Jaime Waite clamped his hands onto the seat cover as he slumped down
into the chair, and outstretched his legs into the center of the tight
circle. Nervously, he leaned forward and brought in his legs, resting his
chin on the surface of his knuckles and glaring down at the blue carpet. He
felt the eyes of the entire circle piercing into him, but he wouldn't let
them know of his vulnerability and un-comfort, he'd play it real cool.
"Ok," initiated the older female counselor who sat in a chair at the opposite end of Jaime. "We have a new member, who I'm sure you've all noticed." Jaime rose from his brooding slump and gazed up at the strangers, all about sixteen to eighteen. Jaime was seventeen. "Would you like to introduce yourself?" She asked, a smile sliding across her face.
"Hi," He waved at them sarcastically and a mischievous smile slid across his face. "My name is Jaime…" he over-annunciated the consonants and spoke very slowly, provoking a few giggles here and there across the ring.
"Hi Jaime…" the teens replied. And once again, he mockingly waved back.
"Welcome," the counselor continued, "we are glad to have you here…" her voice drifted off and then she began to speak again. "Does anybody have a topic they'd like to discuss?" Jaime almost laughed but somehow managed to keep his anxiousness inside him and stay still. No one answered, but she didn't seem surprised or disappointed. "Why don't we go around the room and say one good thing and one bad thing about your life today?" The teenagers didn't seem surprised or disappointed either. But Jaime was – how could he pull off staying cool now? What would he say? How would he say it? Would he be honest? Would he simply "pass"? Would he lose it right there and then in front of a bunch of self-help freaks? Maybe he'd just relax and listen… be natural? What was natural? How could anybody be natural in such an unnatural setting?
The first speaker was quiet, but not shy. She wore her dark hair up in a messy ponytail and her clothes were lose and careless. She had a subtle beauty that hid behind the strands of hair in her face and baggy clothes, but Jaime saw it instantly.
"My name is June…" She started and then hesitated… "Well, I guess…" she started again, looking down at the ground in deep thought. "I'm happy to be here and I feel like things are getting better for me…" she faded away for a second and then said, "But it's still hard – you know – to be happy without what you're used to making you happy… I guess, because you have to face things that you've tried so hard to avoid-" she rambled, but didn't seem nervous, just contemplative. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and grinned as the next person introduced himself. But Jaime didn't look at him, only at June. She glanced up at him and he turned his gaze to the boy next to her. But he could see her eyes in the corner of his, stealing glances at him every once in a while as the different teens told the group deep things and trivial things, but all things that were good or bad. And finally it was Jaime's turn. He felt the hair on his neck and arms stand up and he grasped the arms of his chair in order to feel stable and strong – in order to feel something besides the embarrassment that engulfed him. His breath quickened and he felt cold all over.
"I'm Jamie," he mumbled. After a few seconds, "Well, the bad thing is – it appears that your not allowed to drink or smoke or shoot up here… and doing that is the only good thing in my life…" he said sarcastically. He looked around the room and all of the tension left him. At the end of his statement he looked up at June and she acknowledged him with the lift of her eyebrow and an apologetic smirk. "The good thing is – well, I guess there isn't anything good right now…" he explained bitterly. "Can I pass on that part?" The mediator nodded her head.
"Do you want to talk about why drinking or smoking or shooting up was the only good thing in your life?" She asked kindly, her voice soft and laid back – the stereotypical shrink/counselor voice that Jaime was so familiar with.
"Not really," he answered, overly polite. And then the next person continued the flow of discussion and Jaime was relieved to be over and done with the whole ordeal – God, did he want a cigarette! After everybody went around the circle there was more pouring out of emotions and some people cried and others just listened very tentatively, of course Jaime didn't remember the subject matter or the stories – only June's reactions to them.
They closed by holding hands and listening to a prayer that the female counselor raddled off. Jaime watched the group as they shut their eyes and bowed during the prayer, all except June. And after the circle broke, he rushed over to her.
"June…" he whispered, "pretty name…" she blushed and told him that they would only see each other during group and that guys and girls are separated so he better watch out. "So this is goodbye?" he whimpered.
"Yeah, I guess…."
"You know-" he blurted out, as she started to walk away, "I lied when I said there wasn't anything good about being here…" She stopped and smiled at him again and then walked off towards a hallway, following the rest of the girls. "I guess I'll see you at group then!" She didn't look back at him this time, but he knew that she heard him.
It was day 4. He had survived two days of detox and a day of group therapy and today he made sure to grab a seat next to June during the new group session. She acted nonchalant about the whole thing and they didn't speak, for when they sat down the counselor had already opened up the meeting.
