At the age of 28 I quit smoking. I had been smoking since I was 14 years old. My family did not like that I quit smoking. They responded by telling the police that I was dealing drugs. Special Branch started following me around. I reported to friends and family that I believed people were following me around. My friends and family decided it was evidence that I was delusional and schizophrenic. They told the family GP I was hearing voices. The doctor wrote to me asking me to see him which I thought was unusual behaviour. On the third letter I went to see him to find out what he wanted. The doctor told me that hearing voices is a symptom of schizophrenia, and having problems with authority is a symptom of schizophrenia. I denied hearing voices; the doctor told me denying hearing voices is a symptom of schizophrenia. He decided that was three probable symptoms of textbook schizophrenia. He did not tell me which textbook. The family, friends and GP networked together with the police and the mental health workers who I was referred to, all of them telling me I was paranoid that I believed a conspiracy was out to get me, that paranoia being a symptom of schizophrenia, all of them agreeing with each other that my opinion on the matter was irrelevant.
The family and friends, and the state workers, did this to me as a cover-up because they do not want the humiliation of my going public with what I know. Nobody believes or trusts somebody who everybody thinks is schizophrenic. I have never heard voices. I do deny that a third-party could know more about what’s going on inside my own mind than I do, unless as I explained to several people along the way, that person is telepathic; in which case that person is hearing voices.
People say: "never let the truth get in the way of a good story." As far as they were concerned, accusing me of being schizophrenic and living in an echo chamber to reaffirm that in their collective delusion, a joke at my expense, served the purpose of helping to ensure nobody would trust anything I have to say.
What I have to say is this.
My brother is a drug dealer. He is one of the people who came up with the idea of having me done for schizophrenia. When I gave up smoking, this panicked a number of people including the network who myself, my brother and my mother had previously been buying cannabis from. That network collaborated to silence me by telling the police I was the supplier, which is how I ended up being followed around by Special Branch, the plainclothes police and those who work for them, which includes prison inmates given day release to work for the police to work off their convictions ‘for good behaviour.’ No official evidence exists to show this is how the police and prison service work. It’s off the books. I know this because I began, in self defence, to follow the people who were following me, to find out who was following me. A team using mobile phones to film me and ear-pieces to communicate with each other during stake-outs. Sometimes I was wrongfully arrested on a pretext such as 'suspicion of an offence we cannot allege at this stage of investigations due to operational procedure" or simply "behaving strangely" when I was merely walking up the road minding my own business; their word against mine as to what the 'strange behaviour' might be. They don't have to explain it, they work on key-phrases. This is how the Police manipulate the law to cause people problems and throw around enough suspicion that third parties accept their authority on the matter. It was all so they could hold me in a cell and use my keys to enter my flat, prowl about, damage my possessions and steal my possessions, including minidiscs containing the only master copy of an album I had spent two years crafting, and my hand-written notepads. Later, after I eventually got the internet, I discovered about TI (Targeted Individuals) and Zersetsung.
I did eventually, some time later, get photographs of the gang-stalking team when by coincidence they met in a public space in the city, outside a glass-fronted post office building in town. I recognised several of them from being attentive to which individuals had been following me on a number of occasions. I had annoyed them by making their gang-stalking operation difficult and expensive. I changed my MO regularly. I followed them back. Members of their crew had to be pulled off the case because I could identify them or had approached them to ask why they were following me. or to photograph them so I could make their faces public in case I disappeared. I was honestly concerned I might disappear because I was being gang-stalked and nobody believed me.
Eventually, one of the crew approached me and told me he had been following me for three months. But I already knew that. I had attempted to report to the police that I had been gang-stalked and at the time I did not know who by. The desk officer laughed, asked me if I was sure it wasn’t drug squad, and shut the shutters on it. No report was taken, the same way they never ever give you a receipt for stop-and-search. I have been stop-and-searched more than twenty times. The police targeted me for harassment. My photo was very much on their wall as ‘a local suspect’.
I had been hanging out with some homeless people; I had recently qualified NVQ2 counselling and was working voluntarily as an outreach worker to help people on the streets and to get some life experience. What stimulated me to get the qualification was the sheer number of occasions when people came to me for counselling support; because of my nature and personality, because of my sage wisdom at helping people mentally and emotionally stabilise when dealing with a wide range of weird stuff life had thrown at them.
When I communicated about all of this to people, most people told me that I was delusional. It is how I found out who I can trust. I’ve never lied about any of this at all. Why would I?
The only crime I had committed was smoking cannabis. I never sold it or any other drugs. I was an end-of-the-line consumer, an addict who went from a chain-smoking habit to teetotal.
At that time, a strong lobby was trying to push to get cannabis legalised. No cannabis smoker wanted me to go public to discuss how addictive it is, how it involves you in people who will betray you, nor did the police want the public to know about the illegal methods they use, or the grey area between criminal and police when it comes to such operations.
I had zero support. The system workers collaborated that obviously I was schizophrenic because that disempowered my voice. Nobody would believe anything I had to say on the assumption I was delusional.
