Tag Archive: Paranoia


I was playing Krishna Das earlier and trying to sing (the bit about singing was an edit at the end and the woman again reacted.  It is all about psychological intimidation, invalidation and control, dominance.  I call her a dominatrix, and I am right, and what they are doing is wrong and illegal.  She, in particular, keeps snatching at me) and the woman next door was insinuating herself on it in a way which was making me think that what she was doing was OK and I was the unreasonable one, not to fall in line with what they want with me, not to acknowledge and release the joy I felt towards them and forgive and forget and be friends. But that would be foolish and delusional.  You can’t let yourself do that with such harassment and computer hacking.  That would, indeed, be madness.  I just had the news on and she was doing the same thing, deliberate, targeted, militant criminal harassment, imposing herself on my mind so everything gets mixed up and every engagement is shallow – or a mess, like this post is turning out to be (again, here, she cries out). They have me feeling guilty for losing it with them, and when I mount a successful challenge and accurate assessment of what she is doing, suddenly the man comes in with his contemptuous, violent, assaulting voice to his harassing little girl’s little rescue. SHE is not supposed to be there. There is one tenancy holder who, as I understand it, is supposed to be the sole tenant. He is viciously organising and supporting this harassment against me in his bungalow. It is truly horrific. He’s started making a pathetic-sounding little noise now. It is all bullying and manipulation. The lesson they are trying to teach me is what happens when I stand up to the neighbourhood mafia and bully. That is the way I perceive it, anyway, unless he is getting angry with the woman and not me. But it has been going on for months and he can hear the distress it is causing me. If he was angry with her, he might apologise to me and stop her coming and causing trouble. As far as I am concerned, she definitely needs to go and not come back. They’ve been doing the baby interrogation on me as well. For months. Really gleeful, invasive, vicious and exultant.  A bit of gang stalking going on. And gang stalking is definitely a crime. I call it mafia activity. My psychologist says I shouldn’t use that term if I don’t want to be seen as paranoid if I talk to the police, but I think that is what it is. They don’t all go around in Italian suits and flash cars, and even the police will know and acknowledge that, I would hope, without putting the use of the term belittlingly down to paranoia. Some of it is little people, like neighbours, store staff, bus drivers, hairdressers, restaurant staff.  Some are a bit bigger – police, psychiatry, arts and media and religious organisations.  Who knows where it starts, or how and why?  She just cried out pathetically when I typed restaurant staff. I think she might be calling on God for help with what she can see while she is hacking my computer. Did you ever hear anything so demonic and warped, to do to a neighbour? Of course, it could be a psychic reaction. I can’t prove it’s not, but I’ve heard plenty of ‘yeses’ at things I’ve said on Facebook as well. My father’s death, my brother’s death, my niece’s death, desperately and indecently invasive of privacy and intimacy (she’s reacting again), thing’s I’ve said to Krishna Das in the early days. Yessing at things on recordings and videos, throughout. They have been reacting, I believe, in different ways all the time I have been writing and editing this post and the message seems to be ‘we are reacting to what we can see hacking your computer and we are making sure you know about it.  We aren’t going to stop.  We will impose an illegal reaction and sound on every statement’.  If no one helps me with this, shame on everyone who has abandoned me to deal with it alone. Shame on contemptuous and cowardly authorities, in particular.  I posted about them once using Nottingham Police and Nottingham City Homes tags, and no one got in touch with me.  I think they should have done, so I’m going to do it again.  She is giggling as I am adding tags.  They went ever so quite (but she has immediately challenged that observation with another mischievous and contemptuous mutter) when I used the term ‘mafia haunting’.  That is a term I learned from Tommy Boyd when he said someone offered to carry one out for him and he declined.  He described it, what sort of thing it is.  Man coughs nervously.  Wishes he wasn’t seeing this.  That is the problem, hacking computers, Mr Mann.  You sometimes see more than you bargained for and wish you hadn’t.  A spot on description of yourself and what you are involved in towards me, I must presume.  Stop going for the throat of my communication and expression.  Leave me and my home alone.  I keep telling you, all of you in there.  Another little noise from his poor little voice.  Masters of illusion.  Please, have mercy on a poor, mafia-haunting bully next door, a mister entitled to rule and dominate and interfere man and his family (or whoever) who never leaves you alone.  Ha ha. Please, please.

