Sense to Action: A blog by Jennifer Murdoch

Consolidated List of Assaults and Torture ... all I can remember and/or see evidence of after "waking up" in the morning

• Multiple vag/genital surgeries never discussed with me and unnecessary (as far as I am aware). Went from average slut, to tightest virgin, to "highly used mother of octuplets" in a few months. [I am not aware of either birthing or willingly consenting to the gathering and/or distribution of my eggs OR DNA for reproductive purposes AT ALL. I WOULD NOT HAVE... I can tell you that much.] My cervix is not where it should be, and I don't know what, if anything, in terms of 0...N uterii lie beyond... PEOPLE ARE SICK, and no... I did not consent nor was any of this magical science discussed with me at any point in my life beyond what I knew from university class studies in genetics (the year before I switched into Comp Sci at Dalhousie University).
• Waking up to a tampon bloodied from the outside in... not the one I put in the night before.
• I have electronic hardware embedded in my body in places I don't know the name of. I do not appreciate vag or anal stimulation while riding the bus, brain damage when I lie down during the day, or the "zapping" of my back muscles when I need those muscles to support my spine/neck.
• Headaches, sometimes serious and lasting >24hrs, on command. Some of these may be drug induced, perhaps some via other "causes" embedded in my body
• Broken C-spine/neck from a chiropractor
• Busted lower back discs
• Both feet were broken at different points in time and healed (I guess... I can walk today) within 2 months of them breaking
• During a period of time I was drinking MORE calcium-rich beverages than usual, my leg bones were zapped (maybe with ultrasound while I slept??) so they are now much skinnier in diameter than they should be. It is the reason I choose not to run today, but still go to the rec center for the pool and weight room a tiny bit.
• My toes are all deformed, and have zero sensitivity at the ends of some of them... but they don't look "abnormal" to someone else probably.
• I have my mother's broken fingernail that grows all messed up.
• For weeks, I woke up having poo from some unknown origin shoved up my asshole. At the same time, I also woke up covered in urine. But, unlike my troubles in my youth, I don't have those problems as an adult to anywhere near the same degree so it is a mystery where that came from. Possibly it arose from a visit from a "well-intentioned" nocturnal chiropractor I would never have consented to and whom should be in jail.
• Waking up with bougars of unknown origin up my nose. Plus, something in my nose/nasal cavity can make it run or dry out whenever...
• I have artificial wrinkles on my face/forehead that just appeared one day when I wasn't even homeless. The botox (I assume that's what it is) in my cheeks is gross and looks stupid... thanks for the laugh lines of a 90 yo grandmother.
• Messed up shoulder joints. They work, but are suspicious.
• My elbows are REALLY painful much of the time.
• My eyesight IS COMPLETE SHIT after artifically making it worse somehow, and then some asshole stealing both my contact lenses and glasses. It also seems like someone or some thing has the ability to turn up or down the acuity of my vision remotely within a small range that is still nowhere near perfect.
• I piss and shit and fart on remote command. (Who the fuck wrote those APIs?? They should probably be in jail with a terrible lawyer that has no idea of any theoretical or real clinical applications...)
• I wake up some mornings with my hair drastically thinned and/or dyed/cut... it doesn't look good today... Somehow, not that worried about it...
• My skull has flat spots where flat spots didn't used to be
• I have a few noticeable "bumps" that could be implants around my body... neck, skull, etc.
• "Itchy" ears with unknown origin... but hearing is so far unaffected it would seem. There was one day I thought I was zapped and hearing slightly muffled afterward, but it hasn't really been noticeable/perceptable since that day.
• My general balance seems to be "adjustable" to some degree... which sucks because my balance sucked before all this started.
• I swear both my knees (including the post-op patellectomy knee) are "fatter" than they used to be... thanks a lot for that...
• My ankles have had bone shaved off the protruding bone parts to make them smooth. Great...
• My right thigh that formerly had some tightness after my surgery 13 years ago was "zapped" so the tightness disappeared, but the feeling sensation that had improved somewhat over years of healing completely vanished... I have now have a HUGE area I cannot superfically feel touch over.
• I think my hips might be a tiny bit skinnier
• Rib cage moves and is MUCH higher and wider/broader than prior to my neck being broken and my entire spine shifting.
• "Tattoo" (just a circle like a fake mole) in my pelvic region makes me barf to think of my bro's.
• When I wasn't homeless, the food in my fridge was either poisoned or replaced with or supplemented with gross tasting shit. Pretty suspicious about drinking A LOT of human breast milk...
• One of my roommates assaulted me by picking me up out of a chair, throwing me on the floor near a metal door frame i could have hit (but didn't), and knealing on my rib cage. He subsequently got me arrested for assaulting him which is a 100% fabrication.
• Bed bugs and infestation of my vag with parasites while living at 844 Johnson. Then got arrested and charged/put in hospital for the criminally insane for trying to steal a suitcase and new bed sheets from The Bay after spraying the room with Raid and flea repellent I also had to steal because I had no money.
• Getting gassed with unknown gasses is super fun... pepper spray, and who knows what else that makes it hard or impossible to breath normally for short periods of time... And whatever gas or brain implant keeps me asleep long enough to rape me most nights lately.
• No reliable blood test results, but tampons usually get bloody from the inside out... not waking up to it the other way around. Various other abuse and procedures likely whilst unconscious unnaturally (I am usually a VERY light sleeper).
• Cough on command it would seem. And prior to 13 years ago, if I did smoke tobacco cigarettes, I never needed to spit. I don't know what causes that... benevolent as the intention might be... but it's annoying as hell.
• Upper tooth on my left side is sawwed to be saw-like. Happened shortly after giving a therapeutic (for me) blow job, so I was mad as hell when I woke up to find my tooth that way. I haven't ... since ...

