How I've been stalked

Trigger warning! This post is sharing examples of how I'm stalked by Daniel Andersson (and others), since 2009 that the Swedish police ignores. But I thought it would be good to compile it and publish once and for all.

2009

Daniel contacted me by emails, phone calls and text messages, stating things like I should know how much he loves me and that we already would be a couple because of his address bearing similarities with my writing. He had seen me dancing Hula in the Sweden Got Talent-show on TV4 in 2007 and thereupon read my blog. He showed up at my door in Malmö, Sweden, with one purple and one white rose, after texting me and I had replied a no. I called the police who removed him from my apartment building. He also had threatened me in emails that he would kidnap me and take me to a cabin in the woods, "far away from any police station".

2010

He then proceeded by leaving a threatening voice mail that the bomb might get off, would I leave as planned to Honolulu. After I had arrived in Honolulu and registered for class and was looking for my own apartment, he found my American cellphone number online and started calling me again, while I just hung up on him after saying no. Daniel then showed up in Honolulu at the same hostel as me, whereupon I reported him to the American police, got a temporary restraining order filed in court that the police served him with, with me as a witness. I got help from hostel staff to leave to go to my classes without him following me, and then he broke the restraining order by sending me another text, that I reported. He was then arrested and I received a Permanent Restraining Order for 3 years, after meeting in court, where he was delusional and asking if I didn't change my mind, as if he didn't understand that I was the one reporting him. I also met with the FBI about his bomb threat and their agents told me how to be safer online. I didn't see him after that and moved to my own little studio and continued with my studies, although rattled and stressed, for which I got some counseling. My wallet was stolen with my original restraining order in. And someone disconnected the gas hose to my stove so it leaked, which too could have been done by Daniel.

2012

Back in Sweden, in Stockholm, he had commented on my blog while I was detained and then emailed me again. I took it directly to the Swedish police, but the administrative court here denied me a restraining order. I started noticing things being placed outside of where I lived in a small suburb called Axelsberg, like a Hawaiian Tropic bottle in the middle of winter. My eye-gel bottle had become emptied and rinsed out from my beauty bag in my room and I heard some kind of voices inside the vents, on the roof of the building, similar to what I had described in my blog about how it was in the detention center where I had been held by ICE. When I asked another woman staying there, she said it must have been a ghost, possibly because the Swedish yoga teacher I was in a conflict with, used to host a TV-show about ghosts.

2013

After moving to an apartment over the summer through a gracious girl letting me sublease it, I began to breathe a little better, since it was fully owned by her and no extra keys were on the loose. I began attending Immanuel Church's International Fellowship with two American pastors, who were really nice to begin with. In the fall, I stayed at a public housing project, type shelter, with my own room, that suddenly became infested with bedbugs and only in that room. I thought instantly about how it had been at the hostel in Honolulu and how my friend there among staff, had shared how bedbugs can be frozen and then thawed and keep on living, and only become terminated through heat, such as through dryers. My copy of my American restraining order was stolen from my room.

2014

I moved into my own little studio apartment, operated by the city, with only card keys to the door. And here, hell began. Someone placed a chunk of black hair inside the shower drain. My little yellow dress, that I had just shown in a blogpost that I had used for my first Isadora Duncan dance class, suddenly was missing from my wardrobe. Someone placed a flower-lei made of paper outside my apartment building and wrote Aloha on the wall in grafiiti style. One of the women from church, stood waiting at a nearby streeet with her bicycle that she then rode back and forth, passing me several times. Another time, my printed out sheet with the address to the US Embassy in Stockholm had been stolen from my files inside my apartment, the same sheet of paper, I had written down the name and cellphone number to the man they had referred me to, as a contact for the FBI in northern Europe to continue my report of foul treatment at FDC Honolulu, that I had now compiled into my second book. I had also vented my experience with one of the ministers at church, but who then later called and pretented to be the embassy contact person for the FBI. Another person, with another much lighter voice called too and pretended to be him. Good thing, I've always had an ear for dialects to differentiate them. This was of course too reported. In late July, I collapsed with a severe bloodpressure fall, when I had become awakened early in the morning by a strong sunflare into the windows of a neighboring building that made it look almost like 9/11. I went to the doctor's office and they monitored my heart and later took my vitals to see, what my deficiency was. During summer, where the streets were closed for a festival, a group of police med lined themselves up in front of me in a laughing manner. Then in the fall, someone, Daniel I presume, placed a gold-chain, looking like it was for a guy, inside my fabric coin purse and stolen my other, that I used to bear my cross, inside my apartment. I threw it out and reported this too, to the police of course, who did nothing. Empty cabs came outside and drove away again. The same music I had shared online, was played loudly from a car outside my window. People showing up at locations I had googled addresses for and driving around. Instead, I was called psychotic by the Swedish social workers, who wanted to have me submitted to a closed ward, while at the same time they were the ones who in the reception at the health clinic, picked out an insurance card from a pile, with the number 911 on, just to mock my American federal prison-number.

