u/Key_Plane_3281

I'm so upset.

No one has followed up with me. Not an e-mail, not a phone call, not a visit, nothing.

No asking for my documents I couldn't upload. No clarifying questions or anything.

I just feel like not giving a reference number to be able to track the status - how do I know that someone inside the FBI didn't just delete my tip because their cousin might be involved?

How do I know that a hacker didn't get into their databases and delete my crime reports?

Not saying that this happened to me specifically - but we KNOW they do get hacked ala the Epstein Files that went missing before publication.

And who knows how often that happens they just do not talk about OR just aren't skilled enough to catch.

Just think this phone system is terrible and not supportive of victims.

I did not report a vague "tip" of a possible crime that may have occurred that I would have no reason to follow up on.

I reported a crime that was committed against me that I have evidence of and that I have lost a lot due to. How can they even determine the merit of my report if they don't contact me for the evidence of the crimes I collected?

I'm just furious.

I called the Boston Field Office and its an endless loop of incompetence.

The operators say they can't do anything and send you to intake. Intake says they can't do anything and that if they feel like it they'll reach out.

Call the main office in DC? They send you back to the original office in Boston for the same intake pointlessness that got me to call the main office in the first place.

WHY can't they have someone who can look my info up and see the status of reports made? And just tell me that?

Honestly, it is awful way to treat victims of crime. Horrible way.

It truly feels like they just deleted my reports and are doing the most to hide the fact they did. That's what this feels like. Is it true? IDK their is no one to give me a status update or even a reference number so I DONT know if there has been a record created.

Truly, if they poked around and "found nothing" or found "pending further review" those are two things that i should have access to know. Because being able to tell me either one of those things means that it wasn't just deleted and actually was, at a minimum, received and the eyes of the human were on it.

I just think this current system is very dehumanizing.

Why isn't anyone being treated like victims matter at all?

She quipped about her unpaid hobby, probably more than she should have. She was notorious for leaving that cash on the night stand, changing her number, and moving cities before anyone bothered to try knocking on her door to see what happened.

The psychological effect of refusing to take money, then vanishing, to forever leave these men wondering if it was to circle back for a lawsuit in ten years or just because she was a secretive person, was worth more than cash could ever provide.

She was by far, the best, and worst, at this type of pleasurable role play.

Lying low for a few months when starting a new job, then going back out to the bar scene - those first few nights were always the most intriguing for her. She learned that if she snuck out for a smoke, stood near the alleyway by the entrance of the bar, when she posted online a check in for a "first night back on the town" - she wouldn't even have her cigarette finished before one, sometimes two, very determined looking "minions" as she affectionately called them, would storm the front door.

The haircut and tension in their shoulders always gave them away.

That and that "oh no the boss gonna get mad at me if i don't find her" look when they'd be scanning the crowd as she'd watch through a side window. Amused that even after all these years, there was still so much effort to keep tabs on her.

The truth was, she never slept with anyone she didn't like. Well, I mean, aside from the sexual assaults. However, she was very open about which ones those were. Never back tracked or changed on those. The man who sent the minions, was not in that category. She thought of him as a friend she was playing a strange adult version of hide and seek with.

And she'd never hurt her friends. Whether some of these guy's realized it or not, she thought they were just old friends, still playing the same little role play game, even a decade plus later.

She could not imagine a world in which these guys spent so much time and effort to keep track of her, could actually wish anything negative on her.

Part of her knew it was that they feared she'd get a higher offer from one of their enemies, to make up lies and pretend like everything over the years was... scary and negative, that the initial interaction was nonconsensual.

At some point, she realized they just didn't know she was autistic. That moral rigidity, that strong sense of justice, and that complete lack of concern for social hierarchy - plus the deep devotion to a lifetime of 'walking like jesus' in the world - it was insulting to her that they thought she was corruptible in that way.

She just wanted to stay out of it entirely. She would never take money for or against someone if it meant she had to lie. And taking money for anything outside of a w-2 job seemed absolutely immoral and out of her realm of reason.

