A day in the life of a stalker's victim

I expect that under everyone's serene exterior lie untold secrets. Mine relate to my stalker. Superficially, the humdrum of life continues, with routine largely unruffled. Underneath, however, even though my stalker interferes far less in a physical sense than in previous years, the problem never goes away.

It is now more than four years since I realised that a patient had begun to follow me. While on my list, the patient led me a merry dance of lies and bizarre behaviour. When I finally realised that this saga was all a fabrication and removed the patient from my list, the stalking began. This is where my sense of control left me. How do you apply rational thought to something illogical and unpredictable? Such is mental illness. I can only understand it in the following terms: the stalker had made such an emotional investment in this fantasy world of which I had become a part, that it was too great to be abandoned.

I feel guilty if I need to visit patients near the stalker's address

The questions began early …