Number One Returns...

This blog is a follow up to "1, 2, 3...no, not Britney", specifically about number One (that later became my stalker). After his attack of me last year, he was arrested and was supposed to serve 6 months in jail. However, our judicial system decided that he met the criteria of a "reformed" individual and released him early in January. I had a temporary restraining order in place before he was arrested, so when he was released I completed the process to make the restraining order permanent.

They released him on probation until the end of April, which was the original end of his sentence. I figured if he was really reformed he would keep his distance, but I was doubtful to say the least. I didn't really have any encounters with him for a while. I did see him once or twice and he actually saw me, but would change his direction. I thought that was a good sign that he was actually respecting the restraining order.

Then in early April I woke up one morning and found a letter under my door that was from him. The letter asked for my forgiveness and expressed that he was reformed and realized that he had lost control and did some really bad things, but that he had worked through all those problems in jail and worked with a psychologist. It was all just words and nonsense to me. I immediately reported it to the police, following the instructions of the restraining order. It seems like a small thing and didn't cause me any harm, but I think that's the problem with people that have been a victim or are a victim of a stalker...they don't report it enough! I wasn't leaving any doors open for him to cause me any more drama!

I was informed that he received a warning in regards to the letter he left for me, but he wasn't fined and it wasn't considered a violation of his probation, because there was no evidence to suggest he was actually on the premises to leave the letter and while written communication is also part of the restraining order, it did not contain and threatening remarks. Again, the justice system shines again! I ignored his letter, which is what I learned to do in counseling.

I didn't hear from him after that and I thought he was backing off since he knew I reported it and I was serious. However, just a few days ago I had another encounter. I went down to the lobby in the evening to check my mail. My lobby has this sitting area and the mail room is just at the end of that. We don't have a permanent person in the lobby, but usually have security patrolling after 7pm. When I went down I saw a man sitting on one of the couches. When I took a second look I saw it was number one. He saw me and smiled. I asked him what he was doing there and he said "don't get all worked up, I'm here waiting for a friend, not to see you. Don't go reporting this like you did the last time." I told him it wasn't okay to be in my building regardless of the reason and the restraining order requires him to stay off the premises, including the surrounding area, and he needed to leave immediately. He told me that I needed to learn how to forgive people and stop being so judgmental and cold. Then he said "if it makes you feel better, I'll go outside and wait for him, but like I said don't go reporting this." He got up and walked towards me and tried to hug me. I pulled back and he just gave me this disgusting smile, which made my skin crawl a little. Then he went outside. I immediately called the police and reported the violation.

This time he was picked up and taken to the station for the offense. However, they just fined him $500 and still did not consider it a violation of his probation. So he didn't serve and time and was released after he paid his fine. Thanks again justice system!

On Tuesday I came home and I was baking a cake for a celebration at work the next day. As the cake was baking, I decided to go down and check my mail again. I realize I had a pretty consistent pattern in checking my mail in the evenings, which made it easy for him to figure out my routine (that's a lesson learned!). Anyway, as I went downstairs, I didn't see anything in the lobby, but honestly I wasn't really looking. I went into the mail room and retrieved my mail. As I exited back into the lobby, number one was right in front of the door and waiting for me. He was angry. He immediately yelled at me and called me a "bitch" and then told me I owed him $500 for my bullshit report of him violating the restraining order. He was walking towards me in a very threatening way and backing me towards the front door of my building. I remained confident and forceful with him and I told him he brought it on himself and it was his own actions that caused that fine. I told him he was only making things worse for himself and I was going to report this incident as well. He was getting really angry and told me that I drove him crazy and he wasn't going to put up with it anymore. I told him to leave immediately or he was going to find himself right back in jail. I remained calm but forceful with him the whole time. I became assertive and walked in his direction to go past him and to the elevator to get back to my place. However, as soon as I took a step towards him he pulled up his shirt and revealed he had a gun.

I didn't show fear, although I was really scared, and I told him that he was making a big mistake and that he couldn't reverse what he was about to do and he would be throwing his life away for good. He lunged at me with his hand near his side by the gun. So, I quickly turned and bolted out the front door and ran towards the courtyard (which requires a FOB to enter). I ran into the courtyard and pulled the gate shut. He was right behind me and as I ran toward the other side I saw him enter (he must have still had his FOB). He ran towards me and then I ran back the other way, but I couldn't escape past him and he yanked my arm pulling it hard (it almost felt like it was dislocated) and then he punched me. It happened really fast. When he hit me it felt like my eye exploded. It was incredibly painful. I reacted by kicking him as hard as I could so he would let go of my arm and I could get away. I ran back out of the courtyard and to my building to get back to my condo.

