The joke is on me

OR – Just because you DON’T believe they are after you, doesn’t mean they aren’t.

How would you feel if you’d reached retirement age only to discover you’d been played for a fool your whole life through?

A quick summary of where my tolerance got me, as I explained away persecution as separate, unconnected events.

.          At primary school for no apparent reason I alone was switched out of one teacher’s class to another, which meant I was streamed into an extremely bad (in the emotionally abusive sense) teacher’s class in a later year, and out of the alternative very good teacher’s class. That teacher made me his prime target for bullying that year and even tried to get the rest of the class to gang up against me in the playground.

I didn’t think anything of it. I never assumed a perfect world filled with perfect people and it didn’t occur to me to question what the school was doing. 

.            In one of my first jobs I was sexually harassed into leaving. As in the deputy manager cleared the office so that only myself and he were there, so he could pester me to his hearts content.

Again, it never occurred to me this might be targeted persecution to push me out of work. I put it down to bad luck, there are a lot of sexist men. 

.             At University after a policeman had gone out of his way to make my acquaintance by accosting one of my flat sharers on the grounds she had parked in the wrong place, (she had stopped in front of a shop to buy a pint of milk), the same policeman kept turning up, gave me an (unwanted) pile of porn mags and asked invasive questions about my sex life(which was virtually non-existent) suggesting “I should dress up”.  Soon after my remote terraced cottage was plagued by weird men who would have had to go out of their way frightening the lady on one side who sold up and the old man on the other who bought a guard dog .

A household I baby sat for started getting mysterious phone calls. One of the boys answered the phone and told me he knew who the caller was, a member of an IRA family.

I was turned down for post-graduate BEFORE taking my finals. Up till then I had been getting 1’s and high 2:1’s.

After University I applied for work in the area, but couldn’t get anything. I would go to interviews and there would be a police car parked outside and the prospective employer would act strange and refuse to interview.

When I moved to another area and got a job some policewomen came into the shop and spoke to the owner. After that the owner started asking me peculiar questions, like sometimes I appeared distracted. (I had been recently bereaved).

After I had had trouble finding work and so had spent some time unemployed, a relative I was not close to aggressively questioned me about “people who don’t want to work and spend their life on the dole”.

Working for a charity on a help-line I was on the night shift, when the new recruit came upstairs and jumped on me for sex. I went into a state of mental paralysis, as there was no warning. As I was not in a relationship at that time I was not on contraception and was thinking of the disastrous consequences of unmarried pregnancy in Ireland at that time. Abortion, available in UK was not available in Northern Ireland, and in the early 70’s illegitimacy involved total disgrace which would have extended to my parents also. Fortunately I did not get pregnant.

.        Regarding the police, I just assumed one bad apple. it did not occur to me that there was any reason for  the police to take an interest in me – as there wasn’t any reason to take an interest. I am not a criminal and then I was apolitical with zero interest in Irish politics. Nor was I Catholic, the usual excuse for unwarranted police meddling.

But I was mystified by the stalking. I was too poor to have a social life and didn’t know anybody.  

It did not occur to me to question the University as I supposed they were professionals and knew their job – but I was still mystified as to why I had been turned down.

The phone calls to the baby sitting house was weird and confused everyone – but I couldn’t connect it to anything.

It seemed that the police were preventing me from getting work. I could not think of any reason why they would do this. What has this got to do with policing?  Police visiting the shop where I had got a job was inexplicable. 

When I moved to England for work I had endless problems with neighbours. Good neighbours would move out to be replaced with women-abusing men, rapists and wife batterers. At two separate addresses I was stalked by threatening men who were complete strangers.

After a huge array of problems at two addresses, before we moved into the third, the worst place of all, my husband commented “Why are we so unlucky?”  We had moved from our first address when an IRA man moved in. Moved from the second when the people upstairs gutted the building with fire.

I did not think anything of my husband’s remark. I supposed, you live in London these are the problems you get. 

When my husband and I were priced out of London we moved to North Yorkshire. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer. For the first 9 months his care was exceptional. For the last three, it was the reverse. Medical staff appeared to be ignoring dramatic symptoms of obvious and treatable conditions. In despair I was resorting to a medical diagnostic, and repeatedly put his obvious symptoms in front of them – symptoms indicating heart failure, mini-stroke, etc, which they ignored. Only if I asked for specific treatments, such as a prescription for diuretics did they respond. His extra suffering in his last months was unnecessary.

It was only when the medical failures became obvious I started to question my husband’s treatment. After my husband passed I was subjected to such strange behaviour from one of his relatives I sought for an explanation on Wikipedia questions. I was told the odd behaviour was “gas lighting” and they also suggested I look at “mobbing”. When I checked these out I discovered “gang stalking” and found out a life time of “bad luck” had nothing to do with luck, but was being organised. In this context my problem was not “paranoia” but the absence of it. There was no reason for anyone to bother with me so I assumed I was experiencing random events.

So, how do you feel when you discover in old age you’ve been played for a fool your whole life through?

The only conclusion I can come to. NEVER TRUST AUTHORITY. Don’t be tolerant. Don’t accept bad apple excuses. When something goes wrong hunt it down to its source. Tell everyone what has happened. Turn a spotlight on the crooks. Find out what has happened to others and listen to them. The black community have borne the brunt of socially orchestrated persecution and they know more about how it works than anyone. Listen to them. They are telling the truth. Our rulers are lying.