Describe What Is Like To Live In Fear ?

Anxiety wherever you go, jumping at little sounds trying to make yourself seen as non-threatening as you can to avoid suspicion, buying what is cheapest so you don't run out of money, walking a bit too fast

Little context first. Years ago, I woke up hearing loud banging on my door. I knew what it was about because I had a bench warrant for missing court for charges of reckless driving, possession, and DUI. I didn't have a legitimate reason for missing court. I over slept because I got incredibly f**ked up all night. So, I was arrested and spent 6 months in jail. I tried to make the best of it, hard with the horrible conditions and treatment there, but, ok I'll stop because this will become a story of my time in jail so moving on!
~I'm clean now, and law abiding. There is no reason I should fear being arrested and incarcerated again, but I do. I have PTSD (from a couple of traumatic events). I panic in closed spaces. When I'm driving and see a cop car my heart drops. I start panicking that I'm going to be arrested. Sometimes, if I can, I'll pull into a store or another street to 'escape the fuzz'. I used to avoid checking my mail out of fear there'd be a for a court date. I was constantly worried that cops would bang on my door, so every time I heard a noise my heart stopped. I sometimes would avoid social gatherings with my friends and family because I was scared that I would somehow get arrested. On really bad days, I would isolate myself in my bedroom. Scared to come out because an officer might be at my door banging and ordering me to open it, and then I would go back to jail. Fear was my entire existence for a while. It's hell.
~My drug use was systemic to trauma I've suffered through my life, resulting to the events leading to my incarceration. I've been in therapy (still am) and have made alot of progress. But just a month ago, someone was banging on my door. It was just my neighbor giving me mail that was delivered to him by mistake, but it didn't matter. My chest got tight, stomach in knots, my mind was racing. Afterwards I hid in my room afraid to come out. I thought that I had gotten past that, but I guess not.

Exhausting.

Living under the roof of a spiteful, narcissist father-in-law who is a gun-toting pastor of a small southern baptist church/cult and who lives so far away from other people that you know, because he has informed you, that he could shoot you and bury you and no one would ever know. He objectively hates you and no one would even here you scream.

You can hear him talking to his wife in the next room at night about what he wishes he could do to you, but this is only after he knows your wife and son are asleep. No one believes you, not your wife nor your family nor your friends, you are alone in a hostile place with hostile people.

My wife finally saw it after nine months, and we packed up the boy and what essential items we could fit in our truck and we ran, abandoning most of our belongings. We spent three years homeless, and even after finally getting into a new place, my wife has no family. They all took his side and called her a drug addict because we were homeless and “unclean”, none of them speak to her anymore. We still look over our shoulders and have a minor freak-out every time we see a truck that looks kind of like his. We have security cameras all over our house because this is the only way we can sleep.