April 18, 2025
I keep having some mild trauma responses to sirens that come close late at night. I am having a hard time relaxing before bed, as I fear I will be unexpectedly woken up at 2:30 in the morning again with 5 police officers in my room with a flashlight in my face, my name being yelled over and over again. This happened after I had a pretty bad manic episode, and after beginning to reregulate myself and coming down from the highest point of the episode, exhausted fell asleep hard. Planning on waking up in the morning to begin processing with my parents what had happened.
I keep having spikes of fear that it will happen again, and every time I try to sleep, I have the fear. Being placed in handcuffs at 3 am and put in the back of a police car. Given the false idea that no one would be called. My stomach hurts thinking about it. I hope it goes away and I don't have to think about it much longer. I would have appreciated a heads up if the deciosin was changed to call someone, I would have felt less of a need to immediately get the fuck out of the situation and possibly even considered going to in or out patient to be safe. But I wasn’t given the heads up, I didn’t have time to prep things for my cat to be okay without me. I did not have time to prep myself. So, there i was being asked the same questions I hear every week: “are you having thoughts of hurting yourself?” “no.” I answer with a dead stare at the interrogator. They ask: “are you having thoughts of hurting anyone else?” “no.” I answer again. These types of questions continue as I lie through my teeth, knowing the only way home is to say anything but the truth.
The truth is, yes, I did want to harm myself, I wanted to throw myself into traffic, I wanted to be anywhere but in my brain and in my body. I wanted to punish myself for the pain I caused others. I wanted to bleed to prove my worth. I wanted to take myself out of the situation I was so unfortunately the perpetrator of. I wanted to be anyone else. I wanted to undo everything. I had the thought that if I were gone, she would be happier, satisfied with my disappearance and absence in her life, while I would benefit from not having to be in anyone's at all. This includes my own.
Click here to see a test thingy i did to reinact
But what would happen if I said that? Well, I can tell you what. My phone and everything else would be taken away from me. They would make me take my jewelry out (like they did when they questioned me), they would give me stretchy grippy socks, they would take my vitals, take my blood, and I would be thrown into the adult ward. I would be given one call a day, for 20 minutes. I would have a room with unbearable mattresses, an intercom next to my headrest, and a camera seeing all corners of the space I am confined in. I would have to silently cry myself to sleep in some comforting attempt to make things tolerable. They would poke and prod me, ask me questions, and a prison-type schedule to follow. I would be in the same proximity of others with similar mindsets, wishing they had bit their tongue, or successfully executed their plan. Depressing to see them, gloomily around, face blank, eyes heavy.
I would be stuck there for a week, they would ask me more questions, make me stay another week, put me into outpatient, taking up half my day. I would not make the grave mistake of getting anyone's contact. The last time I did that, I had a stalker for the next 4 years. Then I would leave. Returning to “normal” life, people would ask, “Where were you?” I would say, “on an involuntary trip,” or “medical issues,” and they would ask no more. I would not talk about what happened, embarrassed to relive the experiences.
efdfsdfwefw