I took Savannah for a walk earlier this morning along the bay and saw a few men with binoculars and cameras walking along the same path we usually walk. One of the men tried to give Savannah a treat, but she didn’t eat it. She growled a little and we turned around and walked the other way. I started thinking about the conversation I had with John last week in therapy. We were arguing about the symptoms I experience that resemble those of someone suffering from schizophrenia. I explained in our therapy session that I didn’t believe my symptoms were due to schizophrenia. I’ve always believed that the voices I heard were real people. This didn’t make sense to John or my therapist. From their perspective, I am in denial of my illness. From my perspective, however, I am not really suffering from an illness, but rather something that is very similar. Hard to explain. I told John that we were arguing needlessly. He is never going to convince me that my symptoms are due to schizophrenia, and I am never going to convince him that they aren’t. So we agreed to disagree.
Our conversation reminded me of a letter I wrote to SGI President Ikeda last November. I started writing President Ikeda monthly starting in 2010 when I really started to become fearful of the “devilish functions” that had been pursuing me for so many years. I decided that since I couldn’t tell anyone what I believed was happening (without them trying to convince me it was a mental illness), I would write to President Ikeda and tell him. I’ve continued to write almost every month since that time. Last November I re-read some of the letters I had written to him, and I realized that I had been mostly very afraid and mostly venting my anger. Yet I never actually explained what I thought had happened – in other words – I never described how this extraordinarily chaotic situation came about. After all, it isn’t as if there is some logical or rational explanation that explains everything, but there are definitely a few things that occurred that are mostly plausible reasons for why things are the way they are. It’s definitely a long story, which is why I am writing it in the form of a memoir. Here is the text of the letter I wrote to SGI President Ikeda last November:
Dear President Ikeda, I am writing again to explain why I believe the mafia came after me in 2002. I don’t believe that I actually have schizoaffective disorder. I believe that the voices I hear are real people in my environment. From 1999-2000 I worked as an intern at the International Environment & Development Group (IEDG) in Washington, DC. I became suspicious of my supervisor’s activities. I noticed a few of the places that he had visited while I was working with him, and looked at where he was travelling on business, presumably to attend meetings with government officials or other non-profit organizations that may have also been interested in establishing a bioprospecting program in their country. I looked up a few of my supervisor’s travel locations on a world map, and saw that all the places he had visited were in some way related to the development of nuclear weapons, nuclear technology, or biological weapons production. He traveled to Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico during the time a Chinese man was questioned for stealing computer hard drives. His next project with IEDG was located at a former bioweapons facility in Russia. He had applied for a $10 million grant for this project from the U.S. Department of Energy, although I don’t believe he ever received the money. I was very concerned and decided to submit an anonymous, online tip to a White House website that doesn’t exist anymore. I described IEDG, who I was working for, where my supervisor was travelling, and what I suspected he was doing.
No one from the White House ever contacted me, but two years later (in 2002), my supervisor and his mafia friends tracked me to Oxnard, California where I was renting a room from a young couple who lived there. Ever since that time, the mafia, the girl who had rented me the room (and her “new” boyfriend) have been harassing me, following me around from place to place, yelling at me, threatening me and my husband and my family, and my friends. In 2010 I wrote to the Sunnyvale Police Department, I emailed the San Francisco FBI office (twice), and I spoke to one person from the FBI on the phone (who told me there was nothing they could do because they didn’t deal with “harassment”). I am aware that something is being done to address this issue, although I have no idea exactly what. I (we) are still living under the pretense that I have schizoaffective disorder, and that the voices I hear are just symptoms of this illness, when in fact this isn’t the reality. Unfortunately, I myself have no proof (pictures, emails, phone calls, names, addresses, etc…) that these people exist. They have intentionally hid from me all these years. The mafia (nor my former roommate, her “replacement”, or her boyfriend) have ever confronted me in person or made themselves known to me in any way except by screaming, yelling and the occasional whispering, mocking and harassment in my head. I have never met them. I don’t know who they are or where they came from other than the former roommate who seems to have left last February. This is why it has been so difficult. I hope this helps explain things better. Thank you President Ikeda! Sincerely, Jennifer Myers.
I was getting so angry and frustrated that after our therapy session last week I told John that I didn’t want to have the conversation about illness vs. non-illness again. I also said in last week’s session that treating this as symptoms of a mental illness is like giving someone cancer treatment when they have a broken arm. The real problem isn’t being addressed. Needless to say I continue to make every effort. I have also decided to refer to the “voices” with the Buddhist term “devilish functions,” because in reality, this is exactly what they are.