harassment

Lifelong target, Part 2

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A few more school bullying incidents have come to mind recently that I feel like sharing now in hopes it helps bring awareness to gangstalking. One was at a second grade assembly where the three classes gathered in one room for a joint assembly as we sometimes did. They would move the desks out of the way and the additional students would sit on the floor in rows. I was settled down on one such occasion talking to my friend when someone did the tap on the shoulder, made you look childish game they did. I can picture how I turned to see which one of the kids in the row behind me had done it. Sometimes I could tell, but the more they did it, the harder it was to determine who the culprit was because the instigator would get more and more kids to participate, so that everyone in the row were all smirking or looking at someone else with the Not Me look or saying the clever, “What?”. I would give up after a few times of this, but they’d always start again a few minutes later or halfway through the assembly if they got bored. Of course, if I had just ignored them and never let them get a rise out of me, they would’ve given up, but I didn’t get that as a kid. I didn’t get the mentality of wanting to torment someone like that. I couldn’t fathom that my annoyance delighted them. I just didn’t think that way. I always wanted to affirm, encourage and include others. Of course, the taunting taps on the shoulder were only a momentary trouble, but the thing that hurt was to have a bunch of kids work together against me. It was the exclusion and disregard for me that was hurtful.

Another time, an older kid on the bus while we were waiting at the school for everyone to get there before the bus headed out, was smacking me on the back of the head right at the soft spot at the crown. He wasn’t trying to fool me about who was doing it. He was just openly bullying me. He was really smacking hard too, and I remember how I felt a little dizzy and kind of reeled a bit for a few seconds before I was even able to turn and say something to him. What struck me, besides his hand, (ha! see what I did there?) was that it seemed as though he was aiming for that particular spot on my head knowing it was a sensitive area and would have that effect. I didn’t think of it at the time, but years later, I thought that someone older had to have told him to try it. They taught him to hit that soft spot to get the desired effect.

Fast forward to tenth grade English class and you’ll see another scene of exclusion. This one didn’t involve any physical attacks, but it was also hurtful. The teacher was lazy and well aware that they couldn’t fire her because she was tenured. (Ironically her name was Firing.) She often just treated her class as a study hall because she hadn’t bothered to do a lesson plan. I often went and sat by my best friend on these do nothing days, but this particular day, I was very tired and not feeling very well physically, probably from my undiagnosed Crohn’s disease. I reviewed my notes for another class that I had a test for, but then I just sat for a while thinking about things. I guess that made it look like I didn’t know what to do with myself socially and the teacher and her pet thought that was pretty funny. I didn’t know they were laughing at me until a popular girl who sat by me in history and often copied my notes and I helped her get ready for tests, came over and told me that’s what they were laughing so hard about. They were making fun of me just because I was sitting there minding my own business. Well, you know what? I didn’t let it get to me. I mean sure it was hurtful at first, but I did go sit with my friend on the next impromptu teacher laziness study hall day. And a cheerleader thought I was cool enough to want to tell me what the mockers were up to. I always had popular people who talked to me. I was one of the top students in the class and I had my small circle of friends. Most people were mature enough to respect that.

The sad thing is that while the rest of us matured and grew in abilities and confidence in life, including some of the participants in the pestering kind of bullying, gangstalkers never grew out of their immature bullying. Unfortunately, their cruel games are not harmless. Instead of pretending not to be involved in pestering by tapping my shoulder from behind like the second graders, these loser sociopaths gang up on a person to disguise who’s turning on electrical field generators nearby and the exact source, so you can’t stop it or sue. And it causes cancer. That’s what electronic harassment is all about!

I rely on God to strengthen and protect me from these childish creeps. My motto for the last seven years now has been, I Will Prevail!

I will keep trying to be a positive influence in the world. I thank God for my writing and photography and many creative abilities.

We the good people, must keep fighting the good fight and encourage one another.

God be with you!

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.

The Return

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I haven’t blogged in several years, but I’m going to start again. I became discouraged after my account was hacked and followers started saying they didn’t see my posts shared on social media. I also got fewer reads from people just searching me on WordPress. It was also getting hard to think of ideas to write about and life has a way of getting in the way of things.

When I last posted in the fall of 2018, I had been attending a new church and making friends there. I’m still a member of Metropolitan Community Church of the Lehigh Valley and still enjoy a few good friendships made there. Some people have moved on, but it’s still my church and spiritual center. I’m still glad I was brave enough to go to a gay friendly church and start being who I am.

A lot of things have happened since October 2018. I rebuilt my credit and got a new car, returned to the digital department at my work after a stint in microfilming. There was that whole pandemic thing. I had shoulder surgery in 2021 and a bunch of other health issues between fall 2020 and late 2021. I’ve taken lots of pictures, took a couple memorable vacations with my new friends, grew a lot of flowers and did some spiffing up in the house.

The most significant events were both bad ones, though. One is ongoing even now. The other, was the loss of my dad to cancer last year, on St. Patrick’s Day, early in the morning. It was my brother’s birthday that he lost consciousness as we administered home hospice care and my brother did most of it that night as my mom and I fell asleep since we had gotten almost no sleep the previous night. I will always feel bad for my brother to have that happen on his birthday and I’m grateful to my dad for hanging on until after midnight so it wouldn’t officially be my brother’s birthday that he died. And this just a few years after the start of the pandemic made it impossible for my brother to celebrate his 50th properly.

My dad was diagnosed at about that time as well, and had surgery to remove a very large tumor from his colon in June 2020. Somehow, it took about six months to diagnose, even though the tumor was quite sizable. He went through chemo like a champ and fought it for three years, until just a few weeks before his 91st birthday. No one could have done better and we will always be proud of him.

The other negative event is one that I’m going to post a lot about. I have been subjected to a form of relentless, brutal harassment known as gang stalking. There are many, many online forums about this and much misinformation by the creeps that do it, trying to discredit those who share their experience. It’s not just harassment. It’s assault. Years long, cruel and sadistic assault. It’s usually completely without provocation, as it is in my case. People are targeted for mostly political reasons, often at a young age. It’s a scheme to prevent people from succeeding at anything and becoming a force for progress in the world. It’s all done very subtly, which makes it impossible to prove or put an end to. The victim, or target, is left to face it alone because no one believes or understands what’s happening. It’s extremely insidious and cowardly and provokes many to rage. I believe this is the cause of much violence in this country including mass shootings.

It’s my mission to expose not just those doing it to me, but the whole network, which is nationwide, probably even worldwide. I also hope to explain what I think is the motivation behind this horrible practice and why I was targeted. The world would be a far, far better place without these extremists and those they recruit to help them in gang stalking. One thing I’ll address is that the participants are not all necessarily right wingers. The organizers are. They recruit people by slandering and falsely incriminating the targets and they are using us as guinea pigs to perfect their methods and weapons for a wide scale attack.

I’d say that’s enough for my return to blogging. I just want to say that I am doing just fine mental health wise and I have never experienced paranoia, nor do I have any tendency for it. I have only mild bipolar depression and have never had a manic episode. I have my father’s good heart and tenacity. I have persevered through five years of this already and I will make it through!