29 December 2024 — 11.45pm

“I don’t want to be labelled as resilient or strong, nor do I want to bear the weight of those expectations. I simply want to be myself — to live freely, unshackled by the burdens of the past and the control others seek to impose on my future.”

I finally managed to get up off the floor. Shaking and crying. Feeling the weight of everything that had happened.

The emotional turmoil had been overwhelming. I took a deep breath, trying to regain some control.

Just when I thought I might find a moment of peace, there was an unexpected knock at the door.

At first, I hesitated. Thought it might be another delivery — so many Temu orders arriving before Christmas.

But the uncertainty had me on edge. I always check through the peephole now. It was dark outside. Impossible to see who was there.

After a moment of internal debate, I opened the door just a crack.

Standing there was a police officer.

My heart sank.

When Police Arrive at Your Door

I could barely form words. The panic rose within me.

The officer asked about CCTV footage and mentioned a crash. A wave of anxiety washed over me.

This CCTV had been installed to protect my children and me — a safeguard in a year already riddled with trauma. Yet the very presence of police — an authority I’d come to associate with harm rather than safety — sent me spiralling.

I struggled to speak. My voice stuttered through my response. I managed to tell him I had PTSD linked to my experiences with the police. And still, at that moment, I found myself apologising.

Sorry for my condition.

Sorry that I couldn’t help.

Why was I saying sorry?

I didn’t recognise this officer. Yet here I was, feeling the need to explain my pain and fear, as if I owed him an apology for the damage done to my neuroplasticity by a colleague from the same station.

The Panic Attack

When I finally closed the door, I sank to my knees.

Gasping. The tears released. The shaking returned. The familiar onset of a panic attack.

It was as if my body was trying to process a flood of emotions that had been building for over a year.

Once I managed to settle, I sat on the floor and let my thoughts swirl. I knew I had to articulate what had just happened. It was all I had left after a year of feeling trapped in my own mind.

Why I Keep Speaking Out

I realise the importance of speaking out.

My experiences are valid. Sharing them is a crucial step towards healing.

I still have a long way to go. But acknowledging my feelings and confronting the past is a step in the right direction. The journey to reclaim my voice and my peace is fraught with challenges. I know that.

But each moment of honesty brings me closer to understanding. Closer to healing.

The Ongoing Corruption

Then I sat down to work on my website. A million thoughts racing through my mind.

I needed answers about how information had been leaked to my ex. How he’d been able to provide specifics to his barrister that falsely represented witness statements I knew to be factually inaccurate.

How had he always been a step ahead?

It doesn’t take much to connect the dots. But with everything else going on, it’s no surprise there’s more corruption.

After being given the details of two other officers to contact, I couldn’t face it.

I was already on my knees answering the door to a police officer about the CCTV. When I checked — the bloody CCTV wasn’t even plugged in.

Due to the haunting memories, I had to move out of the main bedroom where it’s located.

The teenager clearly thought the Xbox was a priority.

I’ve been awake all night, running through it all.

I Just Want My Life Back

I haven’t felt such intense trauma for a long time.

I did ring the CMHT line to talk it through.

I just want my life back.

I don’t want to fear the police. I don’t want to spend nights on end reading guidance — hoping it will prevent situations like this from happening to others.

The police haven’t adhered to anything with me and my children.

If I were to contact them now, I would not want to relive what I’ve been through with officers 20 and 21.

I just want to live my life again. Free from control.

I know that sharing my story is just one piece of that puzzle.

If you’ve experienced something similar — know that you’re not alone. And it’s okay to seek help.