"Today, what I want to know – what is a relationship in your life – it could be a relationship with a girlfriend/boyfriend, friend, family member – anything – that you would like to change…" she inquired, "we'll open with a moment of silence and you can consider that… and then we'll go around the room, okay?" June and Jaime where right next to the counselor and Jaime prayed she wouldn't start in his direction. But of course, she did. June started.
"A relationship I would change…" she sighed, "there are so many!" she giggled to herself, a little sadly, "ah- I guess the one I'd want to change the most is the one with my mom." There was a moment of silence.
"Why is that?" The counselor said, encouraging elaboration.
"She doesn't understand me and I don't understand her… you know? We're always on different agendas and we have troubled finding common ground… she hates my dad and it's like she wants me to hate him too… but I don't, and that drives a huge wedge between us. And anyway, I wish things could be different between us, that's all."
"Have you brought this up with her?"
"So many times…" she groaned, "but she just doesn't listen. I guess I don't listen to her very much either though."
"That's very good," the counselor commended, "noticing our parts is the first step in building a better life for ourselves and those around us. Because otherwise, we only look at the problem, rather than the solution. When we better ourselves, we can look at others with a different perception and approach… okay, Jaime? What about you?" He didn't say anything and bit his lip.
"Frankly – I don't think it's any of your business," he explained. She nodded her head and took a deep breath before replying.
"I understand…" she began.
"Good," he interrupted.
"However, I want you to understand that no one passes judgment here and no information leaves this circle – nothing at all…. And Jaime?" He looked up at her. "It's always nice to have baggage that weighs down on us lifted from our shoulders and that's what group is for." She smiled again and then the flow of discussion, once again, like always, continued. But this time he listened – intently. And the stories were so much like his experiences – it was the first time he had seen anyone who he could relate to besides his drug addict friends back at home – the friends who got him arrested and then abandoned him when he joined the EMT squad. It was painful to listen to some of the stories because they were so real to him, but he felt as though he wasn't the only one who had suffered or was suffering and he was reluctantly comforted
The days passed. He got to know fellow boys and gradually his bed time, free time, dinner time, volunteer work, group time, became routine – but he still stayed quiet. However, he started to loosen up and grew less and less fearful of being open. It was time, because the cravings of drugs and alcohol grew and grew. He wanted to feel good and shut out the painful memories and he was about to bust – it was time.
Day 6 of group. He sat next to June as usual. He felt like he knew her because of all that she had shared and almost felt responsible to share just as much. "Today," the counselor said, as she did everyday, "I have a topic that I really want you to think about very hard. What resentments towards people, circumstances, whatever you can think of, have you held inside you for a long time now? I want to let go of some of that resentment today – or at least try." Let go of resentment? Is that even possible? Jaime doubted the anger he bundled up inside could ever be released. He had developed it every damn day of his life. June always sat next to the counselor, so Jaime was always the second to speak – June, the first.
"I hold resentment towards both my parents…" she stated boldly, "because sometimes I feel like they only care about themselves and not me at all…" her voice was weak and shaky, but confident. She held her hand up to her mouth and then brushed away the tears that emerged along the rims of her eyes. Jaime clasped his hand over her free one and she bowed her head down. "That's it…" she whispered. The counselor patted her shoulder and then gestured for Jaime to speak.
He sighed and than started. "I hold resentment towards myself…" he stuttered, innocent and shy, almost fearful of being hit for openly expressing self-pity.
"Would you like to share with us why?" She asked.
There was a long minute of silence as Jaime gathered the courage to share.
"When I was eight, my brother was six…" Jaime stuttered, embracing himself with his arms and glaring down at his feet. "My mother – she was a bad junkie/alcoholic, I mean she loved us – or she did before… my step dad – he messed her up. I mean, she was already messed up to begin with – but he messed her up real bad and one afternoon, I think it was during the summer – no, it couldn't have been, because the water was cold – well, she drove me and my brother out to this lake by our house…" he told the story thoroughly and slowly and the entire group listened intently, "she said she was gonna take us to our grandparents – we'd always go there when my step dad… you know… but, that's not where he went." Jaime hesitated, "she drove off into the lake… and I tried to get me and my brother out – God I tried, but I couldn't save him… or her… my step dad… he took custody, he kinda went crazy after that… uh- he used to…" Jaime buried his face in his hands. What happened? How could he have spilled all of that out and why was he letting himself break down? "He used to… I can't… I don't wanna remember… please don't make me…" he pleaded. He started to sob uncontrollably.
"Of course we won't make you…" the counselor assured, rushing over to comfort him. "It wasn't your fault Jaime," she repeatedly said as she rocked him.
"Why can't anyone love me then?" He cried.