2026-04-10

Next court date: April 22, 2026 at 9am rm 103.

I am not military nor a public employee... never have been and definitely, now, never will be. TELL THE MILITARY TO UNTUCK THEIR DICKS AND STOP THIS SHIT. I'm actively being tortured... no lie or exaggeration... beginning it seems when my bicycle accident happened in 2012.

Still homeless, still tortured, still no idea why, and done with life... for realz, no returns on this fucking life. Great job, Canada and the US of assholes.... great fucking job. WHY did you do this to me?????????? You owe me a lethal bullet in the head, you faggots.

2026-03-23

2026-03-08 (Part 2)

2026-03-08

I have not really tried SSH tunnelling out of this virtual hell both assuming it impossible and also a potential risk in this context. I'm also insulted to the core, and it has and continues to prevent any desire to. My macbook when living with my fake ex "John" was mysteriously "infected" with malware (probably just installed when I was asleep) and I didn't even bother attempting that rabbit hole given the Anonymous mask John had in his so-called server room. At the time, I didn't even know if it was designed to assist me in some unknown way or not. (Given that I'm once again homeless... clearly not. Perhaps the fake security "expert" from Tutela that keeps popping up in a gay cowboy hat and a streaker's trench coat could shed some light... fuck you too, buddy.)

After my botched knee surgeries, I was initially simply understandably sad, but, I was solid with my commitment to physical rehab and carrying on with work life and, after recovering the spent savings for my trip to NZ, I was still intent on using the visa I already had in my possession. Everything changed when my therapist (my friend Sandra Anderson from NYC put me up to seeing a therapist after the surgeries, and this guy was basically the first google hit I got) started acting weird, negligent, and I came to appreciate the botched surgeries may have not been innocent mistakes but intentional acts of sabotage. I wanted to kill my plastic surgeon that was forcing me to wait two years to complete the cosmetic aspects, and I got a gun license while contemplating it. I didn't know at the time that what propelled my continued interest in killing him was drugs I was dosed with unknowingly on a daily basis, both while living with my mother and while living with my roommate Corey B in a basement suite a few blocks away.

