving, he’d demand access, or he’d disable my phone. Something he always threatened … it wasn’t long before I realised that not only was he tracking me. He was also somehow reading my messages and looking at my calendar on my phone to see where I might be. I tried to save notes about his torturous behaviour on my calendar in case I ever needed it as evidence if I could one day escape.

He found the notes and deleted them. So I tried again using past years, and he found them too. He always said he could doctor digital evidence, and I believed him. The police eventually had his phone held, so much fear for me as I wondered what he could fake to prove his innocence.

He always said if he killed me, he’d make it look like suicide, and he’d be able to destroy all evidence of the abuse I was buried under the weight of, and my family would never ever know.

He stalked every aspect of my life. I’d go to the hairdressers, and he’d be there despite me not telling him I had an appointment… I’d go for a pre-arranged coffee with a friend, and he’d be in the coffee shop even if we changed the meeting place at the last minute. I’d go to an exercise class, and he’d be walking out as I was going in. In the end, I was not allowed to the doctors or hairdressers without him being with me. He eventually got a hairdresser to come to the house, so I couldn’t go to a salon.

I couldn’t escape. I tried many times. The threats felt so real that I always took him back.

He often whispered in my ear that I’d only be safe within the relationship and not if I left, and nobody ever would believe me if I told them what was happening, and I gave up. I accepted my fate, knowing full well that if I wanted to stay alive, I’d do as I was told. I will always remember the day I decided that in order to stay alive, I had to stay shackled to a monster. From that day on, I lied about my relationship to stay alive. Nobody. Not one single person knew the extent of my suffering. To this day, nobody knows the  extent of the sexual  and mental abuse I suffered. I made my life seem rosy. To stay alive.

For years, I was tracked, stalked and harassed to give details of my whereabouts. I’ve hidden in ditches at the side of motorways, and I've jumped out of moving cars. I’ve crawled through woods and fields while he’s driven up and down the edge shouting for me to come out. I’ve hidden In Shop changing rooms and railway embankments. He always found me. The deep mental scars from those hide-and-seek events are the telltale signs that it definitely wasn’t a game.

I desperately tried to end the relationship so many times, but could never escape. He always found me, always reminded me that me constantly trying to end the relationship made the abuse worse, as it made him scared I was going to leave. So he said in order for him to stop tracking me, I had to stop asking him to leave. He didn’t let me go anywhere where I could maybe tell someone what was happening. So no doctors alone .. only allowed if he came too. He made me change doctors as the one I’d been with didn’t have a digital app. So he made me switch to a surgery that did so he could hack the app, and he downloaded my medical records and kept a check to make sure I never made an appointment.

He couldn’t bear me going to work and got part-time hours at the same place. He was charming and witty and I hated that people were falling for his charm. We’d get home, and I’d be tortured for hours because I’d spoken to a man he didn’t know.

He made me repeatedly change jobs. At one, he pulled the plans up for the entire building and timed how long it should take me to get home. I couldn’t  be a minute late. And the minute I got home, I had to explain with the maps out why I’d gone to different parts of the building. It was a barrage of questions, and if he didn’t believe the answers, his method of torture would be lengthy. Sex was his weapon. Before work. After work. … anywhere he wanted. Off the beaten track… woods… fields… coffee shop toilets .. If he felt I’d not be where he deemed I should be or took longer in a shop I’d be tortured. He timed everything.

I was finally saved in 2021 after a vicious weekend of violence and torture that spanned almost every room in my house. Physical violence wasn’t his usual style, although it did occasionally rear its head. The torture was almost always of a sexual nature. I actually thought this time was the last time and that I was going to die. I’ve never known a calmness as it washes over me. I knew I’d have to remain calm to escape.  I’ll never forget the thoughts. Can I fight him off? If I hurt him, he’ll be angrier, but I might stand a chance.... I managed to stay calm, and he was eventually arrested by a wonderful team of young officers who kept me safe that night.

I didn’t want to press charges. I just wanted him to leave me alone for good, however I still thought I’d have to take him back or he would kill me like he’d threatened many, many times. He put me in a choke hold most days and told me he only had to squeeze. If people were about he’d still do it, but would be jovial about it, but to me the threat was real.

