The Crazy Schizo Stalker and His Network

The crazy schizo… every single mental health patient has a story. Today, I will tell you the story of a crazy schizo stalker and his network. A mental case that society let free, and a society is corrupted by criminal organizations.

And yes—this is a high-level criminal network.

He is crazy. He is dangerous. So crazy and dangerous that, one year, from his own house, he dared to order a wife for himself!

It was the second time I met him and his dirty, vicious, organized crime circle.

The first time, I stood up for a young woman—a Chinese woman—facing what was essentially an “arranged marriage.”

She trusted me because I defended her. In that dirty, top-level organized crime network, standing for someone’s rights was dangerous.

Today, I met him again. Like any other day, while I was out. The crazy… the CHEST NUT.

God knows how many people died in that “chest nut” house. The network was so corrupt, so untouchable, that no one dared investigate. And he continued living his crazy way.


Envy, Desire, and Family Control

He was always envious of his beautiful twin brother: curly hair, smile, intelligence, cars, bikes, clothes, world trips, and of course, a lot of women.

And that’s exactly what he wanted: sex, affection, kids, power. That’s what his family wanted to give him, just to control him.

But he was already violent, even toward his own family. He had wanted to kill his own mother. In his house, there were more than three dead bodies, and he was crazy before he became part of the extended family.

But family business is family business.

And me? I ended up as the confessor, listening to everyone—crazy there or part of theirs dirty networks.


The Making of Evil

Because he was always on the edge, his father taught him the art of disguise—to hide his feelings of inadequacy, to smooth over the fact that he was not like his brother. Step by step, he became more crazy, collecting clothes, shoes, and devising indirect ways to revenge people, plotting in his twisted mind.

Then, organized crime saw in him the perfect asset—someone to manipulate, to execute crimes, to twist the networks in their favor.

His family knew that he was behind all the dirty crimes, plots, and alliances in town. And protected him!

He became THE EVIL. In his mind, God gave everything to his brother and mother—and nothing to him.
He wanted everything for himself. At ANY cost!

His sister, skilled in intelligence, noticed the family dynamics. She decided to leverage his mental illness and desire for revenge for her own gain. She approved all his crazy wishes and gained his trust.


The House of Horrors

When he requested to live independently, it wasn’t a problem for his enlarged family and their network (they belonged to a respected social and religious group) to financially support him.

A whole house was just for him.

And everyone in that house had to be liked by him. Anyone “uncomfortable”? Dead.

So many dead bodies, and no one investigated.


The Nurse

He heard about a foreign nurse who could make people’s wishes come true. Even though he could pay for everything, winning the heart of the young Chinese woman was difficult.

He hired the nurse with one order:

“I want this Chinese girl to fall in love with me and have MY baby.”

The nurse refused. The organized crime network was furious. She was fired… after having her coffee poisoned.

Later, he brought in the entire family—nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, friends—all to serve him, to obey his desires.

To “ human traffic” a young Chinese woman with mental health problems for a crazy old man? Nothing.

The network and family ensured that his wishes were obeyed.

The crazy man was always afraid. Afraid of being called crazy.


Desensitizing the Crazy One

His sister and the dirty professional support network decided to desensitize him to women. If he wanted sex, kids, and a “normal life” supported by a dirty network, he needed to look normal.

They needed a trigger to make the crazy man “healthy.” The nurse became that trigger.


Corruption Everywhere

The nurse realized the full scale of corruption: police, politics, religion, healthcare, organized crime, intelligence services—all colluding with the crazy family. There was no friends left unaligned.

She was isolated, helpless in a hostile place. Anyone who knew the story was automatically one of them.


Today

Today, on the street, he walked disguised as another persona: jeans, clean coat, curly wig like his brother, sunglasses, hands rigid but out of pockets. Calm but anxious, secure, free, full of new tricks.

Finally: He was in charge—controlling others, putting down those beneath him, deciding who gets crumbs, who gets access.
HE BROKE THE NURSE!

The nurse smiled at her brokenness, pitying a society where crazies and organized crime overpower genuine souls.