Yep.  11 Birchwood Road, Wollaton, Nottingham.  Come and dig me out.  Rescue my soul from these dogs (as King David – and we all love Him – says in the Psalms).  He’s making a little, ‘no, I’m not a dog, I’m a nice man’ noise now.   Computer hacker – etc?  I’m in control of this communication, and yes, you and the rest of you in there, you are dogs.  Militant, satanic, mafia-style criminals.  Hate crime, me?  No, a reaction to one.  Psychological torture and vicious cruelty.  This language – this contemptuous, hateful language I am using?  It comes from being attacked by and exposed to these people all the time I am at home, and they get me feeling so debilitated I often feel afraid to go out.  Filthy, machine, violent, angry, harassing voices, both men and woman.  However soft they sometimes (and she most of the time) contrive to sound.  Please help me.  I’m not crazy or mentally ill.  I’m being targeted and tortured by my neighbours and otherwise ignored by the rest as far as they can.  I’ve said this for years and keep ending up in hospital.  I told my neighbours, hoping it would empower them to go to the police themselves, and instead they are using it as part of their terror campaign against me.  It got particularly bad about 8 or 9 months ago.  It had been going on at a low level for ages before, then he openly, outside my bungalow, came past swearing and shouting ‘leave’.  A little while later I began screaming and shouting for them to leave me alone and they have treated it all with complete lock-down and contempt.  Her soft little purring sounds – I wonder if they are supposed to reassure the sole male tenant that everything is going to be all right?  I wonder if they have had such assurances given them from outside when I have written about them before, particularly on Facebook last night?  I strongly suspect so.  It is possible this pressure cooker environment they have created towards me and my home and activities has got my imagination working overtime, but I would rather it did that than not work at all.  I just don’t like the material it is having forced on it to deal with.

A Funny Day

I’ve been staying in a hotel recently.  Today I went to see my mum.  People kept looking at me and grinning, or just staring.  Don’t ask me, no idea!  It happens a lot recently.  Dare I say that?  The mental health services always used to say that if I thought people were staring at me it was a paranoid idea.  Hence for some time I tried to live in denial of it happening and if it did, pretend it wasn’t.  These days, at the very least, I look straight at it without being overwhelmed with fear.  Sometimes I get angry and offended.  I can get really freaked out by it, when it happens all the time.

Two things happened when I got back to the hotel, the first was in the hotel and the second was in the Chinese cafe.  I’ll do the Chinese cafe first.

I went to have dinner in a Chinese cafe round the corner from my hotel.  After I had been there a few minutes I noticed it was all Chinese people eating there.  That made me feel good for two reasons, I like Chinese people, and they say that if a place like a Chinese restaurant has a lot of people from that country and culture there it speaks well of the food.

I was a bit freaked by what started happening after I had been there about 5 or 10 minutes.

Two women walked in and sat at the table opposite me.  They were NOT Chinese.  I’m not going to start talking about their ethnicity in case someone decides to accuse me of racism, and I did think that might be my problem.

At some point I started to sing quietly, either before they came in or after, I can’t remember, because I was feeling a bit nervous.  I find it very easy to feel nervous at the moment, especially when I am with people I really want to like me.  The woman facing me made a dismissive face, then went on to completely ignore me.  She started to talk to her companion and I got the impression there was something false about her voice, and she sounded to me as if she was making aggressive utterances in a soft tone.  At that point I thought I might be being racist.  She had an unchanging smile on her face and I felt annoyed by it, I really felt it was false.  Anyway, I settled myself about it and came to my own terms over it.  Every time I relaxed she said ‘my god’.  I hate this, it happens to me a lot, and I really believe there is a spiritual dynamic to it.  It feels like a prohibition to me, or like something grabbing at me.  In the end I ignored her and started to engage with other people, at first just with a smile, then in a couple of conversations with people either side of me.

