Hidden Help….

Oddly enough some of the attackers are trying to help me.  I don’t think this is what they signed up for.  Also it seems that people who are attacking me are pretending that they know me and it’s all some elaborate practical joke.  Isolating me, acting like I am not to be taken seriously, threatening me, scaring me, stalking me and other gang stalking activity is not a joke.  It’s not a B-Rate Movie.  It is my real life.

Since this is a personal blog simply about my experiences as a targeted INDIVIDUAL I am stating plainly that trying to run me off the road on a back road in my early 20s was not a joke.  It has been signaled to me today out in the public that it was some kind of good-natured joke.  It was not a joke.

What I believed at the time and after a day full of signals am even more convinced of is this:  a group of guys getting criminal justice degrees at a local junior college around 1990 did know me.  They knew me through my sister.  I believe she married one of them.  All the rest of that group she hung out with ate at our apartment when we barely had food, but they came from middle class and upper middle class homes. One big meal to them didn’t mean anything.  We had to eat nothing but peanut butter sandwhiches for a week after they were over.  Because my sister wanted to impress the jerk she finally married, I couldn’t talk her out of feeding the idiots.  They learned all our habits.  They knew our work schedules.  They knew our class schedules.  They knew all our neighbors, everyone we went to school with, and the entire area like the backs of their hands.  They were involved with local law enforcement.  They were racist assholes who made jokes about scaring black people all the time.  Why my sister would put up with them was beyond me.  We fought over it.  She said they weren’t really like that, but just putting on a show.   I finally fought with her enough that it limited when those jackasses came to the apartment, how much food they could eat (no more feasts at our expense with my sister doing all the cooking), and I tried to make it uncomfortable for her to be around the jackass she finally married.

That made that little gang of wannabe tough guys furious.  They weren’t going to put up with me saying “no” to them, or acting like they were the idle, lazy, privileged scum on society that they were.  One of those jackasses is a sheriff now and has been for decades.  One works at the Post Office.  One has a family that owns a big farm/ranch in the area.  They are all pretty much “upstanding citizens” who are really absolute scum who do not have to play by the rules all the rest of us have to live by.  They are all involved in some version of community watch even though it’s more like county watch and they always have been.  They can signal to all their buddies and me that it was good-natured joking.  It was not.  I think I know the exact one who tried to drive me in the ditch that night and I fully believe he would have raped me, maybe even killed me.  At the very least a message was sent to me that they knew everything about me and could strike at any time…and would strike.

Well, now my nieces are in their early 20s and driving down the same roads we drove down when we were all their age.  These same jackasses are still around.  My sister is dead.  She died in horrific, pointless pain because that jerk husband of hers that I told her not to marry, sat in the room with her while she was screaming and crying out in unthinkable pain, her body being eaten alive by cancer, and he didn’t take her to the hospital, he didn’t call an ambulance, he didn’t try to get Hospice out there…nothing.  That’s another reason I know these guys aren’t kidding.  I feel like the way they let my sister die like that right in front of me was done on purpose as a sign to me and my family that we better go along with anything this bunch did, or else.

There was nothing funny about that.  And they had backing from some very high up people; people who know senators, governors, big oil money, and stuff like that.  To them all our lives are a joke for them to play with at will.  I’d rather die just like my sister, though, than act like this is all just some fun game and like life doesn’t really matter.  Like life isn’t amazing and something that should be revered, no matter how much money a person has.  All these people really care about is how they look to others and how much money they have.

I’ve been deliberately flashed a bunch of Freemason signs today, too, just for the record.

Now, a lot, and I mean A LOT of people are not awake to all this kind of stuff.  Even people who are monitoring me and sent to do stuff to me and my property have no idea what is really going on.  But they are caring people.  Not all of the people in this are that group of scum I was referring to earlier.  I try to give them a fighting chance.  Since they don’t know what I know, but they have to listen to what I listen to, I run interviews, lectures, and any information that can help them see the big picture most of the time.  They have to hear what you hear.

I personally really like Ella Free’s YouTube Channel.  I like her Whistleblower Heroes too, even though it’s not just about targeted INDIVIDUALS.  I like Dr. Eric Karlstrom.  He doesn’t have a channel, but he has done a lot of interviews.  He did a year long series on the Kevin Bakker Show on YouTube.  I don’t agree with everything Kevin Bakker thinks is true, but that series of interviews is very good.  I like Fritz Springmeier mostly for Mind Control information.  The people monitoring me probably don’t have that, but it doesn’t hurt for them to hear how evil this stuff is.  If you have even a little morality then torturing children to split their minds and force them to do your will should seem evil.  Also when I snap, which I do very often, if they have any mercy in them maybe they will kind of understand.  I really enjoy Stop007.  Some very brilliant women have gotten together and are doing all they can to fight this New World Order stuff.  There is a YouTube channel and a WordPress page on that.

