Reactive Abuse
It doesn’t matter how long a fuse you develop, you could coil it at your feet in case dancing on eggshells doesn’t work. (And it won’t) Have your boundaries shat on enough? Your wounds dug into and ripped open, your individuality and strength disrespected, your soul tormented by a thousand barbs? Eventually you will snap and become angry. It’s human nature. No matter how you seek to embody compassion, the abuser wants their fight, wants their scoreboards, and wants you to shoulder the blame.
Power and Control
“If I can control your temper and your apology then I control you, right?”
We don’t have full numbers when it comes to this kind of abuse. As from secret whispers the victim is usually a man. From what I can see veterans, the wounded but well mannered, the martial artists too honorable to “fight back”
Anyone who has a self motto even if it’s not conscious.
Own your shit.
Except it’s not your shit. Barbs, baiting, and boundary crossing go unnoticed as you dole out a fuse so long you coil it at your feet.
Because it will all be burned up. They want their fight. They want their drama. They want to feign innocence. They won’t leave you alone to cool off. The explosion matters no matter how much you emotionally dodge and weave.
It’s sometimes the theatrical elements to the fights they enflame. The joy of power in hassling someone in the reaction they want. But contrition is key. Victims usually blame themselves and apologize- confused that no matter how much therapy they attend, what meds they’re on, they believe they just can’t control their temper. (No, because the abuser does)
Then after Drama and tears they lap up the attention from profuse apologies.
“Oh it’s okay I love you anyway” (yeah you love fighting me) “I think you just need more mental health care.” Because god are they addicted to taking out their temper, their irritations but somehow remain innocent. And oh so generous.
Boundaries
We really do know what those are. We might be raised with the terms respect and being circumspect. We may have parents who suck at them. But shit all over a persons emotional private space and we all figure it out.
Frequent statements
“Come back to reality”
“You’re not that special”
“You’re not that original”
“You’re not that pretty/talented/ intelligent”
“You’re not that unique”
“What talent?”
“That was stupid of you”
“This is classic textbook that I’ve never touched.”
“I asked you a question.”
“Step in line”
“Watch yourself”
“(Fill in the blank) is so stupid!” Giggle “(highly inaccurate conjecture)”
“You just don’t ‘get it’”. – (do I want to?)
“I heard about….” And am now going to take it out of context
Personal
“I heard you were a good writer but I can’t read your private notes for all the grammatical errors”
My favorite when quoting
“You know you didn’t come up with these, right?“ – (yep thanks for making my day.)
Tactical Musings
I can’t decide if playing stupid about me privately having fun with quotes and cliches is supposed to rain on my parade or is a reflexive defense mechanism against the truth.
Using that shitty AI based on good work
Following what I type, announcing their expectation (sometimes with the help of predictive text) then are surprised to be right?
“I’m stupid, please explain to the negative.”
“No really I’ll get it this time”
“After everything I denied knowing about, you’re supposed to be a vegetable.”
False comparisons and other logical fallacies
“I heard this worked once or twice so I’m going to pulverize its relevance, okay?”
“If I know you were raped (a long time ago) and tortured (significantly more recently) but if I say you weren’t you’ll get mad, right?”
“I see your period panties but I can attempt to insult trans women and you at the same time.” )Some fires in the soul are not mine) “You’re not really a woman” – (that really annoys me but is usually only used when I’m bleeding out womb lining.)
If I make you, yet again, explain the basic and obvious you’ll give up on the complex, right?
Other Tactics
Used by “bitches and cunts” all over.
“I know I don’t do what you’ve done professionally or even a very long time (or at all), but here’s some snide, irrelevant or ignorant advice”
“Hey I’ll sound clever if I say this right? That way I can insult your ability to avoid irritation.”
Invading fucking privacy.
Not giving space and expecting a chase
“This has always hurt you, so I should do it some more, right?”
Gaslighting “I think you need more mental health care.”
Junior high level insults such as “you’re too fat to be Nepenthe”
“I know I’ve never met you but these other women are being assholes to you so I am, okay?”
“Do you look pretty enough on the outside to feel good about the inside yet?”
Cognitive Abuse
This all cumulates in an inability to really seek help. Victim blaming – even from the victim. And the suffocating feeling of being unable to process the situation.
And for me? Driven to highly controlled rage every night? Until it was dangerous to me? Well after really. The PTSD was horrific.
