Intervention program…. FAIL,

A short, possible probably prose.

Here is this wonderful city that I live in, Seattle; there is this wonderfully imagined program that may or may not exist, in which you may or may not be delusional, and may or may not be hit in the head at the start of the program. Writers note this may sound insanely crazy and I may be thrown in a nut house if anyone from local law enforcement or in the medical profession reads this; but I do question my sanity daily, and I do ask all of my providers regularly, if I am crazy and have been assured that no I am not…. So to continue; I would call it gaslighting for those of you that don’t know that is where a group of people harass and stalk you doing things that cause you to question your sanity, the term was coined from a British play in the 1930’s with a probably disastrous American film rendition of what was more than likely a not so great play to begin with.

So from what I have managed to piece together based off of my faulty memory and some of the people I have been, ummmm lucky (not quite the word I would go for but let just go with it) too meet; and their helpful (again not the word I would like to use but for lack of a better one) hints or indirect suggestions at the events around my life; I have been placed in a fucked up, horrible, disastrous poorly designed intervention program that uses gang stalking, destruction of private property, burglary, theft, and psychological mind games to ruin your life.

Delusional and paranoid, that’s what they try to make you look like; they place cameras in your vehicle and home. You start to hear voices, but only in certain locations, not everywhere like a schizophrenic or someone in psychosis. The doctors office, just on the other side of the wall, or down the hall. They tell your medical professionals that if you close your eyes you are lying so that your medical care goes to shit. In your truck laughing at you, discussing your life and demeaning you, flip them off they get offended. In your home, at all hours of the night keeping you awake. Commenting on how you can’t take care of yourself, how you need to be in rehab, or that you will be arrested. They get everyone around you to start mocking you, repeating seldom used words like nematode, prolapse, necrophilia, to name a few.

At this point I have no friends, I talk to no one; try to hang out with someone and they start in; mosquito tones one friend tells me. For almost three years terrorized by them starting with one simple sentence from my “father,” “quiet Wanda he doesn’t know we are here,” as I was grabbing something out of my room prior to leaving with my landlord one night, from under the basement window. Insane it sounds, I know and if you ask anyone about it they play it off like no its nothing. Then there are the weird things that happen; one day everyone that walks down the street looks away from you, the next they all stare. You start seeing the same faces in different locations. Point it out the faces change. Because they want you to believe that you are in psychosis. If you are using drugs, don’t leave them anywhere, not even in a lockbox safely tucked away; they will change your combo. Don’t even trust your drug dealer, they start to give you shit that’s mixed with god only knows.

Leave the state, they follow you. Don’t trust anyone, don’t tell anyone where you are staying, where your storage unit is. Hide your vehicle. Mines been broken into at least once, but I am almost positive twice. My storage unit twice, after I moved its location and didn’t tell anyone where it had been moved, one person knew; and then they busted into it on my birthday of all days. Keep your keys and wallet on you at all times. If you leave a drink don’t touch it. Only eat out of a sealed package, these things now rule my life, and have caused me to hate the city that I used to love. The terrorism has caused me severe PTSD and anxiety. Hell last week I told my neurologist I was hearing things and she just smiled, didn’t even report it in her notes for the visit. The voices from my timeline of 36 years, yep just down the hall laughing it up, like the assholes they are. Not a damn one of them having the balls to actually come up to me and say anything face to face.

Say I am crazy, go right on ahead, doesn’t matter, they have destroyed my self-worth and identity. Delusional? Already had one dick at mental health put that on my chart thanks to telling him someone showed up to tell me that my accident wasn’t an accident and that they were trying to kill me. Paranoid? Well maybe but after having a different person tell me that my accident wasn’t an accident get arrested for murder and cannibalism I’ll stay paranoid if it saves my life. As for rehab, well I don’t need that. All I need is for people to stop fucking with me.

For now a man and his dog are locked in an apartment; truck disabled thanks to those involved in this twisted mind fuck of a game designed to destroy your psyche, and make your life hell. The dog starting to eat himself thanks to dads increased anxiety and stress level that should be decreasing thanks to housing. The man slowly losing his mind, and starting to pack up his home that has only started to feel like a home. Where will they head, that’s a secret I will never tell. Enjoy staying safe, as there is no safe space, anywhere.



Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Joel Jared Ehmann

Joel Jared Ehmann

A Man, A Dog & Their Road to Health | Sleepless inSouth Beacon Hill | Fierce Ramblings of an HIV+ gay male longing the day when the struggle ends & life begin.