I was still seeing my fake therapist when I booked a vacation to Kuwai, Hawaii to mentally try to chill the fuck out (and attempt quitting smoking the cigarettes I didn't know were laced with extra addictive substances). Prior to that, I had attempted a getaway to visit and stay with Sandra in NYC, but completely out of the character I knew her for, she lost her shit for completely insane reasons at me with the backstory of being fired from her employer. I was forced to head back to Victoria earlier than planned because she was acting so nuts and getting mad at me for it. (It does somewhat parallel what happened when my mom came to visit me in Halifax when I was convocating from uni and lost her shit at me for a stupid reason, but of course I had no idea the two incidents were in any way designed to parallel one another.)

My employment experiences after my surgeries were absurd. My old contract employer I had prior to my accident forced me to quit during recovery when he forced me to work from home without the company providing me with the necessary network access to work effectively. When I returned to the office after supposed full recovery, he turned into a crazy monster of sorts that I tried to reconcile with through conversation, but he eventually acted so crazy he forced me to quit. This paved the way for my "friend" Will to help me get a job with a new office in town (their base was supposedly in NYC). They paid me 6 figures... way more than any previous job... for about 6 months before another set of absurd events caused me to seek legal council and accept settlement money ($18,000... yes, it's insane) in exchange for my departure from the position.

After that, everyone around me seemed to start behaving like psychos, and both my mother that I lived with and my brother that I called from a homeless shelter some time later seemed complicit so I assumed the answers would come....

I booked a second trip back to Kuwai, Hawaii with the intent to "return to the scene of the crime" or "last known good". It was pointless except to note that now, everyone there was acting nuts around me. I was still intent on figuring this shit out, so I booked further pointless trips to Boston (to see MIT and Harvard ... thinking back to a prof I worked with at UVic, Yvonne Coady..) and Pittsburgh (to check out Carnegie Melon). My bullshit settlement money was now gone, and all I got from the trips was a bunch of crazy people acting insane and a nice self-guided tour of the MIT campus, Harvard, and Carnegie Melon.

When I got back, my mother was acting weird and there was a letter on the wall supposedly from my brother calling my mom awesome... She was never awesome, so yes, it raised a flag in my head.

The cigarettes my mother was feeding me at home got me crazy extra addicted, but I still thought it was the post-op anxiety and feelings of complete hate towards my surgeons driving that. When my mother one day refused me more cigarettes, I became furious thinking she must know something about my post-op sabotaged employment and wasted trips given her included crazy behaviour. For a second or two out of rage I had my hands around her neck before I released realizing this was insane. She was not physically injured in any way, but obviously this was totally abnormal behaviour. She called the fake cops that subsequently made me homeless and without access to my personal belongings at home (my mother refused me any access for unknown reasons).

My back was assaulted while chloroformed on a church hall floor near Our Place, a chiropractor then broke my neck, and the rest is a long list (partially outlined in another post) of assaults lasting now 13 years.

I can never work again, and no, in the midst of this medical chaos I was not interested in going to Silicon Valley to explore the source of my first wrongful firing of my career. I was supposed to be in NZ with my ex, Wes, and after he split with me (unknown reasons but probably related to his perception of events when I went on a cycling tour to Jasper with a different guy named Rob.. no idea how that is relevant or related, though obviously it may be somehow...). I was still absolutely intent on going to NZ both after that split with my ex and after my knee surgeries just as soon as I got my bank account balance back up. (The employment and residence turmoil obviously made that impossible or, to me, inadvisable at least as I had no idea what the hell was going on. Oh yeah and by the way... 13 years later and the complete destruction of my entire life later... I still have no clue... no fucking clue why I am still being tortured and am homeless AGAIN.)

Why is no one saying anything informative to help me, or asking me ANY questions about my experience that seems intelligent? No idea.

Why am I not going to another city or country? Because I have been to other provinces and other countries in the past 13 years and this bullshit simply seems to follow me to make every experience totally horseshit. I don't know why my fake ex "John" called me an asshole one day out of the blue, and I don't know why anyone I seem to tolerate as a fake friend for a bit winds up turning into a complete asshole... (but it does seem to parallel my past departure from my high school friend group instigated by a penis brain named Allison. That event was as unexpected as it was totally seemingly insane and out of character, and I couldn't understand how my friends could possibly be so stupid; I walked away after expressing VERY clearly the nature of my anger/frustration that they refused to properly acknowledge.)

