Part V

Earlier posts:
Intro, Intro Addendum
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

The actual stalking was the most difficult part of this story for me, personally, but the next segment of the story was – and continues to be – the most difficult part for me conceptually. Because it’s not just about me. What I have witnessed firsthand and learned in research in regards to the court system affects all women. And the reality, for victims or potential victims, is not slanted in our favor. Quite the contrary. Only 4% of convicted criminals are sentenced to time in prison (statistic via Armed & Female by Paxton Quigley). My stalker was found guilty. And after the sentencing, he was free to go. Even the court fees he should have had to pay were waived. But I’m jumping ahead of myself.

My last installment ended with the stalker’s arrest. The cops were amazing ~ from the moment I approached them, they were patient with me, proactive in their work, and totally professional throughout.

As per the arresting officer’s instructions, I called the Prosecuting Attorney on Monday morning. He was condescending, distracted, and had no solid answers to my questions. He didn’t know if there would be a hearing that day; when I asked him about bail he “hadn’t thought about it;” he was dismissive of the seriousness of the situation because the stalker had not confronted me face to face (uh, he was arrested first!). This is when I learned that the stalker was found with a loaded .44 Magnum. I also learned that the prosecuting attorney had 96 days left before his retirement. He was literally counting down the days. He told me he would call me later.

When I hadn’t heard anything further by midday, I called him back, only to be given a new version of the same spiel. I was antsy, irritated, concerned, and I was glimpsing the tip of the iceberg: my safety was in the hands of someone who didn’t care that much personally, philosophically, or professionally. So I walked up to Mike’s house and asked him for a lesson in handguns.

My very good friend Carol taught me to shoot a rifle long before all this began. Her father taught her; she, in turn, taught her daughter and sons, and, when I asked her, she taught me. She taught me from scratch, from the ground up ~ safety, posture, ethics, sportsmanship. We were shooting cans and, at the end of the day, she pointed to a can and instructed me to “make that can dance.” Meaning, shoot multiple rounds with enough speed and accuracy so that the can didn’t stop moving. I didn’t think I could do it. She made me try. I made that can dance. I bought a rifle a few days later. Not so that I could go around killing things, but so I could continue practicing what I believe to be a valuable skill and one I found I really enjoyed.

So, I had experience with rifles but handguns were a different story. As Carol said, “there’s only one reason to have a handgun.” And back then, that one reason seemed completely outside the realm of my reality ~ a non-issue in my simple little life. But the Monday after the arrest, I saw my life differently. My reality had changed. That Monday, instead of pacing circles waiting for the PA to call, I decided to learn to shoot a handgun. I shot dozens of rounds, with Mike at my side offering tips or suggestions at intervals. At one point, when I was reloading, Mike commented that my hands were shaking. “I know!” I said, “they’ve been shaking all day.” And then I realized something. I looked at him and said, “When I shoot, I’m not shaking.” “No,” he said. “You don’t shake at all.”

I love target practice. I have clocked a lot of hours doing it. I find it very similar to yoga. You cannot be distracted when you have a loaded gun in your hand. You cannot fret about an argument you had, or worry about something that’s looming in the future. You must be centered, fully engaged in the moment or you risk hurting yourself or someone or something else. I find target practice very grounding.

While I would never shoot an animal for a trophy, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I looked out my window and saw a mountain lion stalking Frisco, I would be out the door in a flash, gun in hand, and I would shoot to save Frisco. I would kill to protect those in my care. The same measure of self awareness is required with a handgun as it pertains to protecting oneself from a human predator. I know what I would do in that instance, too.

Shortly after I got back home, the PA called. He told me the hearing would be that afternoon at 4:30, that the stalker would plead Not Guilty because “they always do,” and that the judge would decide bail because, “they always do,” and that I could testify by phone in the presence of a notary. He gave me the number to call at 4:20 and said the proceedings never lasted more than 15 or 20 minutes.

I called the local notary and he agreed to meet me at his office for the call. At 4:20 we called the courts. I spoke with the receptionist and was put on hold for seven minutes. Then the call was disconnected. We called back; it went straight to the court voicemail service. We called back again, and again. Our calls were never answered. Finally, at five minutes to five, I said, “we might as well stop trying; it’s probably over now anyway.” So I drove home. I got home at two minutes past five. There was a message on my machine from a woman at the courthouse who said she “wanted to go over what happened in court today. We close up shop at 5.” I tried calling immediately in hopes of reaching someone, to no avail.

So, I had NO idea what had happened. I didn’t know if he was still in custody or if he was out (I found out later that the presiding judge did not want to hear testimony over the phone. I was a little {ok, a lot} irked that they just hung up the phone without explaining why). I had to find out, though.