I simply wanted my physical and mental health to improve. So I quit smoking. I changed my lifestyle so that I could upgrade my lifestyle. I overcame an addiction. The consequences of that caused me a significant amount of trauma and distress for a long time.
I did the only thing I could do in those circumstances. I took advice of the social worker assigned to help me, a lovely lady who genuinely did help me because she was intuitive, compassionate, not judgemental. I took the money the benefits agency gave me for mental health which is a lot more than it had previously given me for job-seeking allowance. There had been no work available. Previously I had worked for the Ministry of Defence. I had spent my JSA on cannabis and stolen out-of-date food from skips at the back of the supermarket near my house. After I quit smoking I could afford to buy CDs which before the internet, for a musician using samples, is a professional necessity. After I was awarded Mental Health Benefits and combined with the revelation the JobCentre had been underpaying me what the law says they should have been paying me, I was able to afford to buy a van, intended for gigging and living in while gigging around the country.
Of course my family and fake friends hated me for all of that. The involvement of mental health did get the police off my back, because they realised what had pushed me over the edge into a PTSD-based depression which they mistook for schizophrenia, was their expensive gang-stalking operation.
I stopped trusting the police and mental health departments. Because they all lie. They lie on paperwork to destroy people’s lives and their reputations. The consequences of that last a lifetime.
I took time out to heal from all of that, to re-orientate myself, knowing what I know and living in a community which denies reality works the way I know from experience it does work. I did something they did not expect me to do. I got as famous as I possibly could so that when the time came for my story to be told, a lot of people would assess it for themselves to the best of their ability.
When I looked at my blog statistics from Google Analytics and saw that I am at this time achieving 1000 views per day, I recognised that this is the peak time for me to accept whatever level of ‘famous’ that indicates. It is time for me to go public with my story.
Some years later I was getting nowhere with asking to see my case files, or for anybody who does have access to those case files, to come forward with any actual evidence to prove conclusively that I have schizophrenia. The allegation is mere opinion and conjecture. I spoke with a solicitor. The solicitor said I had a strong case to sue various departments in court for the damages they had done to me and to my life. I relayed that information back to the various departments. Two weeks later I was called to an emergency meeting where a senior mental health advisor for the county told me to my face he “does not believe I have schizophrenia but it is possible I have high functioning Autism.” No mention was made of cPTSD as a result of having to deal with all of the above, nor of anything I had to deal with before it. The waiting list for an autism assessment in Britain is five years. I had to sit pretty until I could be assessed. It was the first actual assessment I got. I have never been sectioned, never been into a mental institution, although people have tried hard to put me there by lying to the authorities about me. I absolutely always refused to take any pills they tried to prescribe me. I never did any ‘schizophrenic’ behaviour. The autism diagnostic assessment states ‘autistic’. I am officially diagnosed with autism. To get diagnosed as ADHD or PTSD is a separate assessment made by a different person in a different department, also with a 5 year waiting list, and it is one at a time. Because of the Autism diagnosis it is negative that I will be put onto another waiting list to be assessed for any comorbid condition.
Meanwhile, I have to live daily with specific symptoms, which I personally believe are closer to cPTSD than to autism, but there is recognised to be an overlap in studies. I have had zero support for being autistic from anybody. The people who previously told everybody that I am schizophrenic (which was a lie) have absolutely refused to engage in any debate about the only actual diagnosis I have been given. I was never assessed for schizophrenia. It was entirely done on an assumption, a chain of ‘authority’ avalanching from drug users and drug dealers, to police, to GP, to mental health department cherry-picked individuals who “work with the police” to reinforce their legality-based belief system, the court system, the DWP and anyone else who maliciously has a grievance which they can take out on ‘the schizophrenic’ guy who they do not want to know or listen to, because they have less humanitarianism and more fake plastic reputation to uphold. People who dump shit on me and cause problems for me simply because they can get away with it.
This is not my Life Story. This is some of the shit which has happened to me because of living in a Society where Truth, Morality and Christian values do not exist. There is a lot more to it all than what I have written about here; this is a simple basic. This is why I am now in receipt of state benefits. What makes me unfit for work is diagnosis of autism, practicality of cPTSD which has physical symptoms of fibromyalgia, because “the body keeps the score” and my nervous system is shot, and because my work incentive to involve myself in people who function the way fake friends, family, state workers, authorities, etc function, is absolute zero because of what they have put me through.
So what I did; I wrote. I wrote lots. I wrote so much, that eventually I started getting 1000 hits a day on my blog and decided to explain some of my backstory. Where I go from here? Possibly try publishing something for money because I spend 2 weeks in every 4 weeks with not enough money to survive beyond eating porridge for two weeks in every 4. Not an attractive prospect for any potential romantic partner to hook up with. Welcome to Western Civilisation. This sort of shit is a factor in why white people are dying out.
In all of the time I was chain-smoking cannabis, I never had any problems from the police, from the authorities, from friends and family. I was popular. All of the problems began after I made a conscious decision to clean my life up and to dedicate myself to the betterment of the community through becoming a professional counsellor and actually having the money to gig with. What a fucking mistake that was.
I am posting this to make good on a promise I made to a younger version of myself. It's a good enough reason.