2026-03-06

Former Software developer unemployed for a long time now but I don't know why.

Born July 3, 1981 at 11:35am. I have zero children, and I am not responsible for yours. Anyone implying different is lying. My mother was the coward cow, not me.

Email: jennifer.v.murdoch@gmail.com

(I usually use this for electronic funds transfer.. but who knows how this works now... I just know I have not enough money for food and beer and my balance and statements keep getting altered.)

Phone: (778) 678-6978 with Telus

Mother: Oril May Ryder born July 6, ??? , former nurse. Social isolation made her one of the dumbest humans on Earth. She's stupid, not retarded.

Father: Bruce [no middle name due to family tradition] Murdoch. Former officer in the navy. No idea about his birthdate but I think February?? Died on some day when I was two years old, supposedly from a heart attack while at home.

Brother: Andrew Colin [mother broke family tradition cuz she wanted him to have another name] Murdoch. September 5 (1972 I think... making him, yes, 9 years older than me). Married a woman named Suzanne, but that's her middle name supposedly and her birth first name is Jennifer... making her Jennifer Murdoch as well. No resemblance... she's short, fat, and has longer very curly brown hair... used to be a medical office assistant... supposedly. Fake identity altogether? Who knows, because I don't. My brother used to joke about killing his sister when we were both kids living at home. We moved out the same summer in 1999 when he got married and moved to Vancouver and I moved to Halifax to begin university.

Why do I think my aunt (on my dad's side) didn't die when I attended her funeral years ago on the mainland??

Brief history:

Attended private school (Glenlyon-Norfolk School) but at the time, like many of my classmates I expect, I would have rather gone to public school. I had terrible healthcare and parenting related issues in my younger years that I am under no obligation to discuss here further if you are not already at least partially informed about them by criminals. (When all this bullshit started and I was trying to figure it out, I wrote a police report about it at the VicPD station.) I went to Dalhousie University to pursue an immunology degree in 1999 that I switched out of for an almost straight A computer science degree I LOVED. I completed my masters-level coursework at the University of Victoria, but for whatever reason my supervisor was less than superb as a supervisor even though I didn't think he was a bad lecturer. Sadly, after 3 years, I left without my M.Sc.(didn't have a thesis I wanted to write) to work in industry. The jobs I took here in Victoria were disasters for reasons I don't understand; obviously sabotage is at play but I do not know who or why I could have been targeted. The lawyers I contacted (on Herald St and others) after my first wrongful dismissal rejected my request for help. Again, I don't know why. But immediately prior to my dismissal, I was googling from on site at Stanford university's Canary Foundation lab regarding symptoms I was experiencing that seemed to come from a drug I was certainly not taking by choice. That was 2010.

Fast forward to 2012. I went on a cycling trip to Galiano Island with a so-called “friend" named Rob King. A combination of a faulty hand brake on my bike, inadequate tire grip, and too much speed led to an accident; I hit a concrete barrier with my left knee going 70kph down a hill when I lost control. My multiple surgeries were nightmares, but in 2013, I was ready to carry on in better shape than ever after extended rehab. It wasn't until later I recognized that the botched surgeries were not just accidental, but actually planned intentional assaults. Sounds crazy? Of course it's fucking crazy. And of course I have no proof. Later, I was heavily drugged without consent or even full immediate knowledge living with a guy named Corey Burger in a basement suite in Oak Bay probably taken over by cops of one form or another. I moved from that basement apartment to one on Fort St, then back home with mom after another wrongful dismissal from a probably fraud company called White Ops operating a local office from the BC Ferries building (home office was supposedly NYC).

When I asked the military for paperwork about my father in early 2015 after this BS began and I was still attempting to figure out what it was (I still don't know), I received an envelope back completely full of bullshit. I threw it out because obviously I was pissed about it as anyone with a dead military dad would be. (For example, I do not believe he was taking therapeutic Lithium...)

