Your Perspective, My Perspective – From My Perspective

The ultimate goal of gangstalking is suicide. Now you know.

I am realizing that I am being judged by people who live very different lives from people who are not in their group. Therefore, the way my actions, words, dress, movements are interpreted may look different than what your group’s values dictate.

I don’t like to interpret what a group is like based on just my observations. However, that is all I have to go on. You may have been told things about me that are untrue, but maybe you see things that validate what you have been told.

First of all, I do know that there is a saying about of this world and not of this world. I have read that your group is a huge part of your life. Your family is a huge part of your life. So, I assume that most of the people you interact with are those people from your group. The people at work are behaving the way people do at work which can be different from the way people behave at the store, with friends and with their own families. What I am trying to say is, many of you have very limited experience with those outside your group.

To make this even more difficult is that I think you are taught to be rather reserved. Maybe you don’t strike up conversations with strangers in the grocery line. Maybe you don’t talk to the checker or bagger except in response to what is needed or to inquire about the subject at hand – buying and bagging of groceries. I do have some experience with that.

My family lived for four years in Minnesota. That was the way it was there – at that time north of St. Paul. It was difficult for my husband and I. He would joke around with everybody and the wonderful people of Minnesota just didn’t understand his jokes. I can strike up a conversation with a lot of different people. So, in Minnesota, waiting in line was a different experience for me.

Maybe you are supposed to pay attention to your business and not what is going on around you – unless you are with someone you know well. Or, you see someone you know well. If that is the case, you might not have paid attention to others like me. Take a day or two just to observe (maybe after the fires). You might be surprised at the interactions you observe/hear.

Dress – When I was younger, my mother would stay that my style of dress was pretty classic; it consisted of clothes without prints with classic lines, and often with a simple collar. It was difficult for me to even wear slightly different shades of a color. Finally, in my 60’s, I am just beginning to be able to wear a few shades – earrings not exactly the same blue for example. I now like patterned shirts at times. It works for me at my age, with my face. I have one a bit outrageous shirt: a blue shirt with three very sparkly butterflies. I bought it just to wear sometime when I was being gangstalked. Just because.

Singing and talking to myself. I remember the first time that someone noticed that I was talking to myself. It was in the supply room at the first school I worked at. 1977. I said something “under my breath”. A fellow teacher laughed and said that she talks to herself also. I probably do it too much, but it’s not uncommon for me to say, “Drat”, “Pooh”, etc. when I am by myself. Before that, I gradually had gotten so that I said the sh word when really peeved. Not in public. Heaven forbid. Yes, I do talk like that at times: Heaven forbid – parents, great aunts, yep. Add on learning what part V has played in this relentless non stop barrage of cars, “accidents”, illnesses, bouts of diarrhea, violations of my spaces, being conned over the last year – completely conned, belongings stolen (earrings from my grandparents), mobbed at work, gaslighting by my Ex, pills stolen, and on and on. Yes, I have cussed. A few of the words were added on starting three years ago. Most of the words, particularly words I really never thought of let alone used, I have started using over the last three months or so. I really do understand what they mean now. At some point, that will make me really sad. I said three years ago (when the second round of gangstalking started) that I would not cry. I didn’t until the con was under way and I thought I had to leave my family. The second time was just now when I was thinking about what has made me and my family strong – cancer, my cousin, OUR trips to Tahoe – NOT V

Singing. I sing a LOT in the car. I sing even more when I am being gangstalked, and don’t have something else to occupy my mind. It’s been seven years and I am still here, so this technique has worked for me. I was raised with music and singing music in the car on family trips. My parents listened to their music every night before dinner. I was exposed to multiple genres of music because of them and because the youngest and oldest “girl” in my family are 15 years apart. Musicals were part of my life. My grandmother taught us songs when we would go places. My mother taught us songs on family trips. I learned camp songs. My ex husband and I loved Lobo for our roadtrips. I try to get some CDs that I can sing to for trips.

Laugh – I laugh a lot. I smile a lot. So do my family and friends. If you were to walk in on one of our multi family dinners at Tahoe, you would see maybe 8 kid/adults sitting around the table playing a competitive Solitaire. Maybe 4 people sitting around talking and laughing and working on the jigsaw puzzle. When there were younger ones, they would be playing hide and go seek after an adult set the ground rules. “You may go into our room, but not XXXXXXX, and XXXXXX.” 3-6 or more of us fixing dinner or cleaning up – after everyone scraped. It would be loud, but not out of hand, and there would be a LOT of laughter.   And all of us would smile when/if we got to hear my female cousin give her wonderful big belly, ha, ha laugh. Laughter has gotten us through so much. It’s gotten me through the last seven years of gangstalking. Yes, seven. My cousin lost her dad, her mom, her aunt, her husband, her uncle, and her sister in a very short timespan. It was so wonderful when we started hearing her laugh again.

This is strange, and only people who have been to our gatherings know this. We adopted a song a while back as our song. We sing it at many gatherings including “celebrations of life” (funerals/memorials):

“Oh we ain’t got a barrel of money, Maybe we’re ragged and funny, But we’ll travel along, singin’ our song, Side by side. Oh we don’t know what’s comin’ tomorrow, Maybe it’s trouble and sorrow, But we’ll travel the road, sharin’ our load, Side by Side

Through all kinds of weather, What if the sky should fall, But as long as we’re together, It really doesn’t matter at all

When they’ve all had their quarrels and parted, We’ll be the same as we started, Just a travelin’ along, singing a song, Side    by     side. 1905 

At my dad’s memorial meal – at my parents’ 57 year old house, the now 7 cousins were standing in a circle. Someone said we needed to make a pledge that none of us would die for five years – yes, strange and morbid, but it seemed right at the time. We made a pledge and everyone in the room sang “Side by Side”.

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