I wish that I had made more of an effort to be employed full-time, earlier in the conglomerate's years of persecuting me. I didn't think that anyone would hire me, so I subsisted on very little and was very depressed about not being part of life outside the Internet.
I wasn't wrong that what people say about me online is not what employers like. However, after much trial and error, I did figure out how to maintain a job by being upfront and also having written character references that addressed my Internet problem and testified to my ability to be a good employee.
I can't say that there is ever a time of even a few minutes when my sad and painful situation isn't on my mind. It's nice to have a job where I interact with people about other things, where I am valued for what I bring to work, where I am reminded that the world isn't out to get me.
I did not try to get a job that is stressful or that I have to think about outside of work, for the time being.
This world has changed enough that those who used to be known as fallen women have options.
Also, although my situation isn't exactly like Ms. Reade's, it was my impression that I had a lot of in-person stalkers before I had my last apartment. People drove from all over the country to take a gander at me. I often walked by men parked in their vehicles by the side of the road along my typical routes. They tended to be single men who looked older than I was; if they had been younger and less cognizant of possible consequences of taking the situation past stalking there would have been more danger. It was plenty unpleasant, anyway.
My last apartment was beautiful and I maintained it. I published a lot of YouTube videos which I filmed there, in which I talked about a variety of things. Even though I was forced into homelessness again for speaking up about voyeurism in that apartment, I think that people who saw those videos were convinced enough that I wasn't crazy that they weren't as amused by the idea of stalking me as they were before or might otherwise have been.
Being made homeless again did seem like a tragedy, and it was; it was cruel and unfair, and it helped me to realize how dehumanized I really was to everyone who knew that I was telling the truth and who didn't corroborate it. Maybe nobody has really changed, but I have and am moving toward health in spite of the attempts of abusers to dissuade me with ridicule. Also, being homeless again gave me the opportunity to start to consider how systems that are supposed to help homeless people are failing, and to start to write about those failures on a regular basis.
