“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, Icouldn’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 lifepresents 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 likethat 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.
