LOL, I have been to jail and back; I have been to hell and back.
Lord, I am honored that you find me as a good teacher to get those that have strayed away back on their right tracks, but man, you gotta get rid of my rages a lot!!!!
Thank/fuck you very much, UTB (Unhonorable Thomas Boyd)!
I am very impressed by my lowered tolerance to weed after jail; with flashbacks, seizures, and bruises all over my body all day, all night, every day for two full days. Thanks, Boyd! 😄
Even more complex PTSD now!! Yay!!
Con: New PTSD trauma; literally thought I was dying in jail without being medicated because I was falling and banging my head straight to the ground, with only sometimes my guardian angels hurrying my hands to those parts of my head.
This Sheriff literally told me she wanted to kill me (because of how belligerent I was, and I was only like that because she was completely and purposefully ignoring me every polite chance I gave her when needing emergency medical assistance). I wanted her to..., and she loved to keep me in agony, so she kept me 13 hours past the judge’s instructions while mocking my symptoms as if they were fake and laughing about them, meanwhile talking shit about me with her people on her phone, watching Key and Peele videos, Facebook stalking people and sharing with her friend some shit she has more access to as a detective; Amazon shopping for either a hydrator or a bong—I could’ve sworn she went out into her car a couple times during her shift to do some coke in her car because I saw her get in the car and stay for a couple minutes on the security cam and then come back a bit fucked up—I don't know what else she might have in that bigass jug of water bottle of hers. She probably had some alcohol in her coffee she brought to work when there's freely warmed coffee with a coffee pot right in her office; violating my rights and keeping me locked in as she pretended like she couldn't hear me when I was using my drum major voice (I can project two football fields down. I trained to become a drum major for three years straight, and I told her this with that voice). And she told me she could hear it, making a mockery out of my symptoms of involuntary movements (to the extent of grand mal seizures) and dry heaving, just fucking around on the job, not doing her job.
Boy, did I cuss the fuck out of that girl. Fucking shitnut!?
This bitch needs to get fired right the fuck now.
She left her fucking shift, and it took the next person taking the shift picking her shit up and deleting a bunch of shit on my file that just made me look more unstable than I actually was for my release from jail.
That was the 13th hour, past the Judge's instructions of when I must be released from jail given my PTSD triggers, severity, and symptoms.
My past PTSD from cops helped out.
Pro: Met one (very) good cop.
Things are looking high! 😉
Update on my life after jail and the new PTSD trauma:
I have tried to sleep with the new PTSD after jail, with my normal medications. I have been kept/woken up with flashbacks, especially of the things the bitch sheriff said.
Accepting my Fate:
This is how I die; from PTSD that just keeps getting more complex, with severities of symptoms growing worse. Okay. I guess that’s God’s way of serving justice to those that caused my complex PTSD traumas.
I will laugh my ass off the day/night Nighthawk comes to check for an intent of redistribution of drugs, only to find my assorted colored beads, just because my Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) needed to kick in when I was doing a craft! Tehehehehee, I knew these things would come in handy in one way or another.