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19th July 2018 08:26
Link to Post #1
A plea from a sane individual: Electronic Stalking & Mind Control
Hello, everyone. I am new to this forum, and am so thankful a place like this exists. I came here for a very specific reason, however.
Please, I beg of you, read my story, and if you have any suggestions, questions, or information, I would love to hear them. As a 29 year old woman, I just can't live under attack.
To articulate what one cannot even fathom to be real is where I begin.
I am 29 years old, have my Masters degree in Communication, taught at a university for 2 years, currently am Head of Communications and Director of US Relations for a medical tourism company, and suffer from the highest form of pain a person can experience because of my disability, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). I work hard, even through the pain. I wish to establish, first and foremost, that fact, evidence, and proof are what I base everything in life on. Some people pray to gods so that unfortunate events do not happen to them; I, instead, look at life in variables: what are the contingent factors that would possibly create a negative outcome? Which variables do I actively have a role in influencing? I look at things rationally, to say the least. So, what was to happen after being assaulted in my own home three weeks after receiving Spinal Cord Stimulator Implant surgery for my CRPS at Cleveland Clinic, tried the very essence of my being.
Since that time in May of 2016, I have been experiencing absolutely bizarre auditory and physical occurrences which I believe are tied to the spinal cord stimulator that’s implanted in me and scarred into my spinal column to provide a bit of relief for my CRPS, also known as the Suicide Syndrome. I refused to take opiates, which is what is typically done for people with CRPS, so the stimulator was the only option that the Clinic gave me; it sends electric vibrations down my affected leg to sort of “fuzz” out the feeling, kind of like when your foot goes to sleep. It sort of works, but I want it to be removed desperately. Since the attack, I could hear the digital sound as I pressed my external remote onto the left, lower side of my back to turn on my stimulator: it sounded like old school printers, mixed with beeps - long, short, then long electrical noises that then resulted in the signal being transmitted to my implant and turning on my stimulator to impart relief on my affected limb. I thought not much of it, until I asked my boyfriend at the time if he could hear it, because it was so audible to me. He couldn’t. Strange, no? Then, I developed tinnitus, but it didn’t stop at ringing in the ears. Something else was being picked up by the frequencies that my body was now fused to (with leads in my spinal column) to receive in order for the stimulator to work. I became a walking, talking, frequency receptor. Logically, it made sense. That is, until I heard the voices.
At first, it seemed like an observation, perhaps by my insurance company to make sure I actually was disabled, after spending $100K+ on my spinal cord stimulator. This is actually very common practice and has been openly documented; in fact, if someone believes they are being monitored, they can call their insurance company and ask. It is required by law to tell the person if they are indeed being audited. Typically, these last 3-5 days at most. I found it odd that I could hear them, and initially thought I had hyper acusis, which is an increased ability to hear things others might not pick up. It made sense, seeing that my spinal cord stimulator made sounds upon messing with its settings that only I could hear.
They monitored my work, as I had to start working from home due to my disability. They started out rather benign, observing my ability to work in relation to the pain I was experiencing. I was exceptionally fast at the job I had at the time, and have always been extremely efficient in whatever work I embark on. During this same period of time, the woman who attacked me in my home had been arrested and the court date was being determined. Then, one week after the incident, my tire on my car that hadn’t moved in a week since the attack, had mysteriously been popped by a massive nail. Kudos to her being discreet instead of obvious slashing my tires. But, I hadn’t used my car. It couldn’t have been merely coincidental. The woman who attacked me was now furthering her retribution on me because I told the cops that she assaulted me, a disabled woman, only weeks after spinal surgery. It definitely did not look good from her end, facing years in jail for the offense. So, she started stalking me. I would see her around my house, she even came back once openly to the public for a party my housemate was throwing, but I was too terrified to call the police on her, even though I had a restraining order on her. I developed PTSD due to this, which is so out of character for me as I am typically very confident and not fearful. She was, at the very least, mentally unstable, but in a psychopathic way, perhaps (and probably) fueled by drugs. She’d been known to act out violently and do drugs since a young age, as one of my best friends growing up knew her since she was a child. It was no surprise that when I asked attendees of the party to testify for me, she had essentially put a choke hold on them. Threatening words from a psychotic woman who beats up disabled people would be enough for me to shut my mouth. So despite an inundation of apologies for what happened to me by attendees of the party, no one would say it in court, not even the band whose afterparty we were throwing, appropriately enough, called Bully. They wrote me a long email apologizing for not taking action but were on tour and didn’t help with the case. It wasn’t hard to prove anything. Clearly, myself being someone who had never been in a fight before, well-educated, and three weeks out of spinal surgery, I wasn’t going to incite or willingly partake in a fight of any sort, and the medical records proved my emergency room visit and emergency trip 4 hours away to Cleveland were a result of her assault. My implant actually moved because she grabbed me by my hair upon attacking and brought me to the ground, leaving nail marks bleeding on my forehead. Regardless, I was able to gather evidence to prove her guilt.
