Where Did the Monarch's, Go?

Recently, I stopped my life activity and searched for a counselor. It's not for me, but to relate information to a professional to get feedback from a trained therapist. I had better things to do. Two, under the age of five, grandsons. A law school test to study for. Find sufficient full-time employment. Also, I have the same life desires as every other adult who's over the age of fifty.
I've spoken over the years to several mental health professionals, hoping to expose the background of a stalker who delivers a life altering plan on a daily and random basis. The smartest thing I do is write specific things down. Perhaps the woman next door stepped outside when I did. She does that frequently. Never after I have exited the front door, but at the same time. Then she turns around and bends over. A few weeks ago, her grandson visited with me. He's in his late thirties. Not someone I interact with regularly, but he's managed to state astounding things to me. More recently was the visit on about two weeks prior. He said, "You're not ready yet." I'm supposed to be bothered? I'm not sure how to respond; I say nothing further about his statement. Because I will receive this. "You're overthinking this."
I've grown accustomed to those type of sly insults. Overthinking what?
I'm the one who is out seeking help for something actively being done to me. While the real perpetrator is probably enjoying life on an exotic patio. I have been asked, "Who do you think it is?" by relatives, law enforcement. I do not know who it is. I have a small circle. No one I know has the financial means or is ignorant enough to subject anyone to long-term abuse.
This is my story.