The second conversation lasted about 10 or 15 minutes and I found it thoroughly interesting.  The subject of the unconscious came up, and the man was talking about Lacan, a name I remember from when I studied (on and off!) for my English degree but about whom I remembered very little if anything.  If I remember, the man talking to me said something about reality structures.  We moved on to other things as well, had a very pleasant conversation and laughed a bit, and I began to feel really relaxed and playful.  This must have come across in my voice, I felt it did, and the same woman, who had now been joined by a group, as I began to relax into speaking again loudly said ‘my god’ again.  I kept talking, compensating for my discomfort and annoyance by going very posh, but still laughing and joking and enjoying my conversation.  Even when she couldn’t see or hear me, after the man and his girlfriend had gone (actually, apart from this group opposite me, the man I was talking to was the only non-Chinese there apart from me, he was Greek, his girlfriend was Chinese), she still kept pelting out a ‘my god’ when I relaxed, and I in my little corner got annoyed and said just loudly enough to be heard, ‘medium’.  I do things like that, I am so vulnerable and get so freaked and desperate I don’t know what else to do with it, often.  This is a recent thing, since I started having problems at home.  When I eventually got up and paid the bill I heard several of them saying, over a few seconds, a word that sounded like ‘witch’ or ‘bitch’.  They kept repeating it.  It was freaky.  Apart from the ‘my god’ stuff they had appeared as sweet as you like up until that point.  I won’t say what I did with it, but I ignored them and focused on a friendly departure with the staff.  I don’t know who they were, or if they had deliberately followed me in (I’m sure it happens), but I think their behaviour was frightful, darlings!  It was so frightening, looking back.  I felt really harassed and targeted and couldn’t believe my ears.

Anyway, that was the second thing that happened tonight.  The first thing happened when I got back to my hotel room.  I came in feeling a bit cross and agitated, and I began to sing, in tongues.  At least, it wasn’t English, and it had a bit of a Native American feel to it, or something like that, I’m not too sure what I’m talking about.  It wasn’t the gently lilting, softly flowing stuff you sometimes hear, there was more production to it, it was coming from my gut and it carried my emotions and resolved them.  The next thing I knew I experienced something different from anything I had experienced before.  The domestic had left the bathroom door open, and suddenly the light, which was not switched on, began to flash on and off, several times.  That was how I got into the conversation with the man who talked about Lacan.  He and his girlfriend were looking at the tv screen the other side of me and laughing.  I turned to them and asked if they understood it, he said no, then said something about ghosts being big in Chinese culture, and I told him what had happened with my singing and the light.  He started talking about the unconscious and dreams, I asked him if he didn’t believe in the spirit world that can act independently of our unconscious and told him a story about Carl Jung, whose work I have been reading for a few months.  I’ve started from the beginning of the collection, apart from a look at one long essay further in at the beginning.  I am in the middle of a case study of a teenage girl who seemed to have abilities as a medium, though he did say that in the end she was found to be faking, but I’m not sure if he thought it was all fake.  At this stage he put the apparent phenomena and personality changes during seances down to manifestations of her unconscious.  I’m not sure if he continued to think like that, though.  Because I have read that later he thought his house had spirits in it.  I remember one story I read about him where his doorbell rang continuously on at least one occasion and he could see the doorbell’s mechanism, inside the house, moving and working.  Yet when he went to the window to see who was there, no one was, and at the same time the bell stopped ringing.  Not sure where tonight’s experience fits in with that, but that’s what it reminded me of.

OK, that’s it.  An abrupt ending, but I can’t think of anything else I want to say.  I feel a little raw and weird!

How Should I Blog?

