Today's story is a long one. It is a good idea to be acquainted with my earlier analysis on dissociation, as well as the follow-up documents I sent to my GP. See the preceding blog posts for these.
Lately things at my GP's office have been going a bit difficult, such as them not preparing referral letters. When I talked with my GP about getting an appointment at the local hospital she said she'd call me once she knew more.Yesterday I learned that she had made an appointment by about the next day. On Thursday however I still hadn't heard anything from her, so I went to the GP's office to ask whether she had already done about about setting up that appointment. The assistant said my GP would call me later that afternoon.
Half an hour before the GP's office closed and with no phone call yet my mother and I decided to go there to ask what was going on. I think I may have taken some passion flower extract-based pills earlier that day, but I can not recall for sure. Looking back I'm fairly sure that I started off that Thursday with one of my DIS fragment personalities already worming its way into control.
Anyway, my mother and I walk up to the front desk at the GP's office and my mother asks about that phone call and whether we can talk to a doctor. Later my mother told me that I volunteered some background information, to which the assistant replied with something along the lines of that she didn't know about that stuff since she wasn't a doctor. I figure that was the final trigger, possibly enhanced by those passion flower pills, which made me quite agitated that one time I took them before and got exposed to stressful triggers.
I remember only flashes of what happened next. Me trying to pull out the sliding glass dividers of the front desk. My right hand moving to crush a glass vase or vases to my left, on the desk. The realization from my real personality which had been shoved to the back of my mind that I was hitting glass and that I probably just had badly injured myself. There was no stopping, though.
Initial damage count was those glass vases or vase, some plant thing shoved around a bit, a sign knocked over to a 45 degrees angle and the glass top of a model thing there in the lobby. Oh, and one decorative vase.
It was at that point that I finally bothered to look at my right hand noticed it being covered with blood, as well as the floor being covered with it. I regained enough control to sit there, leaning against a side rail, next to a puddle of my own blood while holding my hand up high so as to decrease the bleeding. My mother pressed a tissue against my bleeding hand. She was expecting the GP assistants and/or a doctor to run out to help, but instead they had totally locked down the place.
After what seemed like an eternity two police agents came, who started talking with a male GP. After a few moments they moved away to talk privately. Feeling that something bad was going to happen to me again there was one more violent surge from the fragment personality when I got up, tore down a glass display case and exited the building. I was walking there slowly when suddenly I heard running behind me and I was painfully grabbed and smacked into the side of the building. Lots of yelling about spreading my legs. They wanted to put hand cuffs on me. It didn't seem to work. I got pushed onto the ground rather painfully. The cuffs were put on really tightly. I screamed in pain and begged them to loosen them. They told me to shut up.
They told me to stand up and walk, but the pain was so intense from those cuffs that I nearly blacked out, so they dragged me to their patrol car. They tore part of my clothing in the process. I was put in the rear seat, with a female agent holding my neck and smacking me into the side door every time I begged her to loosen the cuffs while they drove me to the police station here in Rijssen.
There I got dragged out of the car again, into some kind of room, got stripped of my bag, jacket and shoes and then thrown back into the car again. This time lying down while the agent was sitting on me. After what seemed like an eternity of agony we arrived at the police station in Borne. There I did manage to walk on my own, to prevent more agony. I got pushed into a cell, forced onto my knees and got stripped down to my panties and socks. I was so shocked and traumatized by then that I was totally dazed.
So when they asked me to cooperate to put on the prison garment I didn't respond within the ten milliseconds you are given to answer to each order and was thrown onto the bench slash bed and left lying there mostly naked for a while. It was cold there and I was shivering. I wasn't feeling too upset yet, mostly dazed still.
After a while a doctor came in to look at my hand, they put on the prison garment, a kind of bag you'd use for potatoes, and I was told that I'd be taken to the hospital to check for glass splinters in my hand. I was taken there in a police van used to transporting criminals. They didn't find any glass splinters at the hospital. I got driven back and was told to sleep. I refused dinner. They had TV there, four channels. It eased the pain a bit. I heard I was charged with destruction of property.
I couldn't sleep at all, curled up in a make-shift bed on the floor in the end and dozed off a bit when the doctor came in again. I had been screaming and crying a lot, he said, scaring the guards. I pointed out that my hand was bleeding again. He took me to his office, I got a bandaid for it. I asked whether I could go the toilet at the other side of the hallway, but one of the guards told me to use the toilet in my cell. It was humiliating.
