At my neighbor LaValles house. I had packages in my hands and my pocket book hooked across my body on a long strap. I saw a child running behind me and suddenly the drink bottle in my bag flew out of it with a splash of diet soda going everywhere. He ran away as it was dark and he was behind me I could not tell what the objective was. I took a photo of the child I suspect.
My wrist is still hurting from where I hurt it on Thursday. I just had to get up and see if Annabelle was in the house because someone was knocking at my door. And no, I don’t ever answer it. I did last year to find a car on Deter sitting and watching me while the person who knocked was walking away. Number 10033 for suspicious events at the house. I’ve had the three neighbors on my ass for ages, even at the old house. And RPD won’t do anything about the resentment stalking, from the next door. So, I can’t really do anything but hate them. And guess what! I think when I tried to tell Davids friend about the stalker, and I told him the police were involved but unable to do anything. He looked upset! I wonder if he’s an undercover cop? He would not meet my eyes, like someone who is fearful they’ve been made.
So, since everything has been pointed at me: the reactivity of the stalkers to my movements, which is the big thing, and their presence in a neighbors backyard, the one who complains about the pets, and the whole phenomenon of my intuition telling me those girls are framing me for something, I just don’t want anything to do with them. I have excellent feminine intuition. Which, since we all own our homes, is really a kind of sad situation. I really didn’t have anything against anyone, until they began queefing about my fur kids. They’re my children! What would they say if I complained about theirs? They’d be unhappy for sure. So I’ve decided I won’t ever do anything for them.
My last module of the family class is coming up next week. Guess what? For the very first time online I’m off for Thanksgiving! Which is really a non sequiteur. I know I must sound like I’m angry and upset, but the very fact that I’ve been living in fear since January of 2015 from the stalking, takes even me, with lots of experience in dealing with emotional states, and helping others with theirs, to another level of anxiety. Another person would be crying over what they did to me. I have too many other things to do right now.
On the manhunt again, and despite owning my own house, the fact I retired early is likely to make the manhunt impossible, unless he’s retired too. So, that means that he’s going to be older, not younger. Hummmmm….
My life is so calm and quiet it’s almost frightening. I have everything I need to get a life going again, but it’s hard to have to stay home because of limited income, so I’m job hunting too. Despite the recent local publicity, jobs are scarce. Even non-professional income maintenance positions like retail are difficult to come by.
I implored JLR to write a suit, but it’s not happening, so I have to write it myself. The stalking has gone on so long, I have had people warn me about the break-ins, and the police refuse to stop my stalkers. I have made a dozen or so calls over the odd wiring changes, the ring and run knocking scenarios, things hitting me on the head as I walk out the door, and they never investigate. And then the cars that seem to belong somewhere else, not here.
The problem is that people are assholes, who want to cause damage to others, and can’t live and let live. One of my friends had a dinner out last night, her sons birthday. He’s depressed because of health issues. A neighboring diner attacked him verbally, calling him names, perhaps because her son dropped an F-bomb or two. Out of thin air! They were all scared to say anything. Her son responded diplomatically to him “you don’t know me as a person” comment, and I don’t think he said anything more. If it were me, I would have gotten the type of asshole who would have responded to me by saying: “yes I do.” It’s the type of thing that makes me want to go onto a military base somewhere, and live inside its gates, forever. Someplace safe.
Trying to live with the indigent, when you lose your money after a health battle. Now there’s one for you!! It’s no longer a #PrivilegedWhiteGirlProblem, but simply a #WhiteGirlProblem! I think someone tried to murder me, by walking into my kitchen, and turning on the flame on the stove while I was asleep upstairs at Chalfont. My whole apartment was hot, and if I’d let it go on for longer I could have had a real fire or other problems. I never called anyone, it didn’t seem likely that I’d have any response. It only happened during the day, and only someone from the office should have had the key. I got smeared verbally to those in the office, and presumably elsewhere. So, someone had an agenda.
Trying to find a laser that works for me.
How do I get my power back?
Love is the medicine for restoration.
Dissolve all guilt and shame.
Renegotiate all contracted agreements with people and the Universe.
Choose your life consciously to renegotiate.
Step into your role as a healer.
If you fully embrace who you are, you are free.
“I forgive everyone, everywhere, in all timelines and realities, especially myself.
I heal everyone, everywhere in all timelines and realities, especially myself.
I take back any power that was stolen from me, from anyone, anywhere and in any timeline and reality, and I give back any power that is not mine.”
I’ve been on a journey, through life, with art, solace, anger, pride, all the emotions and the fears, the let downs, the happiness that is so hard to keep going, and my path to be a counselor, and I still get hung up on the inhumanity of the human race. Sometimes, I think we’re basically good, with a few idiots in between who do deliberate bad and sometimes I believe it’s only that we do bad accidently, out of ignorance or pain or fear. And as I’ve aged I see the planet as in dire need, and no coherent world-view, with ethnocentrism standing in the way. As a counselor, I see that people in control would have to medicate everyone on the planet to eradicate the idea and power of ethnocentrism. And I don’t know if there is actually a drug that can do that without leaving the planet with a population of walking dead. So the idea of life without borders seems an insecure choice, that would leave society shaky. People tend to believe in the sham idea of “people who are like me, and people who are not like me.”
Jealousy, vindictiveness, and absolute unhappiness stare me in the face, just like the rest of the planet, and I have to keep a chin up and keep going. Not to let anyone who is angry beat me down, not to let my strengths derail. And I’m getting old. The tribe is moved away, all the old friends and I split, and I’m left here. I have my work, and sometimes I don’t know if it’s wise to keep going. Should I just give it up and stay home? I’m almost officially old enough.