Then Women decided I was the enemy and ganged up in a bullying mob who wants to silence me so their weak power tactic no longer have strong results.
I wrote a book on the subject because the concise version is already at the head of this article
Reality Abuse
The other downer department
Reality abuse creates Reality
Gaslighting changes it
Together they are lethal and divide the populace.
There are established forms of reality abuse we’ve all heard of. Fake news, radio shows, false articles. Blog posts full of lies.
But hacking is becoming easier and more popular to do. Now we have deleted records, false records, fake reports, misleading sound bite baiting, 3D images invented, altered or pictures used to create people. Media “inserts” in otherwise true stories. Syllable soup – you all hear sound but interpret different words. Voice sampling and conversation created, perception interference along the lines of cognitive abuse. And fake “thinking out loud.”
That’s what’s “easy”
But it’s more dangerous if the goal is a bullseye: divide and conquer. They pick someone innocent to target and force everyone around to fight about whether they’re the village sweetheart or the wicked witch of the west!
For me I’ve had “Sound separated environments”that mean we both hear something but it’s not the same thing.
I have had integrated media make false reports. And virtual neighborhoods created. Sound used as torture that filled my ears and been forced in controlled spaces with “environmental gaslighting” we all heard it. But it’s not real.
I’ve felt like the sound has crowded me but no one else admitted to hearing anything. So lies were created and thoughts invaded. If we can sort of hear it constantly we begin to confuse it with our train of thought.
Some of the sound events drove my old neighborhood apart. Now they’re working on this one.
Who? Oh I give up. I thought it was a stalker but it’s too financially backed, too technologically sophisticated, and intense invasive hacking. I’ll stay in my lane, thank you. And let the experts determine who. Or where from.
I really thought this was just a way to drive me to suicide. But others are being dragged in again. This is bigger than an angry I. I’m a victim who is already mentally ill and was likely convenient. I’m the kindest most gentle person until threatened or under attack. Then I’m a big fuck off dragon.
I have a meltdown if you call me abusive. I’ve been abused too much in my life. And my mile long fuse had to grow while others suggested anger management which is extremely unfair.
The misinformation will kill most people. I’ve heard but not confirmed Sylvanna Toledo killed herself and was quite the sweetheart. It’s possible anyone named or nicknamed Sylvanna was targeted. The other one in Petaluma also killed herself.
Am I the sweetest thing? Well others used to think so. But lies, manipulation, misinformation, fake social media accounts and hacking has seen some alienated.
That and insisting it’s not psychosis. Till I believed it was.
It’s actually quite painful to go from being generally well liked to having a false reputation developed and friendships ruined. Some are so disappointed, and I’m supposed to “know why.” Or “What you did.”
No. I don’t know what you think I said or did actually so this has been worse. Not that you’d believe my shock.
I’m still a kind person who doesn’t put on peep shows but does sometimes get naked and mutter in my own space where I’m supposed to have privacy.
People who accuse me of abuse? Knocking or banging on walls or doors? I may need to be more patient with. But people swear about anger management when they think I “sound” like I need it. But that sound wasn’t from me.
What can I do? Stay kind and genuine and maybe swear about my gaslighted others less. Now I have it confirmed the sound is fucking real.
What can we do? Listen to the “crazies” because some of what they are experiencing is real. Just pay attention to changed reputations. And believe the ones who have a track record of general goodness.
Sound and Reality abuse can easily combine in sampling voices and creating dialogue, fake phone calls, open and close the kind of metaphorical doors we need in society to get by.
But that’s not the only way…
Forms of sound used as a weapon?
We’ve all heard of “the brown note”. If you haven’t it’s a legend in communication technology services Mythbusters finally busted.
The legend goes it was supposed to be used for crowd control because it makes you shit your pants But it’s bas thus omnidirectional and travels through solid objects. Apparently the French were the ones to try this – and it caused embarrassment because everyone was affected themselves too!
While an interesting way to introduce concepts about Bas, the brown note isn’t real.
But sound can be used to aggravate the area that “misbehaves” in those with fibromyalgia and cause similar nerve pain and exhaustion in others.
I certainly find sound abuse tiring. And dizzying – literally. Nauseated and sometimes knocked unconscious too.
There’s always frequencies and loops that drive the sane to madness, and make those lacking in sanity unusually angry. Along with better known uses for creating and maintaining suspense and fear.
A full frequency sweep was used to torture me when everyone was away for Fourth of July except me. I barely lived and had to go to the emergency room.