The Witch

She remembered the old occult lady in the coffee shop:

“What would you do if you were a witch?”

“I would make a better world,” she thought. Because if God allows this to happen to good people… maybe it is not God, but Evil.

Perhaps being a witch and saving God from Evil is the only path left.

Someone must stand for God and normality, because Evil and craziness are allowed to rule—and if they do, humanity is destroyed.

They smiled… and, for some unknown reason, an image came to her mind of a remote Nordic rural place—Sweden, Norway. And the witch said:

“I am not dead!”
“And you know it!”

The nurse kept walking, knowing… as long as craziness and Evil are allowed to rule, humanity will be destroyed.

Someone must fight for God, for normality, and for justice.


This story is about madness, corruption, courage, and the courage to see the truth.

The Dance Between Predator and Prey

One seeks power.

The other seeks to be seen.

The prey is vulnerable, often begging for basic unmet needs — affection, validation, acknowledgment.

In extreme cases, even someone recognizing their pain or instability feels like love. To be acknowledged in their chaos feels like being seen.

And so they fall — “emotionally in love.”

But is it love?

Or is it trauma responding to trauma?

Predators, on the other side, often cannot love either. Many lost that capacity through their own wounds. From abused, they became abusers. They manipulate, twist, and dominate — all to meet their own unmet need: to feel powerful, to feel significant, to prove they are someone.

That one.

And so we live in a world of wounded people, unaware of their wounds, calling obsession “love” and dependency “passion.”

Love Is Not Desire

Desire is powerful. It is primal. It is one of the strongest unconscious human impulses.

But desire is not love.

Love is care.

Love is responsibility.

Love is wanting someone healed — even if that healing does not benefit you.

If someone has cancer, love is wanting them to receive professional treatment. It is not romanticizing suffering while holding hands in denial.

Love is protecting others from harm — even when the harm comes from someone close to you.

Love is not tolerating destruction in the name of loyalty.

Love is not enabling chaos.

Love is not blindness.

When Trauma Is Named Love

Too often, people confuse:

Obsession with devotion Possession with protection Dependency with connection Control with care

Unhealed trauma distorts perception.

Manipulative people exploit the concept of love for power, money, influence, or ego.

And because of this, the word love has lost meaning.

It has been reshaped, commercialized, romanticized, weaponized.

But distortion does not erase truth.

So What Is Love?

Love is not about holding hands.

Love is not about drama.

Love is not about possession.

Love is care.

Genuine care.

Care for someone’s health.

Care for someone’s freedom.

Care for someone’s dignity.

Care for someone’s growth — even when it challenges you.

Love requires awareness.

It requires maturity.

It requires mental stability.

A Wish for St. Valentine’s Day

This Valentine’s Day, I don’t wish you passion.

I wish you clarity.

I wish you the ability to understand what your love truly means — not the version sold to you, not the version driven by hormones or fear of loneliness.

Find your definition.

Heal your unmet needs.

So you don’t mistake trauma for romance.

So you don’t confuse power for connection.

So you don’t chase obsession and call it destiny.

More normal, grounded, genuine love could help this world.

And maybe the first step is honesty.

Showering with a Broken Leg Is an Extreme Sport

Once upon a time… guess what? I’m back. 😎

No one ever tells you how hard it is to take a shower with a broken leg and alone. But IMHO, that’s the fun part!

Ah, and I forgot to mention one more important tool for me — the trash picker. As a “broken-leg woman,” it’s essential because:

  • You never know what trash is on your way that you need to pick up safely.
  • Sometimes things fall, and picking them up is unsafe or impossible.
  • And the best use? IMHO, it doubles as a defense weapon against ghosts, crazy people, and bad vibes — because you never know when they’re close. 😂

So, I keep it next to my shower bench. And it finally helped me reach the top of the shower curtain, which was too far to reach otherwise. By this time, after so much hustle, I was already tired and almost ready to give up. 😂

Sitting on the bench and stepping into the tub is the most dangerous procedure I’ve done since I was once pushed to walk and threatened on a bridge by a gang member — but that’s another story, full of corruption.