I looked up the number to the county jail and called the jail directly. I explained the circumstance and was told, “He’s still here. His bond is $10,000 cash. And since he’s still here, now, it’s a safe bet he’ll be here all night, if not longer.” I was also told that if he did post bond, the Victim’s Advocate from the court (someone I’d not yet met or spoken with) would be notified before he was released, and she would notify me. “Even if it’s three in the morning?” I asked. “Yep – even if it’s three in the morning.” So I tried to relax. I had, for the time being, a $10,000 bond, a phone tree, and borrowed handgun between me and the stalker.

But the stalker didn’t like being in jail, held on a bond he couldn’t afford. And that’s when things got interesting.

P.S. What a devistating time to bring up my appreciation for and practice with guns. But people have been patiently waiting for the next installment in this story and it would not be an honest, chronological account if I omitted this entry. I do not want my comment section to become a space for debate over gun laws. There are other places on the net devoted to such discussions. There *is* so much more I want to say on the topic ~ of guns, personal safety, societal safety, RESPONSIBILITY…. Maybe another day. This post is Part V in a series that I want to keep intact and undiluted.

Part VI is HERE

Chlorella Shots

~ the gorgeous forest green powder ~

When life is mellow, I can be a slacker when it comes to my bod ~
I know what corners I can cut with diet and sleep and exercise and still function at a very high level, simply because there aren’t many stressors depleting me.

I’ll drink coffee every morning, just because I like it.
I’ll eat things that aren’t terribly nutritious, just because they taste good.
I’ll blob around the house for a day or two, just because I feel lazy.

But when stressors appear, I snap out of my slackerdom.
I know enough now, from having paid close attention to my body over the years –
at its weakest and strongest –
to know what I need to do when life becomes stressful
so that the stress doesn’t take me down.

~ mix it with a little water ~

Most people know of the Hippocratic Oath that all doctors must take
but it wasn’t until my mid-twenties, when I nearly died
from undiagnosed gluten intolerance and then cured myself
completely, just by changing my diet,
that I really understood Hippocrates’ most famous words:
“Let thy food be thy medicine.”

Now, I live by this philosophy.
When life gets crazy ~ when I suddenly can’t get enough sleep each night,
or when I’m taxed externally or emotionally ~ I can keep the stress from damaging my physical and emotional wellbeing by bringing certain things into heavy rotation and leaving other things out.

I stop drinking coffee and switch to Yerba Mate.

I make kombucha and kefir
(kefir really helped me during the height of the stalker stuff when I had lost my appetite but needed to stay at my physical and mental peak)

I vigorously move my body everyday ~
not for aesthetics, but to keep my lymph system flowing.

And I start doing chlorella shots!

~ just enough to throw back in a gulp ~

Chlorella is algae.
Chlorella, for me, is what a can of spinach was for Popeye.
Chlorella makes me zing!

When I take a shot, I feel it in my brain, in my blood.
It’s like diving into water – that rush of purity and invigoration.

Chlorella is extremely nutrient dense, packed with amino acids and omegs-3’s.
It’s marvelous.
Google will tell you that in much greater detail.

~ lime at the ready for a palate-cleansing finish! ~

It tastes disgusting.
It tastes the way the ocean smells at low tide.
I’ve tried mixing it with juice or putting it in a smoothie but it just contaminates the whole thing. The only way I can take chlorella is to throw it back like a tequila shot, and then immediately bite into a lime wedge.
The lime erases the nasty taste and I am left with the full body ZING!

~ predicting the comment section ~
yes, you can buy chlorella in capsule form.
but pills are boring and more expensive than powder,
and they don’t give me the instant zing.
not all chlorella is created equal.
definitely find one that’s “broken wall.”
I like this one and this one.
and now I’m going to take a shot and go write Part V!

Back In Class

This is what 1200 pages looks like.
This is what I shall be absorbing – plus much more – over the next five months.
I’ve begun training to be an EMT!

This summer, I was approached with an offer to join the local EMS (Emergency Medical Services) crew come January. I replied with a wholehearted ‘I’M IN!’ right then and there.

I do quite well under pressure ~ the San Francisco Red Cross actually offered me a job on the spot when the apartment building I was living in burned down – the director on site was like, “You sprinted out of a burning building in the middle of the night, you’re suddenly homeless, and yet you are calm, cool, collected and helping others? Work for us!”

Volunteer EMTs are essential in rural areas such as mine. It was an honor to be asked and I am so excited to learn these skills and to be of service. Meanwhile, I’m going to try to keep up with regular postings on this blog but, for the next stretch of time, it may end up being more like twice-weekly posts instead of daily posts (not that it’s ever been daily around here…) Thanks for understanding!