Sylvanna Devlin

Between the abuse, the audio interference, the thefts, the character assassination, alienation of my friends, and gaslighting; a life of battling depression can become too much to cope with.

I had already struggled with it my whole life, only finding happiness in Mania which is too dangerous to allow.

Then July, 28 2022 occurred and without going into details it was the first trip of many to the hospital for a painful confusing era that didn’t seem to end.

July, 15 2025 I had fled my apartment to land in a hotel to figure out what to do next. To relieve the pressure to move and run.

It was quiet at first.

Delightful.

But I was soon harassed again and finally it was suggested “no one can survive all that”. And I agreed.

The suicide attempt was very serious.

I survived through cutting edge surgical procedure and the grace of God.

I didn’t have want to seem ungrateful.

But I did wasn’t particularly happy to still be alive.

I slowly grew comfortable that I breathed. But while the depression abated – with medicine – unhappiness lingered.

The spiritual world surrounded me so heavily that any attempt to gaslight or harass me was thwarted by the notice of the few lingering gaslighters.

I also slept through most of the recovery.

I began to be able to stay awake in November. Until then I would occasionally chat with individuals second guessing their instructions.

Most, upon seeing objects move around, questioned their actions and had soulful inquiries to make.

My answers made them decide there was no honor in hurting me and they were out.

Then I improved enough to start to pull my life together.

But the troll-bot was returned. And was set to lethal. By the time April rolled around the abuse from the women around me, the vicious lies and rumors, and the 24/7 return of the gaslighting troll-bot and I again sank back down into depression.

I had only just begun to get better and ended up in a cycle of being pushed into misery and backing off but starting full force the minute I tried to get better.

It was so clockwork that as much as they said they wanted me out, the abuse ensured I was too unwell to even leave my room. I couldn’t arrange a move.

Then their lies tanked my credit score and it looked likely I was trapped.

Being abused by them.

They either wanted me in one place to force me into suicide, or I don’t know. Because when I contemplated if there was still a way to move one of the women promised if I succeeded she would follow. And it wasn’t a pleasant promise.

It was a threat.

She clearly wanted a prisoner to kill. She had successfully trapped me and was keeping me pinned by her obsessive abuse.

The most frightening of all stalkers.

One with no good enough motive. And access to hacking, torture, and my things.

I have to go to the dentist today and half expect to return to a looted home. The dentist is a necessity however. So I just have to risk that she throws my belongings away vs allows it to be possible for them to be returned.

I haven’t been as depressed as this in a long time. The medicine restoring functionality but enough to feel isolated, helpless, and like death would be better.

I don’t necessarily want to kill myself. If there was a way to stop her I would start to recover. And the gaslighting troll-bot has been corralled to a more distant location.

The pressure wave torture is still at times an issue, causing nightmares or lack of restful sleep with interference with dreams.

Both guided imagery and loose mental images are dangerous and I had only just started to recover from nightmares.

I’m still worried about leaving my room to take the garbage out. Let alone the dentist. And my cat has to come with.

My depression seems like something I will never recover from. And at times is too much to bear.

One kind thing from a stranger has kept me alive more times than I can count. Through all this I survived because someone defended me, told me the truth, promised not everyone fell for the lies. A package was delivered with a smile. My way was made a little easier.

Just one.

One kind thing from a stranger.

Kept me alive.

I had long ago been instructed to find one thing I enjoyed and build on it. But when motivation is exhausted by depression nothing I would usually enjoy is pleasurable.

But kindness.

Now that keeps me going.

I so value the love and care of others, the consideration from the usually grumpy, the gentle teasing from those who care but won’t admit it.

As much as I say I “speak any love language.” It means I receive any form as well. Just knocking on my door to tell me a package is in the mailroom is so friendly that I am instantly cheered.

Not everyone is verbally communicative, or has funds for gifts, or energy for acts, but even a sweet sentence or a pleasant teasing one makes me smile.

And that smile is healing.

Be good to one another. You might not know how truly valuable it is for that individual just to hear something nice