Disclaimer: This post contains my firsthand account of documented harassment and stalking behavior. The events described are supported by evidence, including messages and timestamps. Any opinions expressed are grounded in personal experience and the impact this behavior has had on my safety and well-being.
If you haven't read the first few parts, I recommend you do so before continuing. Here they are, in order:
Part One, Part 1A (be sure to read this before advancing to the next part), Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, and Part Thirteen.
Shall we continue with the...
I couldn't help myself. Well, I could. But I didn't want to. I have to find some way to make light of what is a very dark and disturbing set of circumstances I've had to endure over this past spring and summer. It's not just what I went through with Kyle. Dealing with cishet men in general has been a nightmare—especially from 2023 to now. I have to steel myself daily not to get rage-baited, all while managing hormone fluctuations (still not getting enough, still fighting with insurance) and adjusting to surgically induced menopause, shifting body rhythms, failing memory, and a stack of ongoing health issues.
Historically, I've been good at tuning out distractions—refusing to get pulled into pointless conflict or controversy. But lately, I can't escape it. Reality keeps throwing toxic people and situations my way, mostly men. Each encounter forces me to confront, cut off, or redefine what I tolerate. I am detoxing a LONG expired way of navigating these ever-shifting planes. I'm still in the liminal, messy middle. Dating apps are a major part of that purge—something I've had to gradually wean myself off of. This has been an ongoing issue for me since 2023. I've gotten better about it the last year or two, but I'd still occasionally relapse and get back on the apps. The results are always the same: I'm left feeling even more lonely, disillusioned, and bitter each time I make an attempt to seek out genuine companionship.
But it's more than that. I am deeply emotionally wounded right now—especially after this insane series of events that went down this past spring and summer—and I am fully cognizant of that. I am not okay. I am a mess, and even if I were to find (or be found by) the elusive needle in the haystack, I wouldn't be ready for that person. I am not my best self right now, and I don't think that anyone in my position would be.
Likewise, my values and desires also continue to shift. This is a process that noticeably began in 2023, and I am sure I have touched on this before in previous posts. I want to feel good again, and not in a performative 'success is the best revenge' kind of a way. Because I don't care (or no longer want to care—because I have, in the past, not cared at times and have cared at other times) how my way of living is to be perceived. It's (once again) no longer important to me if my life looks successful on the outside or not. I'd like to say that it never was all that important, but that wouldn't be entirely true. It's when I am wrapped up in an unrequited love situation that I do care about being perceived as successful.
What I most want right now is to not feel like I am about to drop dead. To have some of my chronic issues go back into remission and get fully realigned. To be content in a slow-paced life. Consumed by my passion projects but not creatively scattered (or doing it for the wrong reasons). And also, not energetically blocked from channeling on a daily basis because I am stuck having to deal with the emotional and physiological fallout of dealing with one traumatic situation on top of another. But I do feel like I am getting my priorities straightened back out. I've recently gotten super invested in this haunted object collection. I'm in love with it. I feel like it perfectly complements all of my other aspirations. It's not like I've ever dealt with possessed toys before or anything… 😏
Okay, I think I have gone off on enough tangents. It's time to get back to the timeline. Each post is one step closer to me finishing these series so that I don't have to relive it indefinitely.
Back to it. The Kyle Files. That's right. May 27th, 2025, to be more precise. Get ready for the whiplash (praise-degrade-praise cycle, splitting):
You'll notice that this is a regular part of his lore (if I haven't already pointed that out):
I had never heard of them until Kyle. I wonder if there are any in existence that are haunted?! I kinda like 'em. 😂
He never "saw" me at all. Delulu Labubu.
Heard is his last name, but this ties in with his whole 'Amber' narrative. Which we will see again in future posts.
I had to pause for a moment while I was uploading those screenshots, because one of the spirits was trying to get my attention. Either that or my cat's attention!
The ball started rolling around the track on its own. Daisy was on the other side of the room, drinking water, when it happened. I'll be posting a little video about it on my TikTok channel tonight or tomorrow. I think it was Kimber who did it! She's the second (out of three) haunted dolls I have recently acquired. She's a little jester and is said to be a positive spirit. I haven't had her long enough to really get to witness too much of her personality just yet.
Alright, I think I'm going to leave it there for now since I went off topic for the majority of this post. I'm hoping that there won't be as big of a gap in between this part and the next. I have several doctor appointments this week but aim to at least get part fifteen out in a couple of days. I'm trying to refrain from making any promises about posting deadlines, but the intention is to start pumping out some more of these in the coming weeks. I really am ready to close out this chapter. But I'm also determined to document the full timeline of what I went through—because honestly, it's absurd when you lay it all out. And it matters. It serves as a reminder to myself: I made it through that too. I didn't let that break me either. Even at my worst, even at my lowest, even at my most vulnerable, I'm still a motherfuckin' /G\!
