The Forgotten Ones

Today is the second Thursday of the month, and you know what that means? It’s group therapy day! Why isn’t anyone clapping? Oh yeah, because that day is usually awful. Today, though, it wasn’t so bad…for me.

No matter where I go, I try to get there as early as possible. I like to arrive at least 10-15 minutes early for appointments and, when I was in school, classes.1 With holidays and visits to relatives, I would panic if we weren’t at their houses before we were expected to be there.2 Anyway, I got to my 2:00 appointment at 1:39. I was the only person from the group there already. My therapist was already up front, and, surprisingly, she went ahead and called me back at about 1:45.

Debbie usually runs a little behind, so I thought that maybe she was just going to get me to the back and then come back later for the rest of the people in the group. Well, we went back, and I got a chance to talk to her about various issues that I’ve been dealing with in my life: the near-death experience of Nana, the allegations from the aunt, the death of the water heater, the not-so-helpful-help of the Church, the ongoing tensions between my parents, the desire to exercise and get healthy, the body image issues related to abuse that I still deal with and that cause me to eat when I’m not hungry, etc. Basically, every little thing that I’ve been dealing with over the past days, weeks, months, and years of life. Debbie said that I needed to get out of the house more often. Actually, she wants me to get out everyday–partly for my anxiety related to social issues and partly to get away from the tension from the parents. She also wants me to exercise at least 5 days a week; she suggested water aerobics, yoga, and exercise bikes. She also wants me to do supplemental group therapy that’s targeted toward people who have issues regarding trauma, self-destructive behaviors, etc. It’s a weekly group with 10 or fewer members, all of whom are women who’ve been through or are going through some of the same issues as me.

After Debbie made all of these suggestions, at around 2:15 according to her Eeyore watch, she realized that she brought me back to the group room too early, so she called up to the secretaries who told her that she did have other patients waiting on her.  ((The receptionists had been calling her to see where she was, but none of them thought to send someone back to check the actual group room.)) Debbie went back up there to get the rest of the group, and then we started therapy. I was glad that I got the alone-time with her, because I needed to talk to her. And after having a chance to actually talk with her about my problems, I was able to actually participate pretty well in the group.3 I think both of us were shocked by that. (She had mentioned that she’d noticed that I tend to shy away during group.) Anyway, I felt bad that the other people in group didn’t get their full amount of time, but I don’t really regret that I had a chance to talk to her.

Oh, and the group has adapted to Narcissist Girl’s behaviors. Every time that she tried to make the remaining group time  about her today, someone would speak over her. It’s good to know that she no longer has a monopoly on group time. (I guess today, that was sort of what I had.)

Other than finally getting to talk to Debbie and going through all the group stuff, I’ve had a bit of a not-so-fun day. I woke up to my dad telling me that somehow Amy got a hold of the splint that I’ve been wearing on my thumb at night.4 She managed to chew it into several small pieces that we had to chase her down to get. After that, I went to get dressed for the day and was tying a string on this lace-up collar tank top when the string broke. I had to go find another shirt and when I went to put my hair up, a ponytail holder that I had never used before popped apart before I could get it near my hair. After we got home from the Mental Health Center, my mom said that the ground beef that the Church had gotten us was apparently from the markdown section of the meat department at Kroger. It had to be cooked today before it went bad. She thought that chances were that all of the chicken that they bought would have to be thrown out because it was probably from that same section and had expired. I know that we should have checked on Tuesday, but with all the stress of finding out that Sister Compassionless had bought food we couldn’t eat, none of us thought to. Then yesterday, my parents were busy out buying the groceries that Sister Compassionless “couldn’t find” the day before at the same store.

Tomorrow, one of the few actual helpers (Tom) from church is supposed to come by. He helped almost every single day last week, helped my dad get stuff out of storage because Dan (the member who was storing it for us) has been in the hospital almost a year with his various health problems, and has been mowing the lawn for us this year after the great rose bush destruction that occurred a few months ago. It will probably one of the last times that he comes by this year, since the grass should quit growing soon.

  1. One year, I showed up for a class several days before the class was even supposed to start. 

  2. Maybe that’s why my not-so-punctual aunt thinks that I’m a bad seed. 

  3. I found out that I’m the only member of the group who gets itchy and sometimes develops hives from stress and anxiety. 

  4. The tape hasn’t been sticking well the past few days, so I think it fell on during the night and she grabbed it when she woke up. 

About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.