I'd like to unload myself and tell my story to people
in the US, as it might be a warning to others. I am an American
stranded overseas. I ask
you to forgive this hasty and extemporaneous description,
which will be more forgivable when my circumstances
become clearer to you. I am a hounded victim. I have wanted to return
to the US for the last twenty-five
years but the structure of the chaos I am in has prevented this.
Let me explain how: mainly via anthrax attacks on me. I have
been 100% blind three times. Now my eyesight is very poor.
My teeth were "attacked" over the years by a dishonest dentist
who injected anthrax into my guns and under my chin, via a hole
he drilled completely through the jaw bone. Another dentist told
me this, when it was too late. My problem now is that I am old,
prematurely aged through all the anthrax attacks. So, because
of that, criminals conspired to "kidnap" my daughter and to
stigmatize me with false accusations of mental illness, for which
they are eager to pump a lot of drugs into my bloodstream. I have
no social life, work parttime at my computer and have never
broken the law. What happened was: One day while heating milk
on the stove, I dozed off while sitting in my chair and the fumes
spread under the door before I could stop them. For this reason,
the police turned up at my door. A few weeks before this event I
had grown very worried about the situation of my daughter (grown)
She had become unreachable, eventually, even failing to pick up
her Xmas and birthday gifts. From her bank statements that were
still coming to my house, I saw that money was being withdraw on
her ATM card from banks all over the world, Switzerland, Ireland,
China, Israel, etc. I wondered what was going on with her. Because
I was disdraught with worry and speak Dutch poorly, the police threw me
Into the can and had a psychiatric facility investigate me. During that two hours
I was shut up in an airless cell, with no sink or toilet and a video camera
scanned me continuously. There was a huge grill like dome in the concrete unit. The leather mattress in the airless room stank and a zillion microbes escaped into the air from it. While removing a rubber band from my hair, a lady smeared an anthrax laden gel all over my neck and shoulders, which later developed into horrific, scabby infected places on my skin.
To make a long story shorter, my daughter eventually surfaced at her
place of parttime employment, but she was never encountered in her
own apartment, which looked abandoned. One day recently, I dropped
by her house and encountered three strangers leaving her house, locking
the door behind them and saying that my daughter should arrive back
from Nicaragua in a day or two, perhaps. Feeling these people to be
a component in the mystery and not knowing that my daughter "had returned"
nor whether her possessions had been burglarized, I decided to make a
report to the police, despite my hideous appearance, because I felt waiting
to report it later would be unsatisfactory. The police officer did not report
the episode, because there was a record of the two hour session with psychiatrist
on his computer. Instead, the health workers were called in. I realized
I was being purposely stigmatised for the two
hour session with the psychiatrist. Every piece of red-tape I try to handle,
there is always a record about me on the institutional computers. Let me say
also that there has been a surreptitious change of government, where all the
old psychiatric institutes have been usurped, just like the supermarkets and
institutions of education. They have all been taken over by a new power on the stage,
with or without due elections or public support.
Once in a while, I emailed my daughter. I used to get a brief response but the last
wrote her, I received a frightening letter of SPAM, the subject of which contained
every letter of her name, namely, the subject contained an anagram of my daughter's name.
And the content of the email was about "beheading" "amputation" "cockpits" and all sorts
of suggestive, horrific words.
One day I found a photo of my daughter with two other persons, taken about
10 years ago and one of those persons was the social worker, who has been
stigmatizing me and discussing her theories regularly, about my need for
drugs, which she wants to administer to me, with my ex-husband. I realized that
the social worker was part of the "cult" who had barred me from seeing my daughter
but that she had risen up under the new government, acquiring a job with the new
social work system and acquiring a uniform and authority. She was not a psychiatrist
but she had authority and visited my ex-husband and me regularly