But, as time went by, when I paid more attention to the voices of what I had figured to be insurance agents, I realized that it was actually people Renata had hired to see if I really was disabled. As if Cleveland Clinic would implant a spinal cord stimulator in me and diagnose me with the worst disability on a whim. She comes from money, so hiring a PI was her first move to try to counter my lawsuit against her. The frequency of the observers increased drastically, daily, for weeks, and soon began to include other voices, one of a man and another of a woman who sounded precisely like Renata, my assailant. So again I chalked it up to hyper acusis and went on with my work. But, whereas before the voices would only come around when I was awake or active, the man and Renata came around late at night and early in the morning. They threatened my life, my dog, my family, my boyfriend, and my ability to function to any extent. They were contacting me through frequencies, as I will discuss. Trust me when I say this was not an easy or quick realization, and the sound of it is completely absurd. I know. Try living it.
They overhauled my thoughts with scathing insults, and trying to dictate what I did on a second-to-second basis. They never left me alone and quickly, any semblance of privacy was entirely depleted. They did this when the legitimate, hired PI stalkers would be done for the day. The guy and Renata had a set schedule, even though they worked through the night to keep me awake, every morning at 6:30 they woke me up, knowing full well I hadn’t had more than an hour or two of sleep that night because of their incessant inundations. Legitimately, I thought I was losing my mind. It couldn’t just be hyper acusis if I was hearing them constantly. Then, I picked up a pattern: they would get louder when there was any type of consistent sound occurring, creating a frequency that I could detect, like when a widow-unit air conditioner was on, or a fan. It was a very hot summer where I lived, so the unit was on 24/7. It was noisy. Threats soon became realized as they immobilized me and peaked my CRPS pain by keeping me up for so long resulting in crippling sleep deprivation. I could no longer stand walking on my affected limb, even with the stimulator turned on, so I resorted to using a specialized knee crutch like a peg-leg (an iWalk), which wore me out physically but was the only way I was able to move around. My foot became so sensitive that when my dog passed by my foot, his hairs touching my affected area ever so slightly would send me into a pain-induced anxiety attack. CRPS is essentially a disease of the nervous system, and mine took to every vibration being an assault on my body. My anxiety and pain through the roof, both a result of the assault, lead me to lose immense amounts of weight due to an ulcer that formed. I was hospitalized in the extended care unit with the elderly for a week. The woman next to me died overnight and I somehow didn’t wake up as they wheeled her out. They were there then, too. Always out of sight, but present in mind. Days before the hospitalization, the voices followed me to my childhood home. I know that they were physically present due to an astounding discovery of a gun ammo strip I found the left of my house by the front porch. My parents acted like it was nothing, but, like back the **** up - no one just finds random gun accessories in their yard and thinks nothing of it. I know my parents were probably just trying to keep me calm at the time because I wasn’t even able to walk with my assistance device; I couldn’t stand. My parents had to literally pick me up and carry me to the bath, and my mom had to bathe me at the age of 28. I spent 3 days in their home because it had a first floor guest room, and I simply couldn’t step foot back in the home where I was assaulted. From my childhood home to the hospital, they followed. The incessant hum of hospitals, due to monitoring or drip IV, kept them loud and clear, and me in a complete state of paranoia and immense pain. I didn’t know if I was losing my mind, I just knew something was happening to me that I had never experienced.
I took things for granted before I became disabled, but CRPS humbles its victims really quickly. Transitioning to the acceptance phase of being disabled wasn’t easy but I did come to terms with it within the first 8 or 9 months after diagnosis. That change was hard to accept, but what could I do about it? It’s incurable. Nothing could be done. However, when a once articulate and sharp mind becomes inundated with thoughts of others, voices of others, you start to question reality. Even the soundest of minds wouldn’t stand a chance against the type of tactics that were used on me. They call me a “targeted individual (TI)” and the tactic is called ESMC (electronic stalking and mind control). I found this out only two days ago that other people went through this EXACT same type of scenario. This was just the first of many hospital stays they directly caused. I would yearn for a visitor so that my mind wouldn’t quiet and let them take over.
The hospitalization occurred after my birthday, which I spent at my favorite hole-in-the-wall of weirdos, completely frantic but trying my best to appear like I was sane. The stalking became so intense that I couldn’t think outside their flood of thoughts, perverse, racist, and generally the complete opposite of my thinking. I am a hardcore feminist and anyone who is in academia and studies feminism knows that it includes fighting for the rights of all people, regardless of gender, sex, race, religion, ethnic background, etc. My foundation is to stand up for the oppressed. I don’t know whether they knew this about me when they started with the particularly racist thoughts, but they tried. The thing is, it wasn’t exactly a racist thought so much as wanting me to hear the “n word.” Which I barely allow myself to hear in my head as I listen to “I’m Real” by J. Lo ft. Ja Rule on repeat, because, classic. In truth, I distrust white men more than any group of people if we are to divvy up people into superficial groups. I’ve been the victim of rape, in college and once after they came around. White men. Always. I just simply am not racist. This particular conditioning was onslaught by trying to replace any time I thought a word that started with “n” with that word, even if it was entirely out of place and made no sense. They then started to attribute any time I said “black” to something racist, which was bizarre because I own a lot of black clothing and black is up there on my list of favorite colors. So, you can imagine the confusion I felt at first when they started doing this. They then told me that I was being set up. They also said I had psychic powers. They said I killed a kid. They said they hid drugs in my coat pockets. They said they poisoned my dog. They repeatedly called my best friend my boyfriend and vice versa for absolutely no reason at all. They told me I was never going to be alone, ever again, and everything I said, everything I did, every thought I had, they’d know and they’d be there to observe no matter what. They, most of all, said that I wasn’t disabled. While clearly the lot of those threats were purely absurd, in such a way as to indicate to me that either I was bat**** crazy or something else was happening. Every doctor I went to dispelled any sign of mental illness, even when I asked them point blank if I was schizo or bipolar, being entirely honest about the auditory “hallucinations” I was having. I even went on a pill that was an anti-psychotic to rule out the theory: the voices persisted. I was sound of mind.