She never realized how rare her position on the issue was. Time past. Life slowed down. The "minions" she'd see at least once a month seemed to evaporate entirely, she thought they'd finally trusted her enough to just, let her forget.

What she never saw coming, was the decision these men's enemies made one day, when they must have discovered the fond way in which they kept tabs on her movements.

Deviously plotting against these men from her past, their enemies decided - if this whore wouldn't play ball to slander and defame, that a dead whore would work just as well.

Plots were hatched, a dead woman can't speak for herself, they could prop up their own twisted dark version of events - pay the family, who she was estranged from for two decades now, to lie about her problems.

So when the attacks on her life started, she was clueless as to where it was coming from.

The first time whatever drug they tried to use to induce a heart attack or stroke, it felt like someone had jammed multiple epi-pens into her leg - her heart was beating near out of her chest, sweating...

People without insurance, who have been abused by the medical system, had their medical charts trashed by fraudulent doctors billing for conditions she never had, for treatments she never received, she knew she couldn't even go to the doctors anymore because they never believe anything she says anyways.

Her entire chart was fraud.

Fraud she had nothing to do with. but boy did it make her sound like a liar to get treatment and rather than once again being threatened with a psych hold for 'obviously being mentally disturbed to not remember all her conditions' (even though they dont exist, who are the doctors going to believe, the last clinic or a woman whose been on/off homeless for the last five years?)

So when the poison hit her, panicked as she was, she did the only thing she thought might stop the waves of adrenaline surging

She sang. Badly, off key - she was not born with a voice for the stage, that never stopped her when she was in her own home though.

And danced. and drank water. All around her kitchen and living room until the feeling passed. There was no help coming. No one to reach out to.

Then a few days later, it happened again.

Now she saw the pattern, her groceries were delivered the day these medical events started happening. So now she only bought items that had safety seals, clear ways to indicate tampering.

That's how she noticed it. The film on the tops of her sodas, it wasn't visible unless you wiped it with a cloth, then you could see that something was sprayed onto the cans.

She couldn't reach out to anyone, she was a nobody, who would ever believe that a coordinated effort was being made to end her to use as leverage against someone else's career? More importantly - how would she know that the cops were not also in on the plot?

Her car was vandalized, her packages stolen, the local shop she used to go to began to hide items she would shop for in the back and claim they were out of stock until she stopped going to them. It made non sense. The hostility at every turn.

Then, just as quickly as it all started, it stopped.

The abruptness of the ending was profoundly confusing.

Until she turned the television on one day. And she recognized someone.

He'd succeeded. He did what he said he was going to.

She'd held on long enough to prevent her untimely death from being twisted against someone she never would have spoken against if she was alive.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she really thought that would be the end of all the sneaky underhanded covert attempts on her life.

She never planned to speak to him again, she never thought she'd see him again.

There he was though, making things happen he promised he would.

She felt a very specific kind of rage towards those enemies of his who came after her, how dare they try to override her voice to paint a narrative that never was real. Trying to stop him from helping the world so they could profit off mass despair.

Who knows what kind of long term damage to her heart those poisons have done, she smiled though, because if he won...

She knew those who came for her, were never going to be people she had to worry about again. She knew him at least that well.

He was going to make the world better. A win for him was a win for all the not Epstein class people of the whole planet.

And there was no sinister plot that was going to take him off that path.

The bimbo brigade fire team versus the lone whore core drop out.

They wanted to dance in a spotlight ONLY for them - she waved them on, kept to the shadows far from the light and made sure the world didn’t end before their song finished playing.

And i thought about it for the first time in years the other day. I was reading something about "the first time getting stood up and the disappointment about it" and i snorted and was like oh yeah, my own mother prepared me for how to deal with that.

This woman was not kind to me. She had a brutal c-section and the doctor was a hack. Vertical scar with staples looked like an ugly railroad track and she'd point to it and say i did that to her and ruined her life.