I wasn’t checked over or had my brain scanned. They gave me a sleeping pill instead of benedryl and I got kind of high and walked home in the middle of the night at about five miles per hour for nine and a quarter miles.
My body was so pissed off I sat outside on the hottest July 4th on record – in a coat
I couldn’t hear the real world. But I did hear the occasional voice. After that I struggled to open up, and would message a friend near daily for months – till he started suggesting “Therapy Sweetie” and it was another drop in the “is this even real?” Bucket.
Sound can be very dangerous. And my studio was once a recording studio and still had metal plating under plaster walls. The whole room would reverberate but everyone said either I was hearing things, or “there’s no sound ordinance”
A neighbor played a loop that combined with gaslighting sent me to a night at the hospital. I was concerned I’d kill myself if the sound was a permanent symptom.
But it was quiet on the way home. I only heard music from a few houses down. Either the source, or the other Victim. Whom I will not go into but love deeply. I thought we would always be the only people who understood what we had been through.
Now I think others may have experienced it since. But starting in September of that year, houses were wired together using old Lan lines. Telephone lines used for data – playing games mostly. It’s a pre Y2K thing!
We were driven mad by constant sound and gaslighting. My father wouldn’t listen it wasn’t me and maybe that’s why he started treating me badly and kicked me out. Before he had been paranoid and controlling – and frightening when a loud hum drove us all insane.
Now I have no idea what lies he heard or what he thought I said. If he was gaslighted too it would explain a lot. But no one would really tell me why I was kicked out. It was just “untenable”.
The first night in the hotel I landed in was so much quieter I slept through everything. But the sound abuse became reality abuse and I was terrified but always convinced I was being helped by someone.
He may have been playing all sides. I don’t know. He stopped being involved.
I fled to Oregon but became homeless- during the summer! I slept in my car in a rest stop. Quiet at first then the first “cowabunger” truck came in playing the sounds of the neighborhood. I diagnosed it as Bluetooth infected by a diagnostic tool. I was apparently either heard or not the only one paying attention.
My car became a sound studio. I was threatened with rape and sex trafficking. I overheard a woman being kidnapped and had to flee the night after reporting it.
The homeless shelter was quiet for a while. Then sound invaded the room there but my roommate never said anything about it.
It stopped sometime in October/November. And became an issue again thanksgiving onwards. I dealt with my first 40 man raid of gaslighting.
I haven’t even gone into “gaslight her to death” not really.
No one would admit they heard anything and I was gentle about probing.
It followed me to my SRO.
New forms of audio torture were invented- a needles in the brain feeling that left me near comatose. Other sound that would knock me out. The garbled three day gibberish used for brainwashing (third or fourth time tried on me), and lots of gaslighting. I have no idea what others heard.
It was supposed to stop at the end of March. Then it did for a while after it followed me to a hotel again and I tried to kill myself because no one listened that the sound was real.
I had tried going to the community hospital just a week before and they sent me home. They saved my life as well however, so not all bad but I don’t trust the nurses or psychiatrist there.
When I came home? No sound for a while but I was sleeping constantly and didn’t want to be alive. August passed, September Passed and I started to improve in October. By the end of November it had started up again but barely detectable so I was finally convinced it was either all real or none and there was no way everything I heard was real.
I got a complaint early November and cried. Because it wasn’t me. I didn’t connect I finally might have a fellow witness.
Now I’ve come forward to the police after writing a very long paper trail of home invasions, theft, abuse, and harassment.
There’s more to this as far as reality abuse goes – my identity was stolen. And sound can be dangerous in other ways I would like to decline to state.
I just hope others keep the community manager informed and all believe me. Because I’m concerned about the next target.While still kept up all night by a sound loop that seems deafening.
Unfortunately I swear, this time – despite being unable to record it – I can feel it in my teeth.
This is all forgetting the most interesting way to combine sound and processing. A “shot of sound” is delivered and the brain spends however long it takes to actually process what it hears. Fascinating really but I’d rather stop being a victim of experimentation.
One can live in hope.
Gaslighted to death
It’s really hard to explain how audible voices- real people or a computer- can lead to suicide after a 24 hour intense attempt at manslaughter.
It doesn’t really help to explain the preceding gaslighting, harassment and abuse. I mean sure, it helps to know enough of it would break anyone open and leave them vulnerable. But it doesn’t really bring the point home.