I am disabled, and it alone is really ****ty. I often tell them to this day that if they honestly think they’re going to be the death of me, they should experience CRPS. They’re nothing in comparison. But they did get one thing right: they never left, and they observed and continue to observe me at every opportunity. I moved to Italy and am getting married next month. They’ve quieted quite a bit since I’ve been here, though they make the air travel unbearable since the plane engines are so loud. The louder the white noise, or present audible frequency (even showering, with the waters resonance, is like a loudspeaker for them). However, ever since this morning on July 18, 2018, they’ve raised their voices for one of the first times since being overseas.The girl is starting to get frantic, repeated saying “I told youuuu” and “You’ve got to be ****ting me.” I can rest assured knowing the man will chime in, inevitably having some sort of super creepy, used-to-be threatening verbal assault later, per usual. But, like following a recipe, I can conjure them to speak up. They didn’t realize that the ruthless approach they initially took with me created a very calloused mind, able to ward off many of their attacks. I thought a bit more about the people behind the voices: they must have been brainwashed, too. Like in Nazi Germany, how the citizens just went along with the atrocity for the “betterment of the nation.” They “don’t know no better,” kind of thing. They’re definitively not intelligent, so it is a pretty viable belief that they’re susceptible outside influence when it comes to morals, susceptible to believing that the thought that putting a disabled woman through living hell in addition to unimaginable pain was an okay thing to do. That, or they are truly sadistic psychopaths. Or both. But, a thought worth some investigation at the least.
I wish to publish this here as my first time I have mentioned this at all on the internet. I know I am sound of mind. I’m a great debater, writer, worker, (soon to be) wife, and dog mom. I just have these lingering, awful stalkers that won’t even allow me the slightest bit of privacy. They intrude in the bedroom. They say they video taped me having sex, and would constantly remark on my body, which although thin, I still had body image issues with since adolescence. They made me relive all of the awful things that happened to me every day, over and over, via interrogation that never stopped. They laughed when I was having flare ups, they told me I was on drugs, which was so insulting considering I refused to even take opioids for the pain. They will start sentences, ask questions, pose threats, and try anything to distract me from my everyday life. I am already ADD, so imagine trying to be productive on top of that. Nonetheless, I still am productive. I’ve increased the revenue of my organization by 1/3. I save peoples lives for a living. I help those in need, and believe sharing is a duty if someone has more than they need, which I often do. I love my job, husband, dog, music, life, living in Italy. I came to live in Italy because the voices actually caused my CRPS to spread to my right hand in June 2017 and left July 2017. Losing your hands is an unspeakable horror. I couldn’t even hold a fork, so I fashioned it in the thumbhole of my wrist braces that I had to wear to stabilize my wrists and help from the spasms. I wasn’t able to write, work, eat, do anything. I was desperate and Cleveland Clinic told me in October of 2016 there was nothing more they could do for me until they offered Ketamine infusions, which I really wasn’t keen on. So I found Neridronate treatment in Italy, and by September, I was receiving treatment there. I moved there 7 months after treatment to help the organization that saved my life. I am now able to type 110 words per minute and walk for extended periods of time. My pain went from an 8-9 to a 1-2 which is incredible. Flare ups still happen, but only after I’ve really pushed myself and they’re still not as bad as the had been. I help patients with CRPS go through the treatment and act as a support figure for them during their hardship, because I was there. I have CRPS in 3/4 of my body’s limbs. I am no stranger to pain. And I can’t stand to see others be handled by the US healthcare system that does nothing to fix the problem, but rather, just medicate the pain. Neridronate permanently recalcifies the bone loss we experience, in addition to a multitude of awful symptoms.
I want to know: Why? Why me? Why was I targeted and continue to be even overseas? Why do other people have such strikingly similar stories to mine? How is this going unacknowledged by the masses? How have I been tested time and time again for mental illness, but never diagnosed by any doctor? Why, when there is complete silence, can I only slightly hear them, but when there is loud noise vibrations, I can hear them as if they’re shouting in my ear? “I know only you can hear us!” They’d taunt me. I’m frankly too busy with my own life to deal with this bull**** anymore. It’s time for answers. So please, any insight would be extremely welcome.
Last edited by TheDisinhibitedBrain; 19th July 2018 at 13:03.
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19th July 2018 09:38
Link to Post #2