I’ve been feeling for a while now that I am writing for an audience and I should give it something interesting or relevant.  When I first started blogging there was a lot of emergency feeling to the material I was putting out, I’m not feeling that so much now.  I have wondered if my blog has come to the end of its useful life.  I have also thought that writing on my blog is an indulgence I can’t afford if I’m to handle my relationships right, and that maybe my blogging and fear of the consequences  has been the problem in a lot of situations.  I think my blog needs to take a different direction, or maybe it’s just me that needs to take a different direction because I am stuck in a boring rut.

I feel incapable of writing about anything of interest, and as if I have said everything there is to say about my situation.  I can’t just keep going over the same old stuff all the time, there is nothing interesting about doing that.

I get anxious as well when I see some of the posts people are visiting, I think back on it and think it must all come across as paranoid rambling.  Also I don’t know who is accessing my material and why, because comments are left so seldom.  I wish more people would identify themselves and leave comments.  At the moment my statistics show I get between 20 and 30 views per day, but people don’t stop to comment.  Maybe they find my posts unreadable and all they do is alight then leave quickly because they can’t deal with what they find.  I continue to get followers to my blog.  I used to think my readership was church people and some people from the media and maybe the police, but I don’t think like that anymore.  It might have been true once, or maybe it wasn’t, but it certainly seemed true from things I was seeing and hearing, including sermons from church websites.

Off of my stated topic, I still feel worn down by the regimented life here at Broomhill House.  I still know about studies which show that antipsychotics cause brain damage and also shrink the brain and that people on medication have a shorter life expectancy, apart from the suicides of people who can’t take it anymore.  I feel so tired I want to acquiesce to everything and forget I have read these things, to comply and be happy to comply as if none of the things I have read by other people with concerns are true.  I want to forget everything I know has happened to me and dismiss it as paranoia, just as the psychiatrists do.  It would be so easy, at the moment, just to forget.  I want to approach church people and ask them, but there seems no point because they are closed and wouldn’t tell me the truth, they want to dismiss everything as just mental illness, but I know what I have heard from them.  They would rather have it that I am mentally ill than admit to anything that might be a bit untoward.  They would want me to accept everything they have done as OK or not admit to any of it to me.  I particularly feel that about David Shearman.

Paranoid?

One of the questions I used to get asked by psychiatrists was ‘do you think anyone is trying to harm you?’  My answer now would have to be ‘yes, I do.’  The man who viciously slandered me saying I had chased him up the street with a knife obviously has done something injurious to me.  I did not chase him up the street with a knife.  I didn’t chase him, and I never had a knife in my hand when outside my flat.  Other things have also been made up, presented out of context, or exaggerated.  Yes, someone has been trying to harm me, and has succeeded.  He is not the only person.  Other people have spoken and acted injuriously also.  I know what they have said and done, and have documented some of it in this blog.  It isn’t paranoia and shouldn’t be called paranoia.  That is bad practice and a miscarriage of justice.

This Morning

So, what happened this morning?  R in the wheelchair told me it was either Sue or Sharon who said she had legs, she should use them.  When she told me that they were both sitting opposite me and she just said the one sitting opposite, so that is as close as I have it for now.  They started whispering together and laughing.  It came up about Sue swearing at me and telling me no one liked me again, and she said I had no proof.  They told me I was boring and my blog, which they say they haven’t read, is boring.  They told me I don’t know how to use my brain and that I am paranoid.  Sue said I was paranoid when I was saying about her swearing etc.

OK, I don’t have proof, but she and I both know, and I know she is lying.  She lies even to say she isn’t lying.  What sort of person says that another has no proof when they are expressing that kind of concern and offense?  I believe I should not need proof.  They have almost absolute power over me and I think that I should not need proof in the same way that a person reporting a past sexual offense against themselves does not need it.  We are that vulnerable.  I hope it turns out that I do not need proof.

They were all shouting at me this morning and laughing at me and letting other people, patients, shout at me.  They kept taking their side and using them to have a go at me.  I tried to talk to the doctor about what was happening and they wanted to hang around outside the door and watch, as if I was dangerous, so I said I would talk to someone else.  Jesus said the same thing – why have you come at me like this?

