The following short essay is from the January edition of our monthly publication The Savannah Post. Subscribers to The Savannah Post received it in an envelope in their physical mailbox at the end of January. Also included were: a piece of artwork by an artist friend, a recipe we love, as well as a response by Javen and Aleisha to questions in our advice column! If you’d like to ask about getting on our mailing list, see details at bottom of page. It’s $10 per month.
Split the Skies
There are some afternoons I wish J.C. would just go ahead and come back, split the azure blue open, finish this thing up.
I am sitting in my office on one such afternoon. A bonafide psychotherapist, almost. I have a few months left in the four-year clinical program. I have oodles of theoretical knowledge and about 3 ounces of actual experience. A mechanic who’s read a lot of manuals, hung out in some garages, never dropped an engine.
As I read the case file of young Sammy, I feel a tingling fear. This thing reads like a rap sheet. This juvenile has been abused physically, verbally, God knows how else. He’s punched, kicked, bit, screamed at, and otherwise menaced the adults and children within reach. Foster homes, group homes, psyche wards.
I glance at Sammy on my appointment list for the afternoon, a technician tasked with rebuilding the exploded Challenger space shuttle. Lord, if you came back before this appointment, that would be fine. I reconsider my office setup. Should I sit on the couch and have Sammy take my chair – a quicker escape if he starts attacking me? I try to remember how big a 13 year old is; I probably have a few pounds of advantage. Maybe he won’t show up.
My supervisor once told me that therapy is about giving the client a new experience. “Relate to them in a new way to help them shake out of old patterns of behavior and interaction.” he said. Does watching your therapist flee in terror count as a new experience?
Dingggggg. The front office messages to say he’s arrived. Lord? The skies? No?
I retrieve Sammy from the waiting room. “Hey there! Follow me to my office!” On second thought, maybe walk in front where I can see you.
He’s smaller than I thought. Good. Pretty shrimpy actually. I could definitely take him, unless he’s biting. We make some small talk. Ok, he’s not so bad. We use the white board. Ok, this kid is actually like super nice. He’s paying attention, answering questions, being very kind. Was I reading the right file? I start to relax a bit.
There is a certain hubris in providing therapy to kids like Sammy. He’s been through more therapists than he can even count plus doctors, coaches, case managers, graduate students. His parents are at their wit’s end during the consultation. But hey, I read some books, let me take a crack at him. I’ll give him a new experience! I’m not like the other therapists, Sammy. We can do this!
“Let’s play Uno!” I tell him. Pretty cool, huh? Therapist letting you play games in the first session. I’ve gone from hoping he doesn’t kill me to wanting him to like me. As I sit down into my chair, Uno deck in hand, the peace of our session is shattered. What started out as a miracle of tranquility is turned upside down by the most terrifying sound in western culture. A shriek. A scream. The primal wail of a pair of blue chinos slowly outgrown.
Sweet mother of ripppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp!!!!!!!
Sammy’s gaze centers upon the cavern between my legs. A clothlike formation of shredded navy cotton, boxer shorts, upper thigh.
This is not along the lines of an innocent fart which could have just been your foot thwacking the floot, your leg sliding along the chair. This is a massive gaping hole where my crotch has been split wide open. Lord, wrong azure blue.
Sammy will become one of my favorite clients. He is honest, hardworking, sincere, never misses his appointment. He’s been through more than most kids his age, or my age. He’s deeply kind to me.
He tells me in a subsequent session that he’d never had a therapist split their pants open. So, clinically speaking, yes, this has been a new experience for the lad. Booyah.
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