"Did your stepfather abuse you, Jaime?" He started to sob harder. "Listen to me-" she yelled, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and forcing him to look at her. "It's not your fault – your stepfather is sick. It's not you. You're mother was sick. It's not you."
"He used to tell me because I took away his wife that he'd have to… to please himself… with m-…"
"Ok," initiated the older female counselor who sat in a chair at the opposite end of Jaime. "We have a new member, who I'm sure you've all noticed." Jaime rose from his brooding slump and gazed up at the strangers, all about sixteen to eighteen. Jaime was seventeen. "Would you like to introduce yourself?" She asked, a smile sliding across her face.
"Hi," He waved at them sarcastically and a mischievous smile slid across his face. "My name is Jaime…" he over-annunciated the consonants and spoke very slowly, provoking a few giggles here and there across the ring.
"Hi Jaime…" the teens replied. And once again, he mockingly waved back.
"Welcome," the counselor continued, "we are glad to have you here…" her voice drifted off and then she began to speak again. "Does anybody have a topic they'd like to discuss?" Jaime almost laughed but somehow managed to keep his anxiousness inside him and stay still. No one answered, but she didn't seem surprised or disappointed. "Why don't we go around the room and say one good thing and one bad thing about your life today?" The teenagers didn't seem surprised or disappointed either. But Jaime was – how could he pull off staying cool now? What would he say? How would he say it? Would he be honest? Would he simply "pass"? Would he lose it right there and then in front of a bunch of self-help freaks? Maybe he'd just relax and listen… be natural? What was natural? How could anybody be natural in such an unnatural setting?
The first speaker was quiet, but not shy. She wore her dark hair up in a messy ponytail and her clothes were lose and careless. She had a subtle beauty that hid behind the strands of hair in her face and baggy clothes, but Jaime saw it instantly.
"My name is June…" She started and then hesitated… "Well, I guess…" she started again, looking down at the ground in deep thought. "I'm happy to be here and I feel like things are getting better for me…" she faded away for a second and then said, "But it's still hard – you know – to be happy without what you're used to making you happy… I guess, because you have to face things that you've tried so hard to avoid-" she rambled, but didn't seem nervous, just contemplative. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and grinned as the next person introduced himself. But Jaime didn't look at him, only at June. She glanced up at him and he turned his gaze to the boy next to her. But he could see her eyes in the corner of his, stealing glances at him every once in a while as the different teens told the group deep things and trivial things, but all things that were good or bad. And finally it was Jaime's turn. He felt the hair on his neck and arms stand up and he grasped the arms of his chair in order to feel stable and strong – in order to feel something besides the embarrassment that engulfed him. His breath quickened and he felt cold all over.
"I'm Jamie," he mumbled. After a few seconds, "Well, the bad thing is – it appears that your not allowed to drink or smoke or shoot up here… and doing that is the only good thing in my life…" he said sarcastically. He looked around the room and all of the tension left him. At the end of his statement he looked up at June and she acknowledged him with the lift of her eyebrow and an apologetic smirk. "The good thing is – well, I guess there isn't anything good right now…" he explained bitterly. "Can I pass on that part?" The mediator nodded her head.
"Do you want to talk about why drinking or smoking or shooting up was the only good thing in your life?" She asked kindly, her voice soft and laid back – the stereotypical shrink/counselor voice that Jaime was so familiar with.
"Not really," he answered, overly polite. And then the next person continued the flow of discussion and Jaime was relieved to be over and done with the whole ordeal – God, did he want a cigarette! After everybody went around the circle there was more pouring out of emotions and some people cried and others just listened very tentatively, of course Jaime didn't remember the subject matter or the stories – only June's reactions to them.
They closed by holding hands and listening to a prayer that the female counselor raddled off. Jaime watched the group as they shut their eyes and bowed during the prayer, all except June. And after the circle broke, he rushed over to her.
"June…" he whispered, "pretty name…" she blushed and told him that they would only see each other during group and that guys and girls are separated so he better watch out. "So this is goodbye?" he whimpered.
"Yeah, I guess…."
"You know-" he blurted out, as she started to walk away, "I lied when I said there wasn't anything good about being here…" She stopped and smiled at him again and then walked off towards a hallway, following the rest of the girls. "I guess I'll see you at group then!" She didn't look back at him this time, but he knew that she heard him.
It was day 4. He had survived two days of detox and a day of group therapy and today he made sure to grab a seat next to June during the new group session. She acted nonchalant about the whole thing and they didn't speak, for when they sat down the counselor had already opened up the meeting.
"Today, what I want to know – what is a relationship in your life – it could be a relationship with a girlfriend/boyfriend, friend, family member – anything – that you would like to change…" she inquired, "we'll open with a moment of silence and you can consider that… and then we'll go around the room, okay?" June and Jaime where right next to the counselor and Jaime prayed she wouldn't start in his direction. But of course, she did. June started.