I thought to myself: If I lived through that, I can live through this. Transferring my self, pivoting onto my feet, from wheelchair to the bench onto the tub — and I did it! 💪


Tips for Balance and Safety

  1. Always stay balanced while sitting.
  2. If your wounds aren’t fully healed, ask your doctor and if he is ok, cover the leg with a special waterproof cover protector . It’s uncomfortable, but it works.
  3. Never, ever shower alone if your setup is plastic or slippery — emergency slip risk is real.
  4. Keep your hands, feet, and floor dry at all times when you transfer. No mats that could slide (see my previous story).
  5. Pivot slowly to the safe spot — like your wheelchair — don’t jump.

Shower as Therapy

Turning on the shower was my “AHA!” moment. Take a deep breath, do it, and IMHO, you can shower almost as usual with proper precautions:

  • Keep your leg slightly bent under the bench or lateral so the water never hits wounds directly.
  • Rinse thoroughly, including “hard-to-reach” parts.
  • Use long-handled scrubbing tools (see the previous story).
  • Even with warm water, your ankle will loosen up — perfect for gentle ROM exercises (if approved by your doctor).
  • DO NOT stand alone — I only did it because I had Siri ready to call 911 and “spying eyes” from my house.

Humor & Life Lessons

Wash your “camel” properly — yes, IMHO, it’s more than a kitty, it’s a big, fluffy camel. Rinse carefully so soap doesn’t hit the floor. Dry thoroughly while still seated. Dry your hands and feet first, then carefully put on boot while still stable on the bench.

Your life may be messy. People may be crazy. But only you control how beautiful your life can be.

  • Drink water.
  • Take a snack.
  • Breathe.
  • Rest.

Shower is therapy. Cleaning is therapy. Fun is therapy. Proof that you’re alive, no matter what or who tried to put you down.


Takeaway with you

It’s all about resilience. You must thrive and survive, and yes, you can do it.

By the way, what moisturizing body cream do you use? 😉
Next story: I’ll tell you about my creams, perfumes, and how I survived the most horrifying place imaginable — surrounded by twisted, crazy people.


Day Two of My Broken Ankle Recovery: Coffee, Music & Rehab Fun

Day two of my ankle recovery, and six weeks since the crash.

When it keeps raining, mornings are hard — painful, stiff, and slow.
Still, I try to keep going by focusing on the good. And today, there is good.

The good news: I advanced from wearing the foamwalkingboots 24/7 to using them only when I walk.
And no — I’m still not walking yet 😅
But at least now I can sleep better.

Yupiii. And that is great, isn’t it?

Another very good reason to wake up and live with a stiff ankle: coffee
I wish it were café con leche, like in Spain… but it’s not.
So I adapt.

I found a bonbon coffee, close enough to my beloved Spanish version, and I keep going there.
Honestly? Still cheaper than a therapist. LOL.

Physiotherapy is expensive here, but thank God we have AI, YouTube, and people like me who share their recovery journeys online.

I still have my resistance bands from years ago — back when I used them to become pretty sexy and slim.
Done with that era! 😂
Now they’re officially reassigned: ankle rehab mode.

YouTube music on.
AI‑generated rehab routine.
I compare it with what others did before me and with my surgeon’s notes.
And then… let’s go, girl.

I discovered that doing exercises sitting on a chair actually works well.
And the songs — oh, the songs — they’re amazing. They truly make me happy.

I might even make a playlist for you:
BrokeYourAnkleRehab 😄

Every day brings a new challenge and a new discovery. In everything.

Like figuring out how to clean soap off your body while sitting on a bathroom chair, using a non‑movable shower head.
Yes. That is a thing.
But we’ll talk about that another time.

Maybe God gave me this challenge so I could teach others how to survive it — with laughter, strength, and honesty.

But for now, until tomorrow:
Find something fun in everything.
Stay up.
Find a good song.
And get yourself a pot with a long handle to wash those bubbles 😂

Love you, like always.
Be good. Be genuine. Be strong.