She never got therapy and singled me out for abuse that my other 3 siblings never dealt with because of it. she lies about all this yet i digress.

So this would have to be around the 5th grade, before i started going to the movies in middle school with my friends. Something happened and for once my little sister was at school, other siblings out of the house and so she asked, if I wanted to go see a movie with just her and me?

Now this was a shockkkkk. She never wanted anything to do with me unless she absolutely had to and then it was usually rather tense. So, of course, I'm still a young hopeful kid, and i was amped. i was thrilled it could not have been more exciting for me.

until it wasn't.

we get to the ticket counter and she says one for the movie we were going to see and one for a totally different movie. she never mentioned that. she never said she was going to see a different movie. i got upset.

That upset with the red face of shock and your eyes start watering up, the feelings and emotions are all over the place. I remember being shaky and teary eyed in the lobby area while she explained she would walk me to a seat and we would meet here afterwards. She was so short with me and kinda mean about it.

I have no idea what movie it was i just know that i cried during most of it cause i couldn't believe i let her trick me like that. why would i have ever thought she would do something WITH me willingly?

Now... as an adult.

I'm nearly positive she was cheating.

Taking me to the movies was just a cover for her to sneak off to meet whoever tf she was running around having an affair with. She was so... shifty about the entire thing. so sneaky. like more than reasonable.

It's not ever gonna be worth confronting her on. she's a lie till you die type anyways.

But yeah, later on in life, after i got stood up for a dinner date, my friend asked if i was okay. I snorted and laughed for a minute and was like, nah girl, i got this, my mom ditching me when i was a kid totally prepared me to manage my disappointment.

oooh my friend blinked so hard for a minute at what i said then we laughed for a minute cause we both had atrociously selfish parents.

if there is one thing my family has taught me I can say for sure, is to be able to manage my feelings when people let me down by misleading, lying, or changing things at the very last minute.

it is not a skill i will be passing on.

nor is it one i wish i'd learned the way i did at all.

My family refuses to acknowledge or accept that I was diagnosed with PTSD 10 years ago.

"you weren't in the military, that's only for military people" is their mindset.

So when I was forced to live with them, it spiraled. I'm actually not that hard to get along with when there is mutual respect. The issue is they never respected me.

Living with them was gaslight city. All done crafty and calculated to give them their "air of innocence" while they tortured me psychologically every. single. day.

The blank eyed "what im not doing anything" was so maddening - like yes you know exactly what you are doing your punishing me for saying i have PTSD which you don't think i've "earned".

They would sneer everytime i brought it up like that was only for military people. it was constant that they would try to dismiss or minimize these things.

They were in a rural area and I could not find work or a way out of there for years. It was hell. Pure fkn hell.

While living there years ago at one point I hysterically told them to stop taking every little thing I ask them NOT to do and turning around to instantly do it as many times as they can.

That what they were doing made me want to kill myself because they were just not listening to me and i felt so trapped in despair from the whole of the situation. Explained that I started drinking in high school because they made me feel so trapped and suicidal that mental escape using booze was THE ONLY way i could survive being forced to endure their abuse.

More blank stares. "sounds like a you problem we won't change"

Honestly, at that point, something in me snapped. I actually went out and got a semi-colon tattoo on my forearm with some watercolor splash.

Nah something didn't sit right with me. It was too methodical. Too systematic.

Everything I told them wasn't considered as if they were loving parents, it was used as a new way to exploit an enemies weaknesses. I truly think these people have spent the past 9 years trying to passively murder me by cruel and intentional psychological warfare.

To me, no loving "family" would hear you say "please for the love of god, what you are doing is torture, please fkn stop" and then laugh in your face and do it over and over anyways.

That's what enemies do to people they hate and want dead.

Or fraudsters do when they have an illegal insurance policy they want cashed in. It would not surprise me at all.

Anyhoo, I am hopefully going 100% no contact for eternity in less than 30 days and i couldn't be more relieved and excited for no longer having looming dread of them harassing me anymore.