I got off the elevator and ran to my door and pulled the door shut and locked it. I heard him right behind me. He fired his gun in the hallway and I realized he was really out of control and could really hurt me at that point. I ran out to the balcony and luckily there were a lot of cops down below because of the Padres game. I shouted out that there was a man with a gun on the 3rd floor and he was firing at my door. One cop reacted immediately. I saw him run towards my building and I heard number one fire a second shot, which put a hole in my door. My heart was pounding and for the first time I thought he was going to kill me.

Almost immediately after the second shot, the officers were already on my floor and screaming at him to drop the gun. He didn't resist, he dropped the gun, and he got on the floor and they handcuffed him.

He is back in jail, but sadly it seems he will only get 90 days. Apparently, discharging his weapon in public isn't assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, or any other serious charge. He was only charged with possession of a concealed weapon and public disturbance. He also was charged with battery for hitting me. The system is seriously flawed when a person can do all of that and only go to jail for 90 days.

I won't give up on getting justice though. As long as he continues to stalk me I will continue to report it and attempt to get justice. I have to believe justice will prevail eventually.

I refuse to let anyone make me live in fear or in confinement because they can't control their own actions. I'm stronger than that and I'm stronger than him.

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

If you are going to ride with me...wear good shoes and push!

I was pretty proud of my first car. For one, I worked really hard to save up for a car and for two, I thought it was a pretty cool ride! Looking back, maybe I would rethink that second statement. It was a '76 Toyota Pickup and it was a bright baby blue with red windshield wipers, side mirrors, and license plate covers. I thought it was the greatest truck ever!

I was one of the first people among my group that had a car, so I was the one that did most of the driving. I didn't mind, I loved to drive! I think my little truck might have minded though, because after I had it for about a year, the reverse went out. Yes, the reverse. I didn't know it was possible to lose reverse entirely!

The only way for me to back up was to use my feet! I had to try whenever possible to park on a hill or an incline to get some kind of boost in backing up, because if I was on a level surface or slightly downhill, it was REALLY hard to back up with my one foot! I was always grateful to have a passenger, because I could put them to work.

My car affectionately got nicknamed the "Flintstone Truck" since I had to use my feet to backup! It was embarrassing. People would always be looking at me when I would get in my car and then stick my foot out and start pushing it back. I remember once I was at the mall and it was a busy mall day, so people were stalking you when you left to get your parking space. I got into my car and had to start pushing to get out of my space and it was a challenge to get it going, and the car waiting started honking at me and screaming at me from their window. It was awful! All I could say was "I don't have reverse, please stop honking!! It's not my fault!!"

There were a few times I couldn't get it to move by just using my foot, so I would have to get out and try to push it back with all my might. And once or twice I nearly lost control of it doing that. There was one time I was pushing from the outside and then when it got its momentum I had to run and jump in to stop it from getting away from me.

You might ask why I didn't just get the reverse fixed, but when I got an estimate, it turned out getting it fixed would cost almost as much as the car did! My Subway wages weren't going to allow for that.

As more of my friends got cars, less and less people wanted to drive with me. Anyone that would take a ride from me knew they would get a workout. I didn't think that was necessarily a bad thing.

The good and the bad of it was that my left leg got really strong...but the bad was that my left leg bulked up while my right leg stayed the same. It wasn't a pretty look!

I still have fond memories of the Flintstone truck. He will forever be my first!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

Camping trip from hell!

It was circa 1995 and I was approaching the last of my high school years when me and several of my friends decided it would be great to go on a camping trip to the beach. I loved camping, my family was very much into it, but we had never camped at a campsite or anywhere near the beach. We were hardcore campers...roughing it, no electricity, no toilet, just nature. So, this was going to be like luxury camping to me!

