He is not my stalker.

Loosely defined by law, stalking is ". . . a pattern of behavior that causes a reasonable person to feel fear."

When I talk about my house, my car, or my dog I am signaling ownership, connection, and pride. That’s not what a stalker deserves. By referring to him as “my stalker,” I unintentionally take ownership in his actions.

I want nothing to do with that. I reject any notion that ties me to his sadistic choices.

Todd had countless opportunities to recognize the depravity of his actions and stop. Stalking isn't an isolated incident or momentary lapse in judgment; it is a pattern of behavior.

Every time he followed me, watched me, invaded my life without consent, he made a conscious decision to continue down that dark path. Todd cannot blame his upbringing, mental health, or any external circumstances for his actions.

He, and he alone, is accountable.

I admit, it’s tempting to make excuses for him and to rationalize his behavior as a manifestation of unresolved trauma or to put a label on whatever mental health issue he might have. Throughout the publishing process, I was implored to consider including a mental health expert’s perspective on Todd’s psychological profile. But I refused to do this. I refuse to offer an excuse for the choices he made in terrorizing me.

No matter what mental illness he suffers from or demons that haunt him, Todd had a choice. He could have sought help. Instead, he chose to violate my most fundamental human right—the right to feel safe.

The only things I claim ownership over are my truth, my strength, and my determination not to be silenced.

This artical originally appeared on Sarcastically yours, Jen as a guest post.