It’s not just a voice repeating, “Kill yourself” – but it can be.
I described it as slippery, sliding lies and digging into wounds. But while that sounds bad, what does that actually mean?
A narrative is created by loud enough or repetitive enough audio voices (or both). People to love and listen to. Or friendships to shit on. People who are real but do or don’t feel that way.
Then you are bombarded with “reports” that how they really feel is this, narrative, no that, narrative, they killed themselves because of you and this, narrative, or that narrative. Always a story and different ones. You can ignore it for a while but after a while you listen to- or at least hear what is being said. Maybe even stop to pay attention.
You can think it’s bollacks, but after enough you become desperate to know the truth. And there’s always a reason why you are either too afraid to, or they’re dead, or not real, or you don’t actually know them any other way than a virtual neighborhood.
Maybe they would think you’re crazy, or maybe wounds were dug into so you’re too upset. Maybe you don’t realize it’s audio and can’t live with “your imagination” a moment longer – particularly if the truth is. “No, I’m fine, why would you think otherwise?”
“But I hear real audio, not real psychiatric ones”.
Sure but they don’t or it’s so low they don’t even notice like delightful nurses who are kind in every way and so you believe it “can’t be real”. And that’s just with regular reality abuse.
The twenty four hour concentrated gaslighting is its own beast. The hit to cognition is intense – that goes first till you’re a drooling mess. (No seriously it once did actually do that to me)
Then the tales told weave and shift till you lose track of any facts involved. If any. You start to need an exit – but your cognition took such a hit you can’t explain and you were kept awake long enough you’re too fucking tired.
More lies, more colliding stories, and your grip on reality begins to become fluid. That makes you start to want to kill yourself – if you didn’t already want an out.
Add exhaustion, previous harassment back in now. Maybe planting moth larvae in their trash can (really happened to me, and I know what maggots look like for reasons I won’t get into). Maybe stealing, moving, or breaking objects. It all leads to loose footing and we need reality to be a little firmer.
No one listens, is around, hears the same things. Timing is always just so. And you might not survive it. I have but once barely and only because I was convinced to stop swallowing pills – and once to escape about week or so later only for the sound to chase. And I made the aforementioned mentioned very serious attempt on my life.
We can’t keep ignoring this – pretending it’s not real. We have to listen to the signs and symptoms of cognitive abuse. We have to encourage that just because you think you’re going crazy doesn’t mean you are.
Please talk about it. Because I go nonverbal. This all just too much. And right now the crew trying to kill me said they’re not stopping till I’m dead.
What is oblivion
It is 92 hours awake and 2 hours of sleep at some point madness easily flows. Add to it intense narrative based reality abuse! One disconnects from everything.
Slipping, sliding, flowing stories swimming around each other. Real sounds only some can hear. Characters, plots and plans. It all begins to blur and a dream world makes more sense than the physical/
Until you are left in oblivion.
You cease to exist. Reality becomes a red river of lies above and the blue truth below flowing in an opposite direction. And you are between, floating on both as up and down really has no meaning anymore.
You’ve been reduced to perception alone and any moment now you will cease to exist entirely.
A life raft of words is send and you’ll call upon your nemesis if you have to, anything to reconnect. Even surrendering to the lure of an abusive, controlling individual with an unusual affect on women.
Unless they were around all the time for years. Then they fear succumbing to crocodile tears and nuerolinguistic programming.
Maybe he improved. I don’t know.
Then you get some fucking sleep and overhear complaints, “you said she would be in the hospital for weeks after all that”
You write about it and someone says, “you think Nepenthe is you? Come back to reality.”
Oh if it were only so simple. And Reactive Abuse less popular in women. Perhaps my book will change that. Perhaps losing a weak form of power is truly the issue at hand.
And I was sent to Oblivion to be destroyed.
Game Over
The name of my book and my current mood.
I am Nepenthe as described as the version in the song – one I’ve never heard. But they knew the story too well for us not to be the same woman.
And reactive Abuse has made me look ugly and angry when I would prefer to be kind and gentle.
“Do you look good enough on the outside to feel good on the inside, yet?”
Please God, get me away from abusive women I’ve never met, pouring nastiness and frustration with security I just don’t understand.
Maybe trying to Vanish me was a bad idea.
Published under Melissa J Devlin
Game Over.
The game changer.
And just possibly the reason Games are being played with my head.
Sylvanna Devlin 