It was me, Tony, Sherleen, and Alana. I still can't remember why we invited Alana exactly. It has been a while, so my memory may not be the best (calling on Tony to fill in the details!!). Alana wasn't exactly the easiest person to get along with. I mean, she was nice enough, but she could be like nails on a chalkboard sometimes. Her personality could easily clash with others. I think there must have been a reason though. Maybe she secured the campsite for us?? I had a lot of the camping equipment and I had my truck to load everything into, so that wasn't it. Alana had a car too, and she must have drove, because otherwise we wouldn't have left her there like we did (to be explained later).

I was excited for the trip and I packed Tony and Sherleen into my truck and we hit the road for the beach. When we got there, I think we set up camp, and then hit the beach. I don't really recall what the temps were, but it was the summer and the sun was definitely out in full force. To get to the beach we had to kind of climb down this sand hill. I remember thinking, this is much easier to get down then it's going to be get back up...but that didn't matter, I just wanted to hit the beach!

The concept of sunscreen was obviously foreign to me, because I don't think I used any, and if I did it was definitely not enough! We were on the beach for a while and I think I even fell asleep for a little bit (or maybe a long bit!). By the end of the day several of us (myself, Tony, and Sherleen) were all a little bit red. Plus, we had to crawl our way back up the sand bank to get back up to camp. This was a little bit easier for Tony and Sherleen I'm sure, but for me I was slightly challenged (being twice their size!). I remember crawling and then sliding back down and trying over and over again. I thought for sure I would die on that beach!

It wasn't long after we got back to camp before we realized we were pretty badly sunburned. It wasn't your average mild burn, we were in severe pain. Luckily, Sherleen had some lotion or aloe with her that we were passing around our camp circle trying to get any relief we possibly could. The burn was so bad that it hurt to breath, blink, turn, anything. We were miserable. We couldn't do anything! Alana was the only one that didn't get burnt. She was annoying the hell out of us because she wanted to do stuff and we were all too burnt to even think about doing anything!

The idea of spending the night in a tent and on the ground when our bodies were burnt to a crisp was a miserable thought. We contemplated just packing up and ending the trip early. I think we may have mentioned this in front of Alana, which caused an argument. Alana went psycho that night and threatened to take a bottle of pills and kill herself. When she found out we decided to leave she threatened to kill herself and then threw the pills into the fire after having a crazy fit. We were also there with someone else who was on Alana's side (I feel like her name was Tami). Alana then grabbed my lantern and threw it into the fire and blew it up!

It was not the fun camping trip we were looking forward to! We just wanted to die. It wasn't like we just had a little burn on our arm or leg, we were walking fire! Our faces, legs, arms, bodies....lobsters! All we could do was take comfort in each others misery. The only one that didn't understand that was ALANA!

We came up with a plan to pack up our stuff and sneak out of camp in the middle of the night and go home! We figured Alana could stay or go as she wished, but we couldn't take it anymore.

While Alana was asleep, we quickly packed up my truck and gathered up our stuff. We wanted to get the hell out of there and we didn't want to wake Alana and face another meltdown or suicide threat! Thank goodness the pills were in the fire!

We frantically pulled it all together and piled into the cab of my truck (which btw only sits 2 legally) and we bolted out of there. It was such a relief to know we were headed home where we could bath in aloe or lotion and find some temporary relief to our throbbing lobster bodies! Sure, we felt bad that we left her there in her psycho fragile state and abandoning our trip, but no one could understand our pain! Plus, we were all a little scared at that point. I think as we pulled away, we were all looking back in fear that she might be following us. The adrenaline was running high that night.

After the trip there was some ill feelings with Alana, but we could have expected that. There was some high school drama of me threatening her over the lantern and being compensated for it. I wrote her some nasty and threatening notes about the lantern and I think I threatened suing her or having my parents come after her?! It was all drama! She did finally compensate me for the lantern. After all she did blow it up in her fit of psycho rage!

I often wonder what Alana is doing today. I don't think I really talked to her much after the camping trip from hell. Thankfully, I did keep in contact with Tony and Sherleen and we share our traumatic memories of the camping trip from hell! I think just the mention of it makes any one of us shudder. One positive out of the nightmare, is that it taught me a lesson about sunscreen and I never want to inflict that kind of pain on myself again! The other valuable lesson, is never bring a slightly mentally unstable individual on a camping trip...it will surely end bad!

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!

I always wanted a brother??