The rest of the night I spent watching TV, tearing a roll of toilet paper to pieces and finally dozed off for a bit. I refused breakfast and tried watching TV while screaming and crying every once in a while. It was like the walls were closing in on me. I'm not claustrophobic, but the sensation of being there in a cell, with nothing to do, nothing to decide, nothing to live or exist for except for that one moment when the cell door or the little hatch in it opens... it's the perfect definition of Hell as far as I'm concerned.
I must have pressed the intercom button at least a dozen times. Begging to help me each time as I was going crazy and was getting urges to hurt myself. They said they were looking at my case at the station here in Rijssen and that they'd be here soon. Soon meant another few hours.
I got my hormone pills, well, they gave me the whole Cyproteron pill while I only take half a day, and one Progynova, refusing to give all three at once. I also got the Xanax sedative, but I doubt it did anything in that situation. I tried to get out of the cell once, begging them to let me go and walking up to them. They threw me back into the cell with enough force for me to hit my head against the wall.
Then things finally started moving somewhat... I put together an official statement with two higher-ranking police personnel from the Rijssen station which was the first relaxing moment since I got detained, as they were friendly and understanding. After that I talked to some people from Dimence, basically the crisis center I talked about before. There were a couple of familiar faces. They apparently had accepted my dissociation explanation and agreed with the need for medical help in my intersex case, as did the police officers I talked to earlier, by the way.
Then those Dimence peopled wanted to talk in private and the agents there wanted to put me back into my cell. I nearly went crazy at the thought and begged them to not put me back. They dragged me along anyway until I froze meters in front of the cell. One agent then suggested to put me in the airing room, where inmates can get some fresh air. I agreed to this. It was my first breath of fresh air in about 12 hours by then.
After a while I talked to someone from a kind of reintegration service, or 'reclassering' as it's called here. The woman I talked to was very kind and understanding and told me to call her as soon as I got out. I said I would. I also said that I hoped that they wouldn't force me to stay in the cell for another night as that would probably kill me. She comforted me while I cried some more. She also told me to drink something as I looked horrible, but I said I wouldn't eat or drink until I got out.
After that they dragged me off to my cell again. I tried to run away, but they grabbed me and threw me back into the cell. There I once again went pretty much into shock again. I did try watching some Discovery Channel to distract me, which helped a bit. After a while they let me air some more. I had a chat with the people from Dimence, who said they'd like to see me on Monday to discuss the psychological help part. They could not tell me when the Justice Department would get back to me on my case. An agent said that it'd definitely be before 6 PM, however.
So I sat there waiting and crying occasionally. Listening to the birds and traffic sounds, while sunlight filtered through the grid fixed between the walls. After a few eons and assorted eternities an agent opened the door and just said 'Good news.'. I was free.
They had me clean up my cell before I was taken to the room where they kept my belongings. We had a bit of fun trying to make one of the zippers on my boots working as a bit of latex glove had become stuck in it. We also joked about men not being able to properly take off a woman's boot as they a belt had been detached which isn't necessary to touch at all. I then told them that I would gladly never see them again. We all had a bit of a laugh there, I guess. Prison humour.
I was then taken home by those two Rijssen police officers. Once home I heard that my mother had immediately gone to the police station here in Rijssen to have her statement taken. She also went to the station in Borne, but was told that she could not see me. She had taken a big bag of things along for me, including a book to read, chocolate, a plushie, a toothbrush and so on. I had never been given any of these items except for the medication.
As I'm only charged with destruction of property the case will be closed as soon as the damages have been paid. The exact amount of damage I'll have to pay will have to be determined by the Justice Department. They have both sides of the story and they will decide on where the balance lies.
Meanwhile I'm noticing that aside from being overjoyed at being home and free again, the whole experience has left an incredibly mark on me, both physically and psychologically. On a scale of 1-10 where 10 is most traumatizing, I'd rate this event a 9.5. Physically I am covered with bruises. My wrists are agony city as I can't even touch them without flinching in pain. I limp while walking because my right knee has been hurt very badly.
See the attached photos for an idea of the visible bruises. Note that I do not bruise easily and that for example the swelling on my head is not visible, nor those on my back and some other places.
Naturally I won't be seeing my current GP any more. They say they are 'afraid' of me. If they had listened to the warnings I had sent them, none of this would have happened. Life is a bloody tragedy.
Maya
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