Chapter 6
Chapter six
The Phoenix
After breakfast was over, Cindy hadn’t been kidding about counting everything on our trays.
We lined up again, in a similar order to how we were when coming here, and let the lunchroom staff count everything on our trays.
Once all forks, knives, rubber bands, and plates were accounted for, we were allowed to follow our nurse back up to our hall and to the lounge.
On the schedule this morning, we had group therapy directly after our meal with a therapist in the patient lounge near the nurses’ station.
The three men sat at one of the tables in the center of the room.
Thelma chose an armchair, while Kendi and I took seats on the only couch in the lounge.
I picked up one of the old throw pillows and drew it onto my lap, holding it tightly against my stomach.
Cindy instructed us to wait for our therapist in the lounge before she left to join the other nurses at their station.
A few minutes passed in almost complete silence before a middle-aged woman who looked more suited for a courtroom appeared.
Her business-casual clothes were pressed perfectly, without a crease in sight, and completely out of place in the grungy atmosphere of the lounge area.
The therapist took a chair from an empty table and turned it around so she could sit facing the room, crossing her legs at the ankles, and smiled warmly at everyone.
She was slender, with light brown hair pulled back into a severe bun on the top of her head.
Her angular face however looked nice, however, without being hidden by hair. She wore minimal makeup and no jewelry.
“Good morning everyone. I see we have a new face today,” she wasted no time looking directly at me. I squeezed the pillow a little tighter, not enjoying being singled out at the very beginning of the session. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
I bit the inside of my bottom lip for a moment, trying to decide how difficult I wanted to be.
Most days, my attitude could be considered pleasant, but my patience was wearing thin with having to go through this process multiple times.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to remind myself not to take it out on people who were just trying to do their jobs.
“I’m Raelynn.” Short, sweet, and to the point.
“Hi Raelynn, I’m Jessica Kent. I run a lot of the group therapy sessions during the week here. It’s nice to meet you.” I gave her a tight smile in return, but didn’t offer up anything more about myself. “Well, everyone, are we ready to get started?”
She pulled a notebook out of the leather briefcase sitting at her feet and balanced it on her lap. From here, I couldn’t see what she was writing as she scribbled away before starting the session. I wondered if she found it enjoyable, getting to spend her days poking around people’s heads.
“How is everyone doing today?” she asked, slowly making eye contact with everyone around the group. No one spoke up in response to her inquiry. “Andrew, would you like to start us off?”
The younger man in the group with tight brown curls under a black beanie shook his head. His leg bounced rapidly up and down, his nerves obviously working overtime. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, too young to already be in a place like this.
“What about you, Kendi?” She must have known Kendi would help her get the session started.
“I’m doing pretty good today, after my check-up yesterday, they say I’ve gained seventeen pounds, so I'm almost at my goal,” Kendi said brightly. Her positivity didn’t seem to dim, given the negativity surrounding her.
“That’s wonderful news, Kendi, you’ve really been dedicated to your program.
” She paused, looking around the group again, “Would anyone else like to update the group?” No one else spoke up.
“Well, today we are going to be discussing coping skills. Coping skills are a critical aspect of mental health. By developing appropriate and healthy coping skills, we can help learn what triggers us, and how to manage the stresses and challenges everyday life presents us with. Now, can anyone share a coping skill they’ve learned either outside of the clinic or during their stay here? ”
“Running,” Kendi said without waiting for anyone else to answer. I highly suspected no one else would without being prompted. They may have been able to keep us in here, but making patients talk seemed to be a whole different story.
“Excellent example,” Kendi beamed at her praise, “Yes, physical activity can be good for not just your body but for your mind as well. The endorphins released during moderate exercise have proven to make a difference in your overall mental health. Do you have any plans to continue this skill once you leave the clinic?” She asked as she still eyed the rest of the room for anyone else willing to participate.
“I’ve decided I’m going to sign up for a marathon, give myself something to work towards. I’ve found that I do really well when I have a specific goal in mind rather than just trying to better myself with little to no structure.”
“Wonderful, Kendi, I really want to commend you on the effort you’ve put into your program.
I think you’re going to thrive once you’re discharged with the mindset that you have.
Does anyone else have a coping skill to share?
” When no one answered her, she started calling on other patients to try and get them to share their input.
“Don’t be shy, Brandon. Why don’t you share one with us?
Are you ready to try and open up a little bit today? ”
Chancing a glance, I slid my eyes to the direction of Brandon, finding his gaze fixed on me like it had been at breakfast. As quickly as I could, I looked away and made sure my pillow was firmly held against my stomach, nestled in my criss-crossed legs.
He didn’t answer right away, and I really wished he hadn’t at all after he decided to speak.
“Pussy always helps me,” he commented crudely, still not looking at the therapist but keeping his dark eyes on me.
“Sex is known to be a good release for stress, as long as it’s between two consenting adults -” Jessica had started taking his statement and trying to make it less perverse, but Brandon cut her off.
“That’s where you’re wrong doc, the best sex is with innocent untouched pussy,” he flicked his tongue out over his lips in a snake like manner as he continued, “the younger the better, and when they fight you…” he trailed off, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he titled it backwards as if he was in the throws of passion.
“They’re so tight when they’re young.” His words made me nauseous, the thought of touching a child like that was sickening.
