I lost all my long term friends soon after I relocated to Ruidoso, NM, in October 2006. Two commited suicide; the others went away after my both my laptop computers were hijacked and my new up and coming website development, design & hosting business was destroyed. Following those occurences, I literally had no means to remain in contact with the outside world for a long time.
That's how the gang-stalking started and it was here in Ruidoso, NM, that it all began, thanks to the vicious slander put forth by my ex-husband, Bill Schillings, who targeted me approximately 5 years after our divorce in December 2001.
My neighbors and many other local folk were compromised against me by the slander prior to my arrival. Since, after being innundated with perps, I am allowed only one person in my life at a time, a Reindeer "friend" or "lover" who plays Reindeer Games because they are one of THEM. All acquaintances, and potential friends and lovers who are not affiliated with the stalkers are either recruited or frightened away.
I ASSUME that's what happens. No one asks me for my side of the story or tells me straight up why they suddenly stop engaging with me. They are here one minute, gone the next - ALL OF THEM.
The person sent by the gang-stalkers who is to be my darling companion - aka handler, watcher, babysitter or WTF ever you want to call them (I've been known to call them lots of names) starts off the "relationship" in all sincerity and understanding, in need of help and with promises abundant help back at me. Two weeks in, they tip their hand by doing something bordering on sadistic, something bad enough to give me pause and for them to leave me alone.
Then, once the dust settles, they come back and do it all over again, only worse; always, they up the drive-me-to-suicide anti, hoping to break me down.
Pop psychology says the onerous is on me; I am responsible for what ails me and it's up to me to end the cycle of abuse by refusing them entry and by no longer engaging with them or people like them.
But, those who believe that jargon go home to a nice, warm, fully-functional house with hot, running water and a flush toilet, while I come home to bathe in a pot and shit in a bucket in a freezing cold house although my utility bills were paid in full, because mine is not a perfect world.
I am targeted because my ex-husband wanted MY house and later compensated the local theft ring leader with MY house to pay HIS debt. I'm a passenger on a run-away train careening down a one way track.
I live in Gang-Stalking World due to the greed and jealousy of hateful others, through no fault of my own.
If I am at fault it's due to being shunned and isolated. I get attached easily or fall in love with the wrong person or I choose to believe the sob stories I'm told or I think the perps will have mercy on me and see the light or Prince Charming will come to my rescue and take me away from all this.
But, the meth addicts, thieves and/or violent felon who are without conscience and have nothing to lose, are those who are sent my way to babysit, rob me and hurt me to the bone. Time and again, I am kissed by a frog and awaken to the silent scream nightmares are made of instead.
Still, when I start to balk and complain too loudly, I am soon offered a RELAY-tionship, a stalker who once had a foot in my door who is here temporarily until the handler I'm rejecting and ejecting either makes a comeback or the shotcaller finds a replacement I am willing to allow in to fool me and hurt me again.
It took courage on my part and was tantamount to chewing off a limb, but I recently send my hitman-handler of the past 2 years packing, discouraged the relays and now refuse to open my door - or my legs - to another contender sent to help me to meet my demise.
I am currently handler-free. There is no one to monitor me or raise me up to new heights, only to drop me on my head.
Call me Patty Herst. Maybe I suffer from the Stockholm Syndrome. I don't know what to do with them or myself.
The stalkers happy that I am without a handler. I can feel them wracking their collective shit-for-brains regarding who to send in to dupe me into acceptance, attachment and/or love next.
Chance encounters and REAL-ationships no longer exist for me; like natural gas and running water, a real-ationship may never exist for me again.
Too many monsters... too little time.
The stalkers already stole 7.6 of the last best years of my life. Now I'm 61 years old. The monsters are still out to get me and time is NOT on my side.
No one is... THAT'S a fact.
I fell hard for my last Reindeer Lover, but when he dropped the mask, I took off my rose-colored glasses and stopped "he loves me, he loves me not" from running around in my head.
He loves me NOT.
He is a hater. He hates me for being a good person. Moreso, he hates me for loving him and disdains me for my weakness and stupidity in the face of who he is and what he was ultimately sent my way to do.
I want to know love... I want to dance and sing and be free to have a life again
But, my time is spent battling monsters in the guise of gang-stalkers.
I have no fear becoming one of them. They are what I NEVER was nor EVER will I be... but, although I will not gaze into the abyss, the abyss IS gazing into me.