Content warning: References to domestic violence, police brutality, sexual assault, drinking, racism and involuntary sectioning in a psychiatric ward. I have relied on the police at times. After another incident regarding the same boyfriend I thought he had found me after I moved , I rang the police, fearing for my safety.
I had a history of mental illness. Maybe they thought I was just a madwoman being paranoid. Whatever their reason, it made me feel like I had no rights and that I could not rely on them to protect me. Sometime later, after a stay in a psychiatric ward, I moved into a nightmare of a share-house. One morning, I rang to cancel a psychiatry appointment I had cold symptoms not aware that this would trigger a call to the CATT crisis assessment and treatment team. I was relaxing in my room when they arrived and became annoyed at their presence.
I was irate when I told them to go away and get off the property. They left. I went back to my room. All of a sudden, a group of police entered. One looked aggressive to me, eyes like he was under the influence of stimulants. I had done nothing wrong. I was forcibly grabbed, thrown on the ground and handcuffed. They threw me into the back of a paddy wagon, leaving me with bruises.
I was driven to hospital and put in a high dependency ward against my will. Sometime after this, I decided to visit my parents. This was out of character. I never thought I could throw a punch before that day. I understand why my parents took out a restraining order. I was in some denial about it at the time, and thought I could still try talking to them. The police were called when I approached the house as I had broken the order. I was shocked that I had ended up there. It smelled.
When I was in my late thirties, my home was broken into and I was sexually assaulted. I woke to hear people in my room. I froze. The ordeal was over quickly and I rang both a friend and a support service straight away. A few days later, another friend rang the police for me. I relocated to a rural town where I went straight to the local police and tried to report the incident again. As I write this, I have moved to Melbourne. I regularly read articles about police mistreatment and I get angry and sad when I read stories about Indigenous people and people with mental health problems dying in custody.