“Alright, Brandon, that’s enough,” Her voice lost the pleasant demeanor it had held as she took a firmer approach, “I think those are things you need to save to discuss in your individual therapy.” Jessica's tone gave no reason for argument as she waved her hand to get the attention of the nurses in their station.
It wasn’t Cindy who came out from behind the station wall, rather a very tall, large man who wouldn’t be out of place as a bouncer at a nightclub.
His dark hair was cropped short, and his facial expressions showed he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.
He was lacking a badge marking him as a nurse; instead, he just had his picture and a barcode for scanning in and out of rooms. If I had to guess, I would say he was an orderly.
“Thomas, I think Brandon needs to be seen to his room, please,” Jessica instructed him.
Thomas walked over to Brandon and instructed him to get up. Brandon, however, didn’t seem to be ready to leave. He lunged up from his seat at the table, knocking it into Andrew and sending him falling from his chair.
“What’s the matter, doc?” He yelled as Thomas grabbed his arms and restrained them behind his back.
“Scared of a little pussy talk? Want to know how her seven-year-old cunt felt, doc?” Thomas started to pull him out into the hallway as he kept screaming.
“Maybe you need to get fucked really good doc, if a little talk about pussy upsets you so bad!” Brandon continued his screaming until Thomas got him out of the hallway.
Jessica gave the group a moment to process what just happened and helped Andrew pick up the chair, not once losing her professional composure.
She asked the young man if he was alright and checked him for any obvious marks.
I had to wonder what doctor decided a man who liked to talk about children like that would let him in the behavioral wing and not throw him in with the criminals in the criminal ward.
Surely that wasn’t considered a normal disorder to be in a larger group of people.
“I’m sorry, everyone, I’ll talk with Dr. Stephens about the outburst. I hope it didn’t deter anyone else from wanting to participate today.
” Jessica took a seat back down and adjusted her skirt, her voice never wavering from the incident that had just taken place.
If that wasn’t enough to ruffle her demeanor, I had to wonder what would be bad enough to rattle her.
Or if she was just well-practiced and trained enough to be able to maintain her composure as well as she did.
“Raelynn, do you have any coping skills you’d like to share with the group?
” I hesitated, thinking long and hard, and decided against just blurting out what I had told Kendi at breakfast. As much as cutting helped me cope when stress got bad, I knew it wasn’t one of the healthy coping skills she wanted us to talk about.
“A few years ago, I rescued a German Shepherd; he’d been my main coping skill.
” It wasn’t an outright lie. Riley was a big reason why my stress was so manageable.
Whether we were hiking, out to lunch with friends, or just spending a lazy day at home binging a new show, he was always there and never judging me.
“Pets can be a wonderful way to help us cope with stress. The unconditional love they offer is a wonderful thing to have waiting for you at home when you’ve had a stressful day. Thelma, would you like to share anything?”
Thelma was still picking at the spots no one else could see on her clothes.
She didn’t shake her head no at the therapist, but took a moment before she answered.
“Art, I’ve really liked the art here. It reminds me of doing crafts with my grandchildren.
” Her voice softened at the mention of her family, her eyes glazing over with tears, but they never fell.
“Excellent, Thelma. Make sure you tell Nadia that the next time you see her, she loves hearing her art classes have made an impact. And I’m sure your grandchildren will love it when you complete your program and can teach them new crafts when you go home.
” Jessica sounded optimistic, but Thelma’s eyes were downcast, clearly going home to her wasn’t as pleasant a thought as Jessica made it sound.
“Tyson? Do you have anything you’d like to add?
” She addressed the dark skinned man sitting with Andrew.
He hadn’t reacted much during Brandon's outburst, and didn’t really seem to be paying attention now, almost like he was in a different place entirely that the rest of us just couldn’t see.
When he didn’t respond, Andrew wordlessly tapped his arm to get his attention. “Hmm?” He said still not completely engaged in the conversation.
“Tyson, I asked if you had any coping skills you’ve learned that you would like to share with the group,” Jessica repeated patiently.
“Nah,” He said after another moment and went back to not paying attention.
Kendi scooted a little closer to me on the couch and whispered, “He’s a paranoid schizophrenic; the amount of medication he’s on makes him a zombie.
” I nodded at the explanation, my mind still hung up on Brandon's outburst more than anything going on with Tyson. Medicated or not, he didn’t give me the creeps like Mr. Clean the pedophile did.
“You’ve all had some wonderful coping skills to share with everyone,” Jessica started, “Now let's try to expand on those. I’ve printed off some examples of scientifically proven methods that can be used outside of the clinic for you to try.” She pulled a stack of papers out of her bag and started handing them out to all of us.
Glancing at the paper, I found most of the suggestions were pretty standard, at least from what I had learned on my own throughout the years of dealing with anxiety and self-harm. Exercise, writing, music, therapy, meditation, and breathing exercises were among some of the examples listed.
She spent the remainder of the hour helping us decide which options we were most likely to try outside the clinic. She spent time not just helping us decide, but also really thinking through how to incorporate the ideas into our everyday lives once we left our respective programs.
My heart hurt for Thelma when she admitted she wasn’t allowed to be around her grandchildren until she was at least six months sober from alcohol, but Jessica did a wonderful job being compassionate with her, even offering to print her off a list of local art classes she could look into to keep up the practice once she left.
She promised her that once she started throwing herself into a hobby, those six months would fly past, and by being sober, she would be able to be the best grandmother she could be.