I couldn’t eat lunch, it was too spicy.

Whatever these people want, I will not work with them.  They are Nazis.  I will not have it said that they are working with me by my consent.  I’m not sure what they think they are trying to achieve, if it is not just trying to disempower and humiliate me.  Helen was there again, Steve who was responsible, so I was told, for the decision to not even help me with my bed.  Steve stayed laughing in the background, the women worked me over.

It started because I was told I needed to be out of my room so they could do a cleaning audit, and I let them bully me out.  I wasn’t dressed, I hadn’t showered.  When I pointed that out Sue gave me an empty stare and said ‘tough’.  I’d had a bad night because a woman on my corridor kept slamming the door again, I think it was Kerry, but I’m not sure.  It also could have been staff.  When I wanted to go back in my room Sue was sitting there and she said ‘she won’t come out again’, then we got into an argument about my right to stay in my room, and the fact that they can’t manhandle us out if we are not a danger to ourselves or anyone else.  As I said last night, they know it is the only place I have and they are taking full advantage of that. They were saying the other patients were all out and I said they didn’t have to be because the law protects us.  They were goading me, with complete disrespect.  They stripped me naked and insisted I stay among them in my distress, with them tossing me around on their horns.  I’ve had the hospital as my only home for nearly 16 months.  It has always been untenable.  I told them I would probably be gone within a month because accommodation and discharge is being talked about, and one of them threw up their hands and said hurray, or something to that effect.  Two of the other patients started on me, one said I should be in prison or in a hostel and that they were going to phone the police.  She got on the phone and asked for Scotland Yard.  I told her I would happily be in a hostel but they wouldn’t let me go.  I’ve got to wait until after 4th September when my Care Co-ordinator gets back from leave, unless I can find out from my advocate that there is a quicker way of doing it.

I had a dream last night that I was looking after Brian May’s house for him while he was away.  I also dreamt about the whole of the original Queen cast, but their hair was up in frizzy bunches on each side of their heads, while they were singing.

Oh, apart from putting me in the wrong all the time they asked me if I wasn’t sick of the sound of my voice.

Of course my constant fear about my blog is that it isn’t making the difference I want it to make, that in spite of all the clicks people don’t read it and they do think it is boring.  All I can say is that I am a real person coping,or trying to, with a terrible situation.  And I think I have something to say which should be taken seriously and should make the difference I keep saying I want it to make for myself and for others.

Twitter and Facebook Obsessive

I have recently joined Twitter and Facebook and I am being really obsessive about it.  I’m a bit mesmerised by the numbers in brackets that come up on my tabs – or don’t.  I’m also babysitting that petition I mentioned in my last post.  I’m being obsessive about that as well.  I have noticed that, sometimes when I click refresh, the figures go backwards.  If I wanted to be paranoid I could say that someone is tampering with it.  I can’t think why else the figures would go backwards.

Moan, Moan, Moan . . .

I need to abandon this.  She has just, this minute after 2 hours at now 4.30 am, stopped talking.  I was eating a sandwich and drinking a small bottle of wine and every time I took a bite or lifted the co-op plastic party goblet to my lips, she screeched out or otherwise marked me.  It completely ruined it for me.  What should have been a pleasant late meal and a drink turned into a desperate, defiant act.  I felt I was acting like an alcoholic.  I need more than ever in my life to control the direction I am taking, and all I ever get is spoilers on my case.

So abandon ship.  The conversation ended as soon as I wrote the title and completely changed where I was going to go, which was to start off by saying that I am writing this morning out of my unredeemed self at 4.30 am taking an ear bashing and ball game type marking from an American baggage.  She had actually got up to go, but she has just re-appeared.  A couple of times in my unrestrained open talking to myself she said ‘yes no’ and it was interesting how and when.  I have adopted a position of not being intimidated into silence by the fact that other people are in 2s and I am alone.  If people are playing the psychological bouncing game I have a right to talk out loud to myself about what they are doing.  And I don’t have pretend mobile phone conversations to do it, I just do it.  No props.  I just comment and moan and pontificate aloud.  I don’t lose the right to speak just because I am on my own.  People in 2s and groups have been playing that card for too long.

