coming through a psychological manipulation, including and especially when its been infiltrated against you through social media, its important to stick to your foundation; the place you know that was real. I’m talking about like how I saved things that reminded me that their gaslighting and bullshit was real even while I didn’t want to accept that my doctor’s group would do such a terrible thing. They did everything to make me look to people like I was unstable, crazy, and out of control, even lacking discipline. It was all bullshit, created by a false narrative, but accepted because the ones who orchestrated it all had the credentials to be believed above my own. So what I did while its been going on was always to return to the place that I knew was real. And during the tribulations I kept proof to myself that what they were doing was real. Yah, sure, sometimes I’d flip out because it was too much to handle and sometimes I rip to pieces or delete some evidence. Or maybe I wasn’t fast enough to capture it, especially because when it first happened I only had a lame flip phone and the computer tower, and there was no screen shots back then. That is how long this has been going on against me, and yes the PsyOp has, officially, been going on since mid 2005. I told a friend today that good men have apologized to me as they were doing the bidding of whomever is in charge of this PsyOp. I cannot think its been anyone other than Deep doo doo Kevin and Daddy Dearest Sr. and those cronies. Sure, sure, sure, they’ve been giving all kinds of reasons. I’m still hearing them. But do you know what? I’m hardened to that bullshit. Its been how long? HOW LONG? And my whole life has been being destroyed. Oh but wait, they gave me a bullshit job at the F.A.A. that wasn’t earning me enough to pay the car insurance let alone the gas or the bus ride to get to work. Yet the fuckers at the F.A.A. were being told by the head of the D.O.T. that the one week’s pay would be made back to them that they’d missed, making those fucker “whole” is what was told? Fuck that. Fuck them. I had fucking Sally Smith telling me in front of the Army dude that “they” put their penises into the mouths of the enemies. And she was telling me that her black friends were telling her to play the white man’s game to make the money she was. Whatever. They weren’t paying my bills, so no getting fucked in the mouth wasn’t paying off for me. Not at all. It still hasn’t, and I keep trying to work, keep trying to make a living, and they keep “promising” me Daddy is on his way. Whatever. Daddy can’t make me whole again. I was whole before. Being whole before is what’s kept me alive and sane while the assholes as Multicare and Daddy Dearest were destroying my life, while psycho the rapist and his dishragarita were lying and fucking killing me. And still they think they can send their, “Daddy is on his way back…and he MIGHT come to Ohio and if he does he surely will want someone like the Lonely Hearts Club Gordon versus……HER (me.)” Whatever. Its all a lie, its all bullshit. The assholes who are saying it don’t even know that they are being chumps. It cracks me up. The idea that Daddy is going to show up, going to come a knocking on my door after the war is over, and that I’m going to throw my arms welcome him….that ain’t going to happen. It might have happened…oh except he told Judge Finkle that when its all over he wants me to know that he doesn’t want to see me again. That pretty much finalized everything as far as I was concerned. On wait, no, it was finalized when he fucked me in the mouth even though I said no. And it was finalized even more when he had dishragarita screaming into my phone that everyone hated me, that I deserved cancer, and deserved to die. And it was finalized more as he terrorized me on social media, and has taken me to court over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. So yah I’ve pretty much gotten the message. So no the big homecoming isn’t even anything I’m looking for. Funny the PsyOp is still trying to sing me that old song. I try to be gracious, rather than staying, “Jane you ignorant slut (said like Dan Akroyd to Jane Curtin.)” No, I don’t masturbate to Kevin. I don’t masturbate to anyone. If I was going to masturbate to anyone it would be to the memories of my X husband because I really dug him, but he’s married to someone else now, so it would be sacrilegious to do that. No, I don’t want another Daddy. I had one for 28 years, and I liked him since I was 13 years old. No, there isn’t a new life for me, no wondrous new career, no new make over after the destruction. Don told me I wouldn’t make it without him and at the time I was out of my head from the psych drugs and I wanted to prove to him that I could, and that after I made it then we could get back together so that he would respect me again like he did before. But that never happened because Kevin raped me, defiled me, so that I could not return to Don when he wanted me to. We were working our way back together until Kevin raped me. I told him Kevin raped me. At first he thought I meant Kevin my brother in law! I said NO not Kevin! Kevin my Ethics professor. And that was the end of that for Don & I. His friend Lawrence was fixing him up with other women and I’d been defiled in the PsyOp. Sure it makes me sad that Don moved on. He said we were forever. I haven’t been with anyone since. Rape is not a relationship. Rape is not being with someone else. Rape is rape. Its not sex. Its about control, and Kevin even now is trying to control me. But he cannot have a real relationship. He doesn’t know how. I do. I’ve had one. So if he pretends to the people, to the Lonely Hearts Club magistrate, to John Kahler, to whomever, that when his war is over he’ll be coming home….it won’t be to here. Its not like I’m going to say hey you stupid bitch Gordon you can have him. Its like I’m saying you’re kidding me? The dude doesn’t even exist. To wit a few years ago I told Carolyn Averso or her sister that I’m writing a book called The Man Who Doesn’t Exist….and that is Kevin. Everyone thinks he exists, but he doesn’t. So no I don’t expect him to show up. He doesn’t even exist. He doesn’t even know who he is, himself. He’s a PsyOp. He fucked me over. He’s fucked over a lot of women. Some men too. When he was screaming on top of me that I am toxic, then that he is toxic, then that we both are toxic, in reality HE was the only one toxic. I was there. He was not. Not my fault. I’m tired of carrying the load for someone who doesn’t even exist.
I’ve kept myself sane because I’ve known what is real and what is not real.