In my opinion, if "family" goes out of their way to aggravate your PTSD, or any mental condition at all, they are not family.

They are abusers to be escaped from and never spoken to or thought of again. I do not consider those people family, they are 2 months away from being total strangers with no legal access.

Once I have a few things squared away, since I'm not married, I have to set up a power of attorney to make sure they won't be my legal next of kin since i won't be getting married anytime soon.

So - how do all of you feel about "family" that intentionally triggers your condition?

I read news publications from countries all over the middle east. Direct sources of local journalism - 13 right now. *(If we don't go and try to diffuse the issue where the burning fuse is, we shouldn't be surprised when things blow up.)*

A few weeks ago, Iran hit a few ships in the Hormuz straight. I'm reading my various sights and I noticed an alarming Discrepancy with one.

One news source said a ship was flagged to Saudi. Another news source said the ship was flagged to Marshall Islands.

You know, the Marshall Islands which are infamous for Nuclear Weapons Testing.

My immediate thought was - "Are the Proxies fear of Saudi aggression valid and related to a clandestine nuclear program they have?"

I'm not even joking when I say this, just a few short days later I see on the Saudi news agency I follow, a picture of two US Generals having a little sit down with representatives from the Saudi Kingdom.

And now, all of a sudden, there's this unrestricted deal on the table?

This ABSOULTELY makes me feel wonder if Saudi already HAS a nuclear program that EVERYONE else in the region knew about, except America, and what we are seeing is a CYA move about missing that entirely.

Also, support local journalists. It's deadly to speak the truth out there.

It does. Injustice erodes away at communities. It erodes quality of live for entire regions.

It drags every person down. It will keep every good thing in life suppressed and unavailable for anyone to access.

it doesn't just impact one person.

it robs communities of every good thing that person could have done if they were not crushed under the weight of corruption.

Why are things getting worse and worse and worse for everyone?

There are no good people left to stand up for injustice. None.

Cops here ignore child trafficking. The fed looks the other way when it comes to medical fraud that encourages traffciking of children.

Abuse women, children, your role in authority? No one cares. What does that lead to?

The schools are underfunded, teachers lack any qualifications they legally should have to handle special needs kids, they have no resources they are legally required to have.

The mental health clinic? Well they will induce mental health episodes in clients so they have to call the emergency number and they can cash those extra after hours checks.

Whose going to correct them or stop them? Women are barely surviving trying to process abuse, kids are not getting any support for their trauma induced behavioral issues, and corrupt officals are indulging in the towns suffering.

Injustices pile up. The rot they bring festers. it spreads. it infects.

It's a disgusting place to be. In this town.

This town that condones, supports, and encourages people to abuse women and children. Anyone who reports child abuse, abuse against the vulnerable, or fraud is labeled "mentally unwell". While getting zero help for anything, don't even have a person at the house and they will file paperwork saying they were there for fraud schemes the police are helping to protect.

It's no wonder this town also has a growing list of unsolved homicides. Those they can't hide reports of.

The rest of the crime, like i said, if you never take a report, you never have to worry about closing a case.

The message is clear: if you try to get the people hurting you to be held accountable, YOU are the only one to get any consequences.

The agencies I have called outside of this town have also done nothing.

It floors me. how many HUNDREDS of government officials over the past few years actively CHOOSE to toss their oaths out the window and decide that women and children victims are irrelevant and do not deserve any help.

I honestly think the UN should set up locations in all major cities for legal support to sue the government over fraud, refusal to investigate crimes, abuse/discrimination of vulnerable populations - there is presently exactly NOTHING i can do as every institution has thus far utterly failed me.

What is the memory of a feeling? How is it possible that I remember the feelings, not the person, not even the words of the conversation?

What do you do when a memory from 14 years ago resurfaces and you have no idea how to place it in your present life?

I know someone was there with me running on the track on one of those Alabama nights. I know it. I remember the mixed bag of feelings, I just...

Don't remember who.

I do wonder. Do they remember me?

When is "too late" really "too late"?