Almighty Gob, to whom all ears are open and from whom no privacy can be hid.

OMG I hate steam rollers.

Now I should abandon and delete this because it isn’t helping me change my attitude.  The lady, having gassed while others were trying to sleep or focus on their own stuff, has no laid down to sleep.  I feel like disturbing her.  If I don’t turn this crap off in my speech and writing I can’t turn off the emotions that I start off thinking excuse it and make it a good post.  Of course no one wants to see this dilemma in a post they are reading, not spelled out.  At the moment I am putting what I have written in this post and the cleverness I wrongly think is expressed in it, before my own peace and character.  That is why I am not trustworthy myself.  If you don’t allow a change in your own nature when the choice presents itself, you stay as you are.  You can’t produce what you are not just because it is needed.

Freshly Pressed

AOL & About.Me – Booyah!

Look at my post, not the last one, maybe one or two before, that I wrote yesterday about AOL.  This seems so cute.  Seems is the operative word.  The post might be completely innocent and without knowledge, but is its selection?

I can contradict myself out of any conviction these days.

Question Time Teresa May

She looked sickly sheepish, didn’t she, all the time they were talking?  You have to feel a bit sorry for her, programmes like that are their own form of torture.

I thought she was looking that way about me, because they were talking about waterboarding, and I used a metaphor in a post a few days ago about having my head held under water until I tried to scream.  Everyone knows, obviously, that when you are under water you can’t scream.

But this morning I woke up and thought, ‘who set me up to think they were talking about me?  The presenter.  Teresa May really MIGHT not even know I exist, so why should I attribute anything about her to thoughts she is having about me?

But she has been looking that way ever since I started blabbing.  That is why I think there is something in it.

And following my post, ‘Note to my 16 and a half stone self’, she somehow made leaflets, which she repeated 3 times, sound like Lil-lets, which used to be my choice, and followed it up with firm stuff about going too far, crossing the line, being stopped. They do this all the time, grab hold of something really sensitive and personal and go into a strict, scolding tone to put a limitation on me.  I’m always unprepared for it, I never quite believe it when it comes, and it always leaves me feeling, ‘hey, you can’t do that’, or worse.  I can almost hear them saying, ‘if you don’t come to us we are going to keep doing this’.  Who knows that if I go to them they will find stronger ways to do that in a face to face relationship?  DA! (Bulgarian for yes).

I love Jesus, and I know I’m a bit of a stupid person, but if my life is being stalked and has been stalked in this way, I do want it stopped.  I also want the way the mental health system works challenged, because when people present saying things like this they are put on medication for paranoia.  It isn’t just the reaction of society that is injurious, it is everything, and sometimes everyone, that goes before it.

I no longer go into a situation telling people I have a mental health diagnosis.  The law doesn’t require me too, and that is right.  And yet, even though I choose not to disclose things I’m not under an obligation to and relate as positively and normally as possible, people, even here 2000 miles away, is it, start hitting me with words and snippets there is no way they could know unless someone is telling them.  And I know what I’ve heard and seen on the radio and television, here and elsewhere.  Everything is fine for a day or two, then people start going crazy around me, and at me.

I don’t know how long the stalking has been going on, but my whole life has been like this and my dad thought there was something happening.  I wonder if what I am getting is a continuation of what was going on with him.  I don’t understand why they would want to do it, though.  Not if it goes all the way back to my dad.  He had performance connections, I’m not sure how strong, I think they were in his family.  I haven’t seen them since before I was 10 years old, well before.  They disowned him at one point, he spent time in an approved school.  As far as officials are concerned, maybe they just decided we are a bad family.  My sister has had 3 children taken away from her.

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