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Lifelong target

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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.

Better to fail than never try

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I watched an Olympic hopeful on Friday night, along with millions of others. Ilia Malinin took to the ice in men’s figure skating with sky high expectations from all sides. Himself, his father and coach, millions of his countrymen and women, fellow athletes and lots of media hyping and analyzing the hell out of his every move. As I watched, his first small jump seemed to land very smoothly but the next couple of them looked a little bumpy and then the horror, he fell, twice.

I felt for him as I’ve often empathized with young athletes in the highly commercialized world we live in. So much pressure, so much scrutiny, so much at stake. It must get to them sometimes, but most of the time they get through with lots of support from friends, family and mentors. Sometimes things still go wrong, despite all the time put in and all the preparation. Fortunately, Ilia, like many of his competitors and fellow Olympians, is very young and will have another chance, God willing, to reach his potential.

The lesson here for us all is to go for the gold, knowing that you may not get it. You may just miss it, or you may miss by a wide margin. While I’m sure it’s devastating to fall short in such a public way, the important thing is to just do your best and keep trying. Learn from the experience and make improvements. That’s what we all have to do throughout our lives. Failing is not fatal. Your soul is built to handle setbacks in life. It’s worth the risk to go for something big.

I sit here on my couch writing these words and think about the fact that I haven’t really gone for anything big in my life so far. I haven’t written that novel or screenplay. I haven’t given up, but I have become complacent. I’ve stopped hearing the ticking clock. While it’s never too late until you’re gone, I’m not getting any younger.

Yoda says “Do or do not. There is no try.” I guess I’m just not doing. Of course, not every thing you do can be successful, but I think what our little green friend meant is that you approach the goal with the full intention of doing it, not with a wishy washy mentality that you’re just going to put out some feelers and see if maybe there’s a chance of things working out. You just have to do it. That doesn’t mean that you couldn’t still fail, but eventually, you’ll get there. Perhaps it’s a matter of doing it again, rather than trying again. Go for the gold with full intention and your best ability and you’ll succeed. Maybe that success looks different than the top of the podium sometimes, but other opportunities for something better may result from your efforts, whatever the immediate outcome.

Go forth and be active and believe in yourself! Good things will happen.

All Hallows Eve

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That’s what Halloween means. It’s the eve of All Saint’s Day. Many ancient cultures believed that spirits of the dead visited on this night. The weather in my area sure fit the day. It was very gray and chilly and windy, with the just changed leaves ripping free from the branches that had so recently sustained them and now flitted and fluttered wildly in the air. It felt spooky, but exhilarating as many folks celebrated in light-hearted fun a day that is steeped in dark and scary traditions.

It’s the third Halloween since my dad passed and my family has had some new concerns and transitions in recent months. I couldn’t help thinking about days gone by and how much life has changed. I miss the wholeness of my family unit and my dad’s quiet strength and stability, but I’m thankful for those traits which he passed on to me along with perseverance and tenacity, and an unflappable confidence borne of a love of life and faith in God.

On this day, with people dressing up as their favorite characters from pop culture, I feel like I can call upon my dad’s presence like Luke Skywalker talking to Obi Wan and Yoda surrounded by their ethereal glow courtesy of The Force. I can’t converse with him and he didn’t give a lot of direct advice, but his steady presence and loving air surround me and guide me.

When someone else is bringing their worries into your aura, expressing anxiety or even panic, it’s hard to hold onto that less tangible spiritual connection, but that’s when you just have to refocus, remember to breathe and put one foot in front of the other. God, and those who have gone before, are with you. And you are with you!

By that I mean that your own consciousness and experience are like an entity unto themselves. You’ve gotten through everything in your life so far and you’re still standing! No one else was there for every minute of that. Only you. So draw confidence from that and remember that you will keep growing and getting better at communing with your spirit, which is connected to God and the loved ones who have moved on. You got this!

Happy All Hallows Eve!