Check out this very personal article from resident blogger Carina Kolodny about how she overcame a horrific experience with an ex boyfriend who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Read how Carina stayed strong and went through the correct channels to avoid a situation that could have been so much worse.

Oh it wasn’t how I planned on spending my senior year, looking over my shoulder. I had high expectations, a phenomenal internship, friends that I couldn’t wait to spend time with and courses that I was really, truly excited about. I was looking forward to a fun year, to go out with a bang, to enjoy the little time I had before diving into that big, bad, elusive real world (Whatever the ‘real world’ means).

But on the dawn of my final chapter, (in the book of my college years, anyway) the text messages began, an ex-boyfriend. An ex-ex-ex boyfriend actually, there had been two people in between. He wanted to woo me back, profess his love… “Ignore him”, my mother told me.

“Don’t engage”. I listened, I didn’t reply to his texts, his emails, his phone calls. But all his failed attempts to get in touch with me started racking up. 35 missed calls, in one day. The sentiment of his communications went from trying to win me back, to being hysterically upset, to getting angry.

“Report it to security”, my friends urged. “This is how terrible things start. Stop this before it turns into something bigger”. It was good advice, the type of advice I would have offered to anyone in my situation. But it was more difficult than that. Even though he was actively trying to complicate my life, I didn’t have the heart to complicate his. And I didn’t, at first, genuinely believe I was in danger. I didn’t think he would do anything. I couldn’t believe he would get anymore aggressive

But when one of his texts said, “you can’t hide all year, Carina”.

This large annoyance transformed into something more daunting: a threat. It was a game changer. I told my crew coach what had been happening and she called security. After handing over the texts, emails, voicemails and phone records, the school issued a “no-contact order”. They told me that they made it clear to this individual that this behaviour was unacceptable. “He understood what he did was wrong”. An administrator told me, “He won’t be bothering you again”. They told me I had the right to ‘prosecute’ him through the school’s disciplinary system. I said that I just wanted to be left alone, that I need to be left alone. I didn’t want to hurt him.

Things quieted down after this. I was still cautious, still looking over my shoulder, but I genuinely believed that the school had gotten through to him. I was convinced that the ordeal was over.

He proved me wrong.

I came back to my room one day and found a bag hanging on the door.

The contents included pictures of me and pieces of my cut-up underwear (a pair that he had clearly kept for the two years we had been apart).

“The consequences will be different now”, the school assured me, ‘more severe’. They were wrong. He was still allowed to stay on campus, still allowed to attend all social events, still allowed to work his campus job, still enrolled in classes. I was dumb-founded. How? I called bull-shit. Put up a fight. “But he’s really sorry”, the administrator said. “He understands he can’t behave like this anymore”.

My friends again gave me their sage advice which was a never ending chorus of “police”, “restraining order,” “press charges”. But how could I? Something like this on his record could ruin his future, his career. For some reason, which seems crazy in retrospect, I didn’t want to hurt him.

But when he stared me down in the dining hall, the game changed again.

He had broken his school issued “no-contact” order. While the school was still trying to get around to getting both sides of the story, I pressed charges. He was arrested, jailed, arraigned and issued a restraining order within 24 hours.

I was still scared, still looking over my shoulder. After all, a restraining order is just a piece of paper. It’s not a magical, protective, electrocuting bubble. He proved my fears worthwhile when he cornered me in a hallway.

I could go on and on about the details. But in the end, I think all that matters is that I DID press charges, I DID stand up for myself, I DID exert my power, I DID help to protect the many women that this individual will come into contact with in the future. I realised that living in fear isn’t really living. I realised that I have the right to live my life, the right to be ME. And ME is a strong, savvy, kick-ass, rock-star WOMAN who has the power and strength to stand up and say “enough”.

This post is by our resident blogger Carina Kolodny

Carina Kolodny is a writer and expert coffee shop loiterer based out of NYC. When not writing (or loitering) she can usually be found traveling the world or jumping out of airplanes. She became interested in HIV education while working with the Red Cross in Fiji. This was an enriching though terrifying experience as she hates snakes almost as much as she hates grammar. She counts Fiji, Cuba and Tanzania as second homes and strongly believes in the power of self love and red lipstick.