Also my Watchers, the people monitoring me,  signal me back.  It’s hard for them to get in a word though with all the signaling from the ones who really hate me.  Still, I try to watch out for some positive signaling.  Again, it helps to just go by gut instinct since there’s no real way to know if a signal is from someone who cares or not.  And sometimes the people who care send information that isn’t really helpful.  No one is perfect.

There are some wierd rules that I have picked up on over years of repetition.

1) No one can help me.  Even if I ask for help, it is iffy.  The people that hate me will say that they don’t know how to help me unless I tell them how.  They almost killed me with that.  I was fainting, hitting my head on file cabinets at work, passing out and hitting my head on work’s concrete floors, and they would just do what I told them to do.  Of course, I can’t really remember what I told them to do, but they swear that I never really wanted help.  I think that’s a lie.  I think what they mean is that I didn’t specifically say “call 911”.  I could never get a real answer and was given the run around by the workplace, the municipality I worked for, Workmen’s Comp (what a joke!), and even my primary caregiver.

My Dad is dead now, but he was still alive for the end of my working career.  He encouraged me a lot.  He started telling me over Skype, “I NEVER helped you, did I?  I mean, I never helped you.  You found your own way.  I didn’t do it for you.”  I agreed with him.  In fact I was actually mad at him and my mom for not helping when I was just out of high school.  But my Dad looked scared.  Like he was in trouble with someone.  I wasn’t “awake” yet, so it seemed very wierd to me.  Then my Dad told me this story he had told me over and over for my whole life.  He entered an art contest at school when he was in grade school.  It won the school competition, county, and then went to state competition.  They sent it back unqualified with a note that said, “Too much help from teacher or parents.”  He scoffed.  He said no one helped him with it at all.  He just sat down and did it and they acted like a kid, like him, without art education couldn’t possibly do a picture that good without help from an adult.  Even though Dad didn’t “win” the competition, he took it as a sign of how well he did on his art.  He would say at the end, “You should feel that way too.”

2) These people behind the scenes represent a lot of different groups.  At least that is how it is for someone monitored their whole life like me, but I suspect a group of powerful people are involved in everyone’s targeting.  Make a stand on whatever subject keeps coming across your path.  For some reason if someone doesn’t like your stand on something, then they will keep trying to break you down.  Or it will just be the topic of the day.  If you make a stand, and I mean something as minimal as writing in your own personal journal how you feel, then that gets them talking behind the scenes.  They will end up in deadlock fights where no one can get the power to take control.  They will be fighting over that issue.

The last issue I triggered like this, was with this blog and my comments about community service patrol and various things I have said about targeting and monitoring.  I can tell that behind the scenes different groups are fighting it out about how to monitor, how to treat, when they have to intervene and help, etc.  So they are gridlocked fighting about it.  It gives me a little break.  It’s still tough, but I get a little break and a chance to breath a little.  Plus maybe it really will make a difference and help someone who doesn’t even know they are targeted if some power group can get some real humane treatment put in on the other side.

3)  Write. Write. Write.  Write in your laptop, iPad, or whatever so they can forward it around in their little hidden part of the world.  I am sure they share my journal pages which I title by the date and Hell Experiment Day XXXXXX.  I have it dated for my whole life since I’ve been in this for a lifetime, but the journal only really started in 2016.  I write honestly about what hell it is to be targeted.  I know some of them have no empathy and no conscience, but others are fairly normal people.  They need to see what this feels like.  They want to use us like lab rats?  Well, this lab rat is going to keep her own lab notes.

Since doing this my treatment has become both better and worse.  When the bad ones get a shot at me now, they really try to hurt me.


One of the signals that has come my way was a book I was lent that was called “The Host” by Stephenie Meyer.  In it the creature that takes over the body of a human has to realize how the human feels and then tries to help her.  That in turn helps the creature.  I think someone was trying to say that they are trying to understand how I feel since they have hijacked my life.  My response was eventually to start writing how it really feels.  I could tell that they were hoping for certain results and were always focused on that.  This is my life.  I’m not focusing on scientific results.  I am focused on…and I write all that whatever I am focused on at the moment.

Just some things to think about.

God bless everyone going through this with me, even if I have no idea who you are.  I pray we come across something that breaks the momentum of this evil force and disperses it.  I pray we keep up the good fight of faith.

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