I wrote about some childhood bullying incidents on this blog back in 2018 in the following post:

How I met my bully | Sophisticated Neanderthal

I’ve been dealing with relentless harassment from a bunch of simpletons around me for the last ten years. Actually much longer but the most intense has been since I started my current job eleven years ago and even moreso since October 2019 when I had a strange experience involving missing time at an Oktoberfest event near my home.

I still have those same feelings of just wanting to be left alone. I’m just trying to live my life. Why can’t they do the same? Just live and let live. I am a lover of peace and an encourager. Why should I have to deal with constant hostility and harmful intentions and actions? I remember those childhood feelings of not wanting to deal with bullies. But deal with it I must because they never stop. I’ve come to learn that the insidious, relentless form of harassment I’ve been subjected to for the last eleven years is called gangstalking. I’ll be writing much more about that, but now I want to add a detail that I didn’t yet realize was significant the last time I wrote about it.

I remember the day on my paper route when the bully pushed me into a snowbank. He finally gave up for that day when that still didn’t elecit a fist fight with him and he sarted walking away. It happened on Market Street in Bangor between 3rd and 4th Streets. My route took me out Third St. and the site of the occurrence was near Bangor Elementary Center on Fourth St., where I attended grade shool a couple years earlier. I can still picture as I got back on my feet and was putting my brown knit hat with white stripes back on after brushing the snow off it, that I spotted the old windowless beige van driven by my 6th grade English teacher. Bangor is a small town and I knew it was her vehicle. A couple friends and I knew what many of the teachers drove. We paid attention to cars.

The thing that struck me as I recalled that scene recently was that the teacher, now deceased, bore the same last name as one of the main ringleaders of the ongoing harassment against me. I saw her sitting at a stop sign on the next street up and looking toward me and the scene that had just unfolded. She didn’t turn down the hill and come my way. I thought she might come to see if everything was alright, but she just went on up the hill. I remember feeling relieved because I was embarassed to have been seen “losing” the struggle with the bully. I felt wimpy. You would think she would’ve been concerned and checked on me, but oddly did not. Only recently I thought, for the first time, about the fact that she bore the same last name as the current ringleader of harassment against me. It wasn’t the first time I thought this stuff started at childhood, but it was the first I thought about the name connection.

Then I thought about how she was a closeted Lesbian (she had a semi secret affair with the female gym teacher and had bipolar or some kind of mental health diagnosis. I previously figured that part out when reflecting on how she was telling the class how all the women in her family were witches and their abilities were only passed down through the women. She had an extended absence right after that day. She must have been off her meds and had to take a medical leave to get inpatient treatment. I don’t know that, but it seems like a good guess. The chief bully gangstalker is also Lesbian and mentally not well. A former friend who’s also involved is also gay and bipolar. And his mom bears a resemblance to my old teacher. Things that make you go hmmm!

Back to the snowbank, I wonder what would have happened if I had taken the bait of the antagonizing bully and threw a punch with the teacher looking on? I think she would have claimed that she didn’t see him do anything but that she only saw me hitting him. Then they would’ve sent me to a juvenile delinquent center or something. Who knows what might have happened there? Were they trying to corrupt me by exposing me to other rough kids and/or abusive staff, or was someone at the juvenile center intended to molest or assault me?

Fortunately, I stayed away from that fight and any other trouble my whole life, following the good example of my parents. I’m thankful I came from a good family and had good people around me through friends of the family and my church. No bullies or troublemakers were ever able to shake me. I miss my dad but I thank God for his quiet strength and steadfast faith and love of the people around him and living a good and simple life. It’s our family legacy and no one is going to take that away.

One thing is for sure, this target is done being bullied. 54 years is enough! The gangstalker creeps will be exposed. They shrink from the light of day. I am a lover of light. They slink around like cowards. I am honest and straightforward.