2015

Luckily, I got help from another social worker to move back to the hostel-type public housing I had stayed in, during the beginning of 2013, that is, to live around other people. The stalking continued with things removed or changed around in my room, which could have been staff, or someone else living there, if not the stalker. I went to Greece and then to Portugal for a much needed vacation, whereupon a girl with the Orange is the new black tattooed on her thigh, laid down next to me, on another quite empty beach. I discovered how Jenji Kohan had stolen much of my content from my blog and now book about FDC Honolulu, including direct quotes. Someone broke into my manuscript several times and altered it, without my approval. I also saw that the American ministers at Immanuel Church had printed a faulty version of my book, that I had entrusted to them, with a really awful formatting, as if to pretend it was an essay. As if a professional copywriter wouldn't notice the difference? Once at the service, they pointed a spotlight on me in the back of the room, another time they walked around with a baby after christening and turning it away from me, given the Hawaiian name Anea, meaning something bad like rotten wood or worthless, that I alerted them about. I think, the baby didn't make it. During fall, I had to sleep in two different shelters, where I was stalked again with a white rose given to the staff to give to me, and a photo of a Finnish modern dancer. When I was looking at apartments, I was met with a real life size cut out cardboard figure in one, and crow-feet in another. A group of people started acting like a street theatre, with lines similar to what I had written online. In the post office, where I picked up my mail, the woman behind the desk said "because the kitten is so cute" to me, in some deliberate way. Another woman all dressed in green from top to toe, including sun glasses and a suitcase (like I had), started marching back and forth outside of the post office. Another time, a bouquet of orange roses was placed on top of a trash can outside the central station. Lots of times, a toothpaste was placed by the sidewalk, after I had blogged about going to the dentist etc.

2016

Got another sublet lease finally, where someone, Daniel I presume, put a pen inside my laundry, placed a thread on top of a carpet and then later at the hostel during months I couldn't live there, the stalking continued with placed one-day contacts and a huge red lace-bra placed on my bed, in a room where only I slept. Outside of another apartment, someone placed a rubic's cube, after I had posted something about one online, in another almost empty apartment, someone placed postcards with elephants on (like I shared in my book, that I have collected) etc. When in a regular, private, dr's office, he continued my social workers' request to call me psychotic, while several people in the waiting room left when I got out, without going in themselves. Someone stood in the corner by the small hostel with a phone, noting when I left.

2017

Saw Daniel Andersson inside a hostel, where I had kept a couple of green chairs, while I was changing apartments. In another hostel in Stockholm, my green beauty bag with all of its content, was stolen right by the reception on top of my suitcase. At another apartment that I sublet during summer, I noticed someone placing a row of pearls outside of the building in another suburb called Lidingö, after I had written online that my next book was going to be entitled "pearls of wisdom".

2018

Saw Daniel Andersson run in front of me outside the Lidl store on Sveavägen in Stockholm, doing some kind of jump. My water bottle made of metal, was made a dent in. When I came to Münich in Germany, he did the same thing close to Mozartstrasse, where I was staying at a hostel, and placed a stuffed animal outside of the dance studio where I was attending a workshop. This continued in Frankfurt am Main, where someone knuckled a German license plate with number 911 on and placed on the grass alongside Mainzer Landstrasse, where I walked often to ask strangers for help with money to pay for food and hostel. Someone squirted out bodylotion aimed at me and after me and once again I saw Daniel Andersson inside the Frankfurt Central Hostel, where also my laptop was stolen from my bag on top of my suitcase next to the reception, in front of cameras. It was also here, he showed up with a green long bamboo rod, like the one I had gotten from a nice neighbor in Honolulu, and placed it on the street together with teabags.

2019

Someone placed a gun made of wood, outside the door to the hotel where I stayed a couple of nights in Frankfurt am Main. I asked for a German restraining order and filed several reports at Polizei Hessen. I also saw him riding in a silver grey car twice in Portugal, once alongside Avenida Marginal by Sao Pedro, and once standing parked outside of the Rivera Hotel in Carcavelos, after a pair of newly bought blue panties had been stolen at a hostel in Sao Joao. In Parede, the Swedish yoga teacher that I was in a conflict with, stood outside my hostel and talked in Swedish. Another time the HSI-agent I've contacted in 2011 when the university delayed my transfer of credits and thus putting me out of visa-status, showed up at 1.30 am in a car by Tamariz, across from where I was borrowing wifi, before going to bed at the hostel. Cash bills disappeared from another hostel in Monte de Estoril, all reported to the English speaking police in Cascais, besides the Swedish.

2020

In Belém, Portugal, someone placed a yellow rose on the crosswalk by the station, where someone also had written blouse in Swedish. Someone also wrote the initials DA on an electric box on the street, and "CIA is gay" both on a wall with graffiti and with a pen on a step in a staircase by a park, where I had taken photos and posted on my Instagram, after I had commented on the gay US Ambassador in Germany's facebook page a couple of times. (The group stalking seemed to cease after I had reported it to the CIA too.) Someone, presumably Daniel again, placed a small gray pencil inside my locker, inside my room at the hostel, attached to a mini notebook, for my birthday, when I was out.

2021-23

Socks disappeared several times. Something else was placed in another suburb called Upplands Väsby, by the train station. My shoes were made holes in, by what seems like a nail, wintertime, so they started leaking. Besides that I was being gaslit and mistreated by Swedish authorities. Applied for a new restraining order, but was denied again.

2023-26

Someone has stolen several documents that were printed out, as well as emails and digital copies with evidence from my current apartment. Here, soap has been poured out, as well as spices and butter scraped off. Someone has painted around my bathroom window with white paint on the facade, as if to be able to see it better from a distance. A pair of grey panties were stolen from my laundry bag inside my apartment. Socks were taken and then put back weeks later from my wardrobe. He has drawn a mark on my sleeve of my trenchcoat, as well as my former wintercoat. He has gone through my trash and put old dirt on top of a newly repotted and watered plant, cut into my dishrag, stolen teabags, pushed together three pairs of unused toothbrushes inside my bathroom cabinet, turned up my lipbalm, and stolen prescription medication. Meanwhile, the social workers have an extra key, both the old and the new. Put a teddybear outside the apartment building and other things. Car standing with lights on in the middle of the street at nighttime. Someone walking up the stairs in my apt building and staying in them. And of course, numerous computer and phone intrusions made by some kind of surveillance type of program.

Nothing, has been investigated by the Swedish police, including the thefts.

And all this because I'm not married with kids and have a regular job. But why haven't I, you think?