Here is what I experienced over the past 13 years since my partially-contrived (I can only assume) cycling accident and intentionally botched patellectomy:

• Physical and emotional abuse, assault, and torture for 13 years.
• My neck was intentionally broken by a set of chiropractors at the homeless shelter on Pandora St back in 2015 approximately after someone kicked by lower back while sleeping at a church hall emergency shelter that was bullshit. (Very odd "earthquake" there one evening as well.)
• A TON of medical and electronic hardware in my body (maybe triggered by the cell phones of individuals around me????)
• Mild brain damage unconfirmed but seems legit and noticeable.
• A LOT of radiation exposure from various apartment ceilings and devices.
• Knee, both feet/ankles, back and neck have been broken at various points in time
• Multiple completely unsolicited vag surgeries while "chloroformed" when I should have been naturally sleeping in the apartment I rented at the time
• Getting gassed with unknown gasses is super fun... pepper spray, and who knows what else that makes it hard or impossible to breath normally for short periods of time... And whatever gas or brain implant keeps me asleep long enough to rape me most nights lately.
• No reliable blood test results, but tampons usually get bloody from the inside out... not waking up to it the other way around. Various other abuse and procedures likely whilst unconscious unnaturally (I am usually a VERY light sleeper).
• No access to health care or police.
• Somehow my toes have been completely reshaped, and I have my mother's broken fingernail that won't grow back properly
• I can never work again despite my credentials and experience in the software industry; my body now has transmitters I cannot control or reliably have removed which I only came to realize after being humiliated at several fake software jobs in town. I refuse to TSA scan myself every morning for the rest of my existence, thank you very much.....
• The Bay centre on Douglas Street in Victoria has a lot of assholes sitting in the food court lately. I have never met or spoken with any of them and no one is telling me anything. There is A LOT of vacancy in the building including the Bay department store vacating. I promise I know NOTHING about any of it for 13 years now, but there was a chick named Becky pan handling outside and a guy named Doug distributing fliers. I have some copies he gave me today but i haven't read them yet.
• I have no children, though I imagined adopting at a point far younger than I am now (I am now 44, and I was 31 when my cycling accident occured) after hopefully getting married which is now impossible. I can never work again, I don't feel right about dating with no career and source of income, and my mother and brother are lying assholes about at least some apparently significant things of which I know nothing about... I am not close with my family, but didn't think I had made enemies of any of them either.
• I do not know any hard facts about my mother's existence after having me thrown to the street 13 years ago after rehabilitating post knee surgery when i was "saving money" to move to New Zealand for a few years to work elsewhere in tech or software. I was tossed to the street by "fake" cops that may or may not have known that I was heavily drugged by substances I didn't know I was taking. I still don't know what it was, but it produced completely debilitating amounts of anxiety apparent to friends and new coworkers. My mother was feeding me cigarettes full of this crap and I didn't realise it at the time, but then a small altercation caused her to call the cops and have me removed in the middle of the night.
• I DID NOT BREAK MY MOTHER'S NECK !!!! Something happened to her at a first yoga class she ever attended at Oak Bay Rec. I was in the gym but not in the room with her when it happened. I DO NOT HURT PEOPLE (under undrugged normal circumstances) AND I DON'T KNOW HOW OR WHY THIS HAPPENED. Maybe she blamed me and thought I knew?!?! I fucking know nothing about it... 100% truth.
• I had a great time getting urinated on while I slept at my ex-unofficial-roommate's place in Esquimalt where I slept on an air mattress on the living room floor since September until I was thrown onto the street (yet again!!!!) by people wearing cop uniforms.
• My roommates and fake "exes" over the past 13 years were assholes but I hope none are unsafe or have a broken neck today.... No one should go through this shit. (But who do they and every other liar from the last 13 years work for? Who pays these fuckers? Fake work credentials communicated to me in some or all cases. What the fuck is this 13 years of bullshit!?)
• Likely completely fake tech companies in town have employed me, found reason to fire me wrongfully, then stop communicating with me.
• Every single person that 13 years ago I would have called a friend ditched me within months of this crap starting. I have been without any authentic friend since... To say I am socially isolated is an extreme understatement. If I talk to you, it is because I need to talk to someone but do not be mistaken... I would rather not fucking talking to any of you pricks acting like idiots for whatever reason you have chosen to behave that way.

