So a couple of hours ago there was a *BANG BANG BANG BANG* on the door, and these big guys with big guns in their holsters (interpret that however you like) wanted to talk to me.
I immediately went into "scared and compliant" mode so fast that one of the officers complimented me on how polite I was.
They wanted to step inside. "If you must."
They wanted me to step outside. "If I must."
They wanted to see what calls I had made on my cellphone. "Okay."
They talked to me and rev_yurodivy separately and wrote down some notes. I was shaking the entire time (another thing one of them noticed). I didn't stop shaking for hours afterward.
The first thing I did when they left was crawl in bed and go catatonic, shaking so hard it was like having a seizure. Thinking, over and over again, "this is how society treats a person like me. This is how society treats a person like me. This is how society treats a person like me."
Someone had called the police, and had told them I was posting things on the internet that showed an intent to self-harm.
Just now, my aunt called and told me who'd done it.
They won't apologize for anything they've done to screw my life up. They've made zero restitution for turning me into a wreck and a shell. But they'll stalk my journal, and send literal men with guns to drag a PTSD victim out of her apartment and interrogate her in broad daylight, because that is the best thing to do when your daughter is suicidal.
Not call and apologize to her. Not say "I'm sorry I treated you like shit, hate me if you have to but go on living! You are more important to me than my ego is!" Just call and tell the police they need to go talk to this person, which in no way resembles punishment or intimidation and could in no way be construed as a threat along the lines of "if you ever talk about how much you hurt again I will lock you away forever."
I'm so angry right now that if I could harness it into a ki blast I'd blow up the fucking moon. (Sorry, aliaspseudonym, we'll just have to buy you a new one.)
What angers me more than that is the thought that they have been reading my journal this whole time, and using it for narcissistic supply. My mother of origin's been crying her face off sharing every damn entry with everyone, going on about how "he hates me! he doesn't even consider me his mother anymore!" Well, damn, woman, I wonder why that is!?
I hurt so badly I wish I had killed myself. I wish I were brave enough to. But I'm not.
Just like I wasn't the day that my father of origin threw me out of his house, for throwing down the knife I was going to kill myself with. Which is the last time I couldn't stop shaking like this.