"A relationship I would change…" she sighed, "there are so many!" she giggled to herself, a little sadly, "ah- I guess the one I'd want to change the most is the one with my mom." There was a moment of silence.
"Why is that?" The counselor said, encouraging elaboration.
"She doesn't understand me and I don't understand her… you know? We're always on different agendas and we have troubled finding common ground… she hates my dad and it's like she wants me to hate him too… but I don't, and that drives a huge wedge between us. And anyway, I wish things could be different between us, that's all."
"Have you brought this up with her?"
"So many times…" she groaned, "but she just doesn't listen. I guess I don't listen to her very much either though."
"That's very good," the counselor commended, "noticing our parts is the first step in building a better life for ourselves and those around us. Because otherwise, we only look at the problem, rather than the solution. When we better ourselves, we can look at others with a different perception and approach… okay, Jaime? What about you?" He didn't say anything and bit his lip.
"Frankly – I don't think it's any of your business," he explained. She nodded her head and took a deep breath before replying.
"I understand…" she began.
"Good," he interrupted.
"However, I want you to understand that no one passes judgment here and no information leaves this circle – nothing at all…. And Jaime?" He looked up at her. "It's always nice to have baggage that weighs down on us lifted from our shoulders and that's what group is for." She smiled again and then the flow of discussion, once again, like always, continued. But this time he listened – intently. And the stories were so much like his experiences – it was the first time he had seen anyone who he could relate to besides his drug addict friends back at home – the friends who got him arrested and then abandoned him when he joined the EMT squad. It was painful to listen to some of the stories because they were so real to him, but he felt as though he wasn't the only one who had suffered or was suffering and he was reluctantly comforted
The days passed. He got to know fellow boys and gradually his bed time, free time, dinner time, volunteer work, group time, became routine – but he still stayed quiet. However, he started to loosen up and grew less and less fearful of being open. It was time, because the cravings of drugs and alcohol grew and grew. He wanted to feel good and shut out the painful memories and he was about to bust – it was time.
Day 6 of group. He sat next to June as usual. He felt like he knew her because of all that she had shared and almost felt responsible to share just as much. "Today," the counselor said, as she did everyday, "I have a topic that I really want you to think about very hard. What resentments towards people, circumstances, whatever you can think of, have you held inside you for a long time now? I want to let go of some of that resentment today – or at least try." Let go of resentment? Is that even possible? Jaime doubted the anger he bundled up inside could ever be released. He had developed it every damn day of his life. June always sat next to the counselor, so Jaime was always the second to speak – June, the first.
"I hold resentment towards both my parents…" she stated boldly, "because sometimes I feel like they only care about themselves and not me at all…" her voice was weak and shaky, but confident. She held her hand up to her mouth and then brushed away the tears that emerged along the rims of her eyes. Jaime clasped his hand over her free one and she bowed her head down. "That's it…" she whispered. The counselor patted her shoulder and then gestured for Jaime to speak.
He sighed and than started. "I hold resentment towards myself…" he stuttered, innocent and shy, almost fearful of being hit for openly expressing self-pity.
"Would you like to share with us why?" She asked.
There was a long minute of silence as Jaime gathered the courage to share.
"When I was eight, my brother was six…" Jaime stuttered, embracing himself with his arms and glaring down at his feet. "My mother – she was a bad junkie/alcoholic, I mean she loved us – or she did before… my step dad – he messed her up. I mean, she was already messed up to begin with – but he messed her up real bad and one afternoon, I think it was during the summer – no, it couldn't have been, because the water was cold – well, she drove me and my brother out to this lake by our house…" he told the story thoroughly and slowly and the entire group listened intently, "she said she was gonna take us to our grandparents – we'd always go there when my step dad… you know… but, that's not where he went." Jaime hesitated, "she drove off into the lake… and I tried to get me and my brother out – God I tried, but I couldn't save him… or her… my step dad… he took custody, he kinda went crazy after that… uh- he used to…" Jaime buried his face in his hands. What happened? How could he have spilled all of that out and why was he letting himself break down? "He used to… I can't… I don't wanna remember… please don't make me…" he pleaded. He started to sob uncontrollably.
"Of course we won't make you…" the counselor assured, rushing over to comfort him. "It wasn't your fault Jaime," she repeatedly said as she rocked him.
"Why can't anyone love me then?" He cried.
"Did your stepfather abuse you, Jaime?" He started to sob harder. "Listen to me-" she yelled, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and forcing him to look at her. "It's not your fault – your stepfather is sick. It's not you. You're mother was sick. It's not you."
"He used to tell me because I took away his wife that he'd have to… to please himself… with m-…"