I was terrified I’d die if I told the police. I gradually started to trust them, and the weeks after I finally escaped for good, I was at my most vulnerable. He followed me everywhere. The police worked hard to prove they could keep me alive with a monster hell-bent on harming me, following me everywhere, and they had to convince me that pressing charges would be my lifeline to freedom… All the stalking charities tell you to download an app so your family know that you’re home safe and where you are, but that would have been incredibly dangerous in my situation, as I had to disable all location services as he kept hacking my iCloud to find out where I was. It was a very scary, solitary time. Torn between wanting and needing my family to know I was safe, but knowing he would be watching my every move, and he was… I was so frustrated.

Leaving an abusive relationship is when the stalking becomes even more terrifying, yet he was never charged with it. Apparently, it never reached the charging threshold, and instead, he was charged with witness intimidation.

Once the police were involved, I was terrified to leave the house as I knew there was a very real possibility he was following me, and he was!! He repeatedly called my phone from multiple different numbers. I had to change my phone and my number.

He messaged on social media using multiple accounts. He followed me to work or waited outside for when I’d finished. All captured on CCTV. Again, he always had an excuse for being in those locations. I varied everything I did from where I parked the car to going on my bike or the bus  … even when work changed my shifts for me, he’d still be waiting somewhere. It was only when he was charged and on remand did I get some peace until the trial, sort of. They don’t stop trying.

Going to court is a whole new level of trauma. The police and victim support have to do their best to actually get you there but they also have to prepare you to some degree about how bad it will be… but let me tell you… that as a victim, standing up in court behind that curtain knowing the man who caused you so much pain and suffering and who clearly wants you dead is only meters away, is one of the most traumatising aspects of the whole journey. Nobody can prepare you for how life-changing that is. You’d never go to court if they did.

Terrifying and horrific is an understatement. Your whole life laid bare. His barrister is hell-bent on painting you as a liar and a slut. Seemingly wanting to destroy you, so his client walks free. It’s a relentless attack on your character, and if you think being stalked for years is a life sentence, well standing up in court in front of a judge with a jury scrutinising your every move and a barrister gunning to destroy you… that never leaves you. It tears you apart. Leaves you ashamed and suicidal. I’ve been asked many times if it’s worth it.

Freedom is most definitely worth it. Without a shadow of a doubt. My life now was worth the vile questioning. The lies that were told by his barrister. The vulgar questioning that leaves you feeling like you’re the one on trial... it all happens. It’s something I couldn’t talk about for a very long time. I didn’t dare open the box in my heart that had court written across it. I wondered if I’d ever be able to heal from the brutality of the trial.

I am also very lucky that I qualified for a free trial for sexual offence victims to get the judges' sentencing remarks for free. They were empowering and validating. Reading Judge’s sentencing remarks did so much to heal my pain. She saw through his lies, and the fact that she did propelled me forward on my healing journey. But seeking justice in the courts is a lengthy, painful task with repeated delays, and those who come forward to do so deserve respect. I was a victim of abuse, and in court I felt like I was on trial … the Crown Court staff supported me. Held me up. Went out of their way to protect me. His family kicking off in the corridors and grumbling in court. The staff shielded me from so much of it, but the fact remains, I was left feeling the abuse was my fault because of his barrister's questions and not one person can prepare a victim for that.

My abusive ex always said if I left him, he’d either kill me or make my life so unbearable I’d kill myself. He threatened that almost daily … Stalking has that lasting effect on you that if it wasn’t for victim support and the police, one of those outcomes was a very real possibility.

Death was something I often contemplated. Stalking doesn’t end when abusers are put in a cell. They just find new ways to do it. Stalking has a stranglehold on your life, and unless there are consequences, the noose just gets tighter and tighter. The justice system  must ensure it doesn’t get so tight that the victim feels it’s better to be dead.

Not every victim will be as resilient, determined and brave enough to fight for their freedom to live a happy, fulfilled life.

I know who I am. I now know who I am not, and I will strive to never be her again. I have spent a lot of time rebuilding myself after being torn to shreds, and one thing I know for sure is that my peace is not up for grabs. I’ve worked harder than most to achieve it, and I’ll not let it be destroyed again.

One of the cruellest nonphysical forms of domestic abuse is the isolation of a victim. Nowhere to turn. No friends to tell. You’re alone with a death sentence.

I used to have more life inside me. It was destroyed. My dreams got discarded along the way, but every day I fight to reclaim them. I’ll never stop trying. I refuse to sit and lick my wounds forever.

I’ve been fighting for survival since he started his campaign of terror and harassment. I’ve learned lessons from the experiences that I should never have had to face. I now live the most peaceful life and intend to continue to fight for a fairer justice system for future generations of victims.