I became involved with a woman I cared deeply for. Our feelings were mutual for a while, but everything changed when she met a man named Criostoir. After that, she distanced herself from me, and even though I unfriended her on Facebook, I was devastated.
Criostoir seemed to pick up on that vulnerability and began provoking me. Whenever I reacted emotionally online, he fed off it. When my former friend likely broke up with him, he grew angry and turned his attention fully toward me.
He began obsessively watching my social media, reacting to everything I posted, and sharing hints about me with his online circle without using my name directly. He involved his friends, including people who already had a history of stalking or intrusive behavior. They encouraged him, and the whole situation escalated into coordinated online harassment.
I started noticing patterns — posts, comments, and references appearing on my feed that were clearly meant for me. People connected to him began posting things that mirrored details from my life, from my emotional state to topics I had searched for or written about. It became psychologically torturous because it felt like my private world was being used against me.
At one point, he managed to convince some radical feminist women online that I was a trans-identified male. That triggered their hostility, and they joined in the harassment, believing they were exposing someone they perceived as deceptive. When they eventually realized I was a woman, they didn't stop—they were already deeply involved, and the dynamic had turned into something obsessive and cruel. Some of them even seemed to enjoy provoking reactions from me.
Criostoir eventually found a girlfriend from that same community who supported him and participated in the harassment. It became a network of people who watched, commented, and inserted themselves into my emotional experiences, turning my online life into a form of voyeuristic abuse.
If someone reads this and thinks it's "just paranoia," that's their choice—but it doesn't mean the harassment wasn't real. Online mobs, coordinated bullying, and targeted psychological abuse do happen, and unless someone has lived through it, they often underestimate how overwhelming and violating it feels. I wouldn't have believed something like this could happen myself—until it happened to me.
I was emotionally vulnerable, and that made me an easy target. They knew how to provoke me, how to get reactions, and how to turn my distress into entertainment. The constant pressure, the obsession, the feeling of being watched and judged—it created a level of psychological harm that I'm still dealing with.
Criostoir seemed to pick up on that vulnerability and began provoking me. Whenever I reacted emotionally online, he fed off it. When my former friend likely broke up with him, he grew angry and turned his attention fully toward me.
He began obsessively watching my social media, reacting to everything I posted, and sharing hints about me with his online circle without using my name directly. He involved his friends, including people who already had a history of stalking or intrusive behavior. They encouraged him, and the whole situation escalated into coordinated online harassment.
I started noticing patterns — posts, comments, and references appearing on my feed that were clearly meant for me. People connected to him began posting things that mirrored details from my life, from my emotional state to topics I had searched for or written about. It became psychologically torturous because it felt like my private world was being used against me.
At one point, he managed to convince some radical feminist women online that I was a trans-identified male. That triggered their hostility, and they joined in the harassment, believing they were exposing someone they perceived as deceptive. When they eventually realized I was a woman, they didn't stop—they were already deeply involved, and the dynamic had turned into something obsessive and cruel. Some of them even seemed to enjoy provoking reactions from me.
Criostoir eventually found a girlfriend from that same community who supported him and participated in the harassment. It became a network of people who watched, commented, and inserted themselves into my emotional experiences, turning my online life into a form of voyeuristic abuse.
If someone reads this and thinks it's "just paranoia," that's their choice—but it doesn't mean the harassment wasn't real. Online mobs, coordinated bullying, and targeted psychological abuse do happen, and unless someone has lived through it, they often underestimate how overwhelming and violating it feels. I wouldn't have believed something like this could happen myself—until it happened to me.
I was emotionally vulnerable, and that made me an easy target. They knew how to provoke me, how to get reactions, and how to turn my distress into entertainment. The constant pressure, the obsession, the feeling of being watched and judged—it created a level of psychological harm that I'm still dealing with.