When I was younger my parents told me and my sister that we possibly had a half brother and his name might be Eric. My dad had been married previously and when that relationship ended he married my mom not long after. One Father's Day his ex-wife sent him a card with a picture of a baby boy that just said "happy father's day from your son, Eric".

According to my dad, his ex-wife was not one to be trusted and he was sure it was just a ploy to get something out of him. He never heard from her or received any cards after that. Not knowing if it was real or not, my parent's always joked with my sister and I never to date anyone named Eric, because they could potentially be our brother!

I never thought much about it and always assumed it was just a lie anyway, that is until the Spicy Pickle.

Now mind you, I grew up in Oregon and this is where "Eric" would have been born and raised as well. So, being in Southern California, I wouldn't think I would just randomly stumble upon this mythical brother of mine.

I had been wanting to check out the Spicy Pickle that had just opened up next door to me and I took advantage of working from home and went there to get a late lunch. I was waiting in line and perusing the menu to decide what I wanted to eat, when I heard a customer at the counter talking about a tradition in his house at Christmas time of hiding a pickle on the tree. I found it interesting that he was sharing this tradition, because this has been a tradition in our house for as long as I can remember. It's a German tradition. Since I had already eavesdropped and heard his story, I couldn't help from injecting myself into his conversation, and telling him how my dad has done this for years.

He was intrigued by this, since anyone he had ever told that to, had always thought it was weird and had never heard of that tradition. This started a conversation between the two of us. Immediately, I thought he looked familiar, but I was sure I hadn't met him before. We sat down and started a conversation. He said his name was Eric and he was from Portland. Hmm, what a small world I thought. I told him I was from Oregon as well and I asked him if he was German, and if that is why they celebrated the pickle tradition. He said he believed he was part German, but he never knew his father, and his mother was not German but had learned the tradition and kept it going in their family.

As I was talking to him and staring at him more and more, I just couldn't get the thought out of my head that he was really familiar. It started to dawn on me that a lot of his features reminded me of my dad. In fact, he kind of looked like my dad in a picture of him from when he was in the military. Piecing information together...his name was Eric, he grew up in Oregon, didn't know his father but he was German, and the pickle tradition....could it be?? Was this really my brother?

I started to ask him more questions about his family. I told him I wasn't trying to be rude or overly personal, but I was curious about his father and what he knew about him. He said he didn't mind sharing, but he didn't know a whole lot. He said his mother told him that she found out she was pregnant after she divorced his father and that when he was born she had only made one attempt to let him know. He said he always asked his mom why she didn't try harder to make the connection, and that she always told him that his father wasn't the "father" type and that she thought he might be better off without him. Ouch, that's a harsh thing to say. If he really is my half brother, my dad was the best dad anyone could ever have. We were his life. Anyway, that's a sidetrack. I asked him if his mom ever told him any details about his dad and what he did or what his name was or anything. He said the only thing he knew was that he was a machinist by trade and lived in the country. That kind of sealed it for me, since my dad is a machinist.

I then revealed to him that when I was growing up that my mom and dad had told my sister and I a story of a possible half brother named Eric. I told him how my dad had been married before and that it wasn't a good marriage and they divorced, and not long after he received a card in the mail with a picture of a baby boy. I said "I think you might be that baby boy." He then told me that he did know that his father had two girls and that he might have sisters, but that his mom always told him that his father knew about him and didn't want anything to do with him. I told him that my father never knew it was real and because she only sent the one card, he never gave it any thought, and that I know my dad would have been part of his life if he knew it was real.

I took a picture of him with my cell phone and sent it to my dad, but given it's been 37 years since my dad ever thought about this issue, he was a little stunned to say the least. He said he really didn't believe it was true, but he wouldn't be opposed to talking to him if he wanted that. Eric said it was all a little much for him and that running into his potential sister in a Spicy Pickle just seems a little unreal. I couldn't agree more, but his story was too close to what I had been told and it seemed like it was highly plausible that he was indeed my brother.

We ended our conversation by exchanging numbers and I gave him my dad's contact info. We agreed to get together for lunch some time when this was all a little less confusing and weird.

I'm not sure how I feel about the idea of this brother really existing and how much it should be part of my life. It's confusing to say the least, especially with the chaos in my family right now with my sister. However, if there is anything I enjoy most about life, it's the unexpected twists and turns that keep it interesting.

Random Acts of Debbie asks that you take a moment and comment, good or bad, I welcome it all!