Recently, I received a private message from a reader named D. He told me he had written to Alice Miller years ago and even received a reply, but he was too self-conscious to share it. He also shared his reflections on Mark Zuckerberg — how the tech mogul’s carefully polished image hides the wounded child who never heard the words: “I love you just as you are. You don’t have to perform for me.”
D sees clearly the tragedy in Zuckerberg’s life, yet he is still afraid to face his own. His words reminded me again why so many people follow my blog in secret, leaving private messages but not public comments.
Secret Followers
In 2017, I wrote a post titled "Secret Followers." Even then, I noticed how many people read my blog silently, afraid to be seen. I understand their fear. After I published my book A Dance to Freedom, I was targeted by a mob of sociopaths at my job of almost ten years. It was an orchestrated psychological warfare campaign designed to destroy me. To watch someone go through that is triggering, because it reminds people of their own fears of being punished, scapegoated, or left alone. So they visit in secret, but rarely share or comment.
Why I Survived
If I had not truly resolved my childhood repression, I would not have survived. My dyslexia, which was once seen as a handicap, became a catalyst in my liberation. When present events triggered old wounds, I often could not write. In those moments, I lay on the couch or in bed in a fetal position, just like a baby. The difference was that I now understood what was happening — I knew I was reliving the child’s fears and grief that had once been too dangerous to feel.
I couldn’t talk to anyone in my family — they would have only pushed medication or cult-like rationalizations, as they did when I was a teenager. Instead, I locked myself away with Alice Miller’s books and website. Only after the storm of feelings passed would I begin to put them into words. That is how I discovered emotional freedom: not by analyzing, not by sympathizing with others, but by consciously feeling my own truth.
The Eye of the Storm
Later, at my job, I found myself again in the middle of psychological warfare. Sitting in the gatehouse, I felt like I was in the eye of a storm, watching sociopaths spin around me. I could sense their next traps and maneuvers even before they unfolded in their board meetings. They tried to make me their scapegoat, their poison container. But because I had already faced the fears of the child I once was, they could not hijack my mind.
Since publishing my book, I have been targeted in this way four times. Each time, those who attacked me exposed themselves. Some have already died. Now, the sociopaths in power pretend not to see me, as if I were invisible. They are afraid, because coming after me means exposing themselves.
Why I Wrote My Book
If I had chosen to use my psychological knowledge to build a cult, I could have made far more money. In our society, no one cares if you exploit others to get rich, as long as you don’t challenge their lies and illusions. But I never wanted followers or slaves. I wanted freedom for myself and for others. That is why I wrote my book.
I remember my ghostwriter once told me: “You are bringing everyone down. You are not going to make a lot of friends with this book.” And I answered: “I am not writing a book to make friends.”
The Most Dangerous Moment
The most dangerous moment in any toxic relationship is when you are about to leave. As long as they believe they own you, they love you — or at least, they love their illusion of you. But the moment they sense you are truly free, the mask of love vanishes, and their rage erupts. That is when they gather all their forces to destroy you.
This is what happened to me. When the sociopaths at my workplace believed I was under their control, they showered me with gifts, dinners, and attention. But the instant they saw I was free, they turned against me with all the power at their disposal. They could not live with the reality of my emotional freedom.
The Difference
D’s story, and the many “secret followers” who visit silently, remind me of the difference between seeing the wound in others and healing it in yourself. To heal means to consciously feel the fears of the child you once were, without repression, without distraction, without escape. When you have truly done this, you lose the fear of standing alone. You no longer need to hide in the shadows. No one can manipulate you again.
That is real freedom. And it is worth more than money, power, or false immortality.
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