My real loss in this life came sometime in 1990. I had already felt stalked and treated badly since 1988 since I discovered a large group of people just staring at me in 1987 at a restaurant. It progressed to seeing people sneering at me on the street and feeling watched and followed wherever I went. I still felt it was just some kind of vendetta from a local person that maybe I had angered. I was getting “watched” in grocery stores as if they expected to steal. I got scared and went to my therapist and told her and I was put onto Haldol by a doctor. I learned to close my mouth and suffer alone for the most part. Talking about it caused arguments.
One summer I was living in a community of mentally ill people after Mother had kicked me out of the house for a small argument. This was to make me feel as if I had bona fide mental illness…hey, maybe I do now…they drove me bats! I went there the first time at the request of a therapist and the labelling began. Whatever I “have” I’ll never know but I get constantly changing diagnoses based on how they want to manipulate me at the moment.
I had moved there the past winter and was struggling to survive and pay the astronomical rent for one room and 6 meals. One day, I decided to play a guitar a counselor had lent me and I thought I would put some poems I wrote to an easy set of chords. As I was doing it, the phone rang. The house phone not a cell phone. Some strange man on the phone asked if I lived there and what kind of place it was, blah blah blah….no one was there when I came to the phone. It was a warning not to play the guitar anymore.
That was the day I finally realized that I was being watched and all the rude encounters were probably part of it. I knew “they” were after me not knowing who “they” were. It was horrifying. I knew then my “freedom” was an illusion. It never got better after that but worse. It was The only thing I had: freedom from living in America had been stolen from me. I was supposed to be an American but I was the Enemy and I could not figure out why. My family had escaped the Holocaust by coming to this country before the war and now a personal Holocaust was being carried out just for me.
It started off kind of mild so I was sort of able to continue my life and work for awhile but only for awhile. I had a dark shadow on my life. My shadow and misery, the perps follow me everywhere. I could never feel happy and joyous in public again. I was “on camera”. My life started to retract and get smaller.
The shadow persists and gets worse every day.
The Hated One