August of this year I decided to leave my marriage of six years, a relationship that had been defined by domestic abuse. I finally decided that it was time to ensure that my children and I remained safe.

I was anxious and fearful about going to the courthouse and having to figure out the paperwork on my own, but I left my home with my children and filed for a temporary restraining order to protect us from any future harm.

Two weeks after I filed the TRO, I went back to court for the “order to show cause” hearing. At the hearing, the judge granted a three-year order for protection against my abuser. I finally felt some relief, but I also remember feeling nervous about what may lie ahead of us: how would I find us a safe place to live, a safe place to call home.

Days passed without much change, until one day in October when my abuser boarded the same bus as me as I left the courthouse, where I had spent the morning filing paperwork.

I came to the horrifying realization that he had been watching and following me as I headed to my child’s school for a parent-teacher meeting. It was that day in October when he had the vice principal end the meeting and ask me to step into another room, where police officers served me with his TRO accusing me of abusing my children.

Based on his false allegations, my greatest fear came to be — and my children were taken away from me.

Eventually, with much support from the Domestic Violence Action Center, these allegations were dismissed and the children were returned to me a month later, but the horrible feelings I experienced that day continue to remain with me.

I often think about that day in October and how he must’ve followed me, stalked me and found me in a short 3.5-hour window. I think about how easy it was for him to do that, and how easy it would have been for him to physically harm me if he wanted to. He did cause me great emotional harm and to this day, that date brings about a great sense of fear.

I feel deflated and afraid when I walk outside, watching the cars come and go, wondering if he’s still watching me.

I remember the person I used to be: a person who loved being outdoors, something that has been taken away from me by this fear.

When I pick up my son at his school or when I see a police officer in uniform, the fear is still there, as my mind and body is brought back to that day my abuser took my kids from me by manipulating systems designed to protect me and them.

In the past, I did not really consider stalking as an issue to warrant much thought, but now with my own experience, stalking has become a snake that wraps and constricts my every movement. One day, I would like to break free from this hold.