Any questions? Probably not all the relevant details are here from 13 years of torture and I have no idea what it is or why I have been dealing with it for 13 years..... I hope Obama, who may be in town, closed down Gitmo successfully.... And I never have to hear about US politics again.

---

What's the point of living if you can't trust (even your own body) ever again?

And what's the point of trusting if you know you have nothing recoverable to live for...

I can never work, can never date or marry, and I would never live with a regime of TSA scanning myself every morning I wake up wondering what happened during the previous night of supposed sleep.

---

What does Jen know from interactions with family members specifically since 2012? Nothing.

2012-2014 recovering from multiple knee surgeries living with my mother. I originally gave up my downtown studio apartment to move in and save money for my trip to New Zealand for which I already had my work visa and motorcycle license ready. I don't know what she does know or what she doesn't and quite frankly, why SHOULD I give a fuck? My life is not a game.

Tried reconnecting over a chat at Willows beach on one occasion and every word from her mouth was a lie about family members. Tried to endure that bullshit again over lunch at Pennyfarthing pub and over coffee at Bard and Banker with her. Finally couldn't muster the energy to even sit down at the table with her when we arranged to meet at Romeo's in Royal Oak. We had a few VERY brief phone conversations since then filled with implicit insults from her and explicit ones from me. Fuck. This. Shit. And. Her.

My brother, like my mother, told me in 2015 via phone call to go to the hospital with no indication as to why. I went. I went to Royal Jubilee, Vic General, the Children's Hospital in Van, Vancouver General, and one in Calgary. The only result was fake x-ray results coming back as "Nothing wrong with my [broken] neck and lower back", removing my nipple piercings that I am FURIOUS I lost, and visiting a gyno in Calgary that I have no idea what got stuffed where during that visit.

I have seen my bro around Victoria a few times, and calling his wife several times to finally reach my bro resulted in just a bullshit phone call of 5 minutes before I hung up. Hope Fandom.ca is getting all the attention it deserves, asshole... As children, my bro joked about one day killing his sister, me, but I never thought much of it as it was a joke. We spoke little after he got married in '99 and I went to university, but I did not think we were on bad terms... Is he responsible/connected? Dunno... easy scapegoat, but he could be 100% innocent or 100% guilty. He used to be a casino blackjack dealer... don't know today what he is doing.

So to all the old hags around assuming I never tried to help or "remedy" my mother's pathetic life and mental state... fuck a dog and shove its privates in your husband's face as relief from yours.... I did try... a lot... but now, my mother is your problem, not mine, and my life is officially over. The final straw (no pun intended) was the unsolicited vag surgeries while I was chloroformed and the fact I can NEVER work again. My life is over assholes. Get over your egos and kill me like you actually give a shit about my distress and suffering.

2026-02-12

I am alive. I don't want to be. If I call you fat, ugly, annoying.... there is a 50/50 chance I truly mean it. Fuck off.

In the fall of 2012 I had a bicycle accident and some highly suspect knee surgeries following. My life has been a disaster since, and no one will let me in on the secret. If you believe I know what's been happening, I don't. I don't have kids. I haven't done anything wrong. Why do I have a microphone up my asshole, and seemingly I can never work again as a result? I used to be a software developer with a comp sci degree; now, I can't work in even a grocery store. Why? Someone knows, but I do not.

I have not worked in 4 years (while all my software-related jobs since 2012 have been manufactured fraud positions that have insulted me to the core), and I am currently homeless sleeping more-or-less in stairwells on the floor. My back hurts, my neck hurts, and my elbows hurt A LOT from lugging my shit around with me. People sabotage my shit all the time, so any rational solution to carrying this stuff around with me (like leaving it at a hotel) isn't the option it would be normally.

Why is everyone acting like an idiot, an asshole, or both? I don't know, but I hope you go to hell for it just as soon as someone finally kills me with the $1 bullet they owe me. Idiots, assholes, and also cowards... all of you. I used to want to know why.