I never expected to be at the wrong end of a knife, especially not on Christmas Eve. I was new at being a hotline crisis counselor, and had little experience with serious psychiatric illness. Although I was working at a secret safe house for victims of domestic abuse, I managed the phones and files, and had little to do with the household's day-to-day functioning.
However, as the Christmas season approached, since I had no family close by, I volunteered to cover the place, phones and all, for Christmas Eve and Day. I'd be responsible for just one resident for that 36-hour frame, so I urged the staff members to enjoy themselves and their families. What could really go wrong?
They were grateful and each made plans to go away. The director gave me an emergency number, but said she’d be in another state.
I arrived for my shift and settled in. For a couple of hours, things ran smoothly. I sat in the office doing some clerical stuff and everything was quiet. The lone resident, whom I’ll call “Beth,” seemed content. She’d fled a brutal boyfriend several weeks before, and the staff counselor had been working closely with her. After the holidays, she’d be taking classes and finding a place to live.
When I came out into the living room, I noticed that the Christmas tree lights were on. The place looked festive. That was a good sign, but I was surprised to see a number of wrapped gifts under the tree. They hadn’t been there when I arrived. I looked at one and saw my name on the tag. OK, that was nice. But then my name appeared on the tag of a second gift, and then a third. Each was from Beth. I soon realized that every package under the tree was from Beth...for me. I backed away.
Although I had a master’s degree in clinical psychology, I’d never studied or been the focus of an obsession. I’d barely even heard of something like this, and at this time, stalking was still under the radar for law enforcement. I had no idea what was happening, but it felt disturbing.
Beth came out of her room. She was happy that I’d seen the gifts and urged me to open them. I told her I couldn’t accept them. I was a staff member and it was inappropriate to receive gifts. She looked disappointed. She’d spent every penny she had, she said, to get them for me.
She then revealed how she’d followed me in her car for several weeks and knew where I lived. She’d often waited outside, watching my house. She knew that we were “meant” to be “best friends,” because we’d been related to each other in some other lifetime. Beth had an entire philosophy worked out about the significance of things I’d said when I’d helped her fill out some papers. Somehow, my routine office duties had “spoken” to her and triggered this obsession. She’d been so excited when she'd learned that we’d be in the safe house alone. She thought I'd arranged it for her.
I had no idea how to respond. She was twice my size and I felt totally vulnerable. I tried to maintain a professional demeanor. I thanked her for the gifts and urged her to return them and get her money back. I then went in the office.
Now I was scared. This all happened before we could silently text SOS messages out to someone. I knew if I made a call, Beth would certainly hear me. But the fact was, I had no one to call, aside from the emergency number. This didn’t seem like an emergency. And I didn’t think she’d actually do anything to me.
Beth went to her room and I stayed in the office. After a while, I got hungry. I heard music in Beth's room, so I thought it was safe to venture out. I entered the dark kitchen and turned on the light. Beth jumped out at me, a carving knife in her hand.
It was like something out of a horror movie. I stepped back and she laughed. She waved the knife at me, about two feet away, and said it was just a game. It didn’t feel like a game to me.
I ran to another room and she came after me, shutting off the lights. I managed to get to the office and lock the door. She banged on it for a few minutes. Then she said that if I didn’t open those gifts, she was going to lock herself in her room and start cutting herself. I heard her leave. I went to her door and discovered that she’d locked it. She yelled that they’d find her dead and it would be my fault.
Now it was an emergency. I called the police. But it was late at night, on Christmas Eve. In this small town, they weren’t sure when a patrol would get there. They said they’d call the psych ward at the local hospital and get back to me. I wasn’t going to wait. I called the hospital myself and described the situation. Did I think she was a danger? the attendant asked. Yes, I did.
But he was unconvinced. “She’s probably a borderline,” he said. “She cuts herself for attention. I doubt she’s really a danger.” He told me to monitor the situation and call if it got worse.
So this was how I was spending Christmas: alone in a secret safe house with a seriously disturbed woman, no backup, and sparse or reluctant support services. I went to the door of her room and listened. I expected her to jump out at me again. I realized that I wouldn't know if the situation got worse, because I couldn’t see her and I couldn’t get in.
I called the police again and insisted that someone come and get her. When they showed up and persuaded her to open the door, it turned out that she was cutting herself and her room was a bloody mess. She screamed that she wasn't going anywhere, but they managed to take her to the hospital.
She never came back to the shelter house. Neither did I. The director told me that Beth had developed a fanatical obsession with me and they couldn’t predict what she might do. In fact, no one had realized how extreme it was or they’d never have left me alone there. Before this incident, she’d seemed perfectly normal. Who could have known?
It was my first experience with a stalker. These days I know a lot more. The gift to me on that Christmas Eve, as terrifying as it was, became my gift to others, as I now teach people how to prepare for such encounters. With approximately 1 in 12 women stalked at some point in their lives, and 1 in 45 males, it happens more often than we might expect. Sometimes it's deadly.
According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics review of victim reports:
- During a 12-month period, an estimated 14 in 1,000 adults are victims of stalking
- Nearly half of stalking victims experience at least one unwanted contact per week, and 11% say they’ve been stalked for 5 years or more.
- The risk of stalking victimization is highest for people divorced or separated — 34 per 1,000.
- Women are at greater risk than men, but are equally likely to experience harassment.
- Approximately 1 in 4 victims report cyberstalking.
- Nearly 3 in 4 stalking victims know their offender in some capacity.
Although it's been several decades since that experience, I’ve never forgotten how awful it felt to be the target of an obsession. I’m glad, for the sake of present and future victims, that our social awareness and support services are better.