Claymore

Melinda pours me a refill of iced tea. She asks, “How is it... at the place where you’re staying?”

“Elk Meadow, glorious Elk Meadow. Definitely a mixed bag on that one. I think I could get something out of it, from some parts of it. Maybe I already have. But there’s also a lot of ...intrusion, a sort of invasiveness. I don’t like being pushed around, I’m here to work on myself, not to be reworked by someone else, and I’ve told them so. And instead of backing off, they get even pushier, and it’s gotten to the point that I don’t feel safe. I don’t trust them.”

Melinda blinks. There’s a momentary pause. “Are you...you haven’t left the program, or decided to leave...?”

“Good question.” I sigh. “One of the problems is that it isn’t just my own fear. It’s how they run the place, so everyone learns to be cautious about getting crossways with them so it won’t look like they don’t want to make progress, and that kind of permeates everything, you know? Everyone trying to avoid being called out for holding a viewpoint that isn’t approved of.”



I get up to use the toilet, and when I return, Melinda is holding the telephone receiver and tells me, apologetically, that my parents are on the line. It’s all there on her face: Sorry, but I had to, you’re probably not supposed to be out and you said you weren’t sure you’d go back in. I accept the phone from her.

“Derek? Well, I was wondering how you were doing”, my mom begins. “I’m a little surprised to hear that you’re over at the Harrisons. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I stepped out for some time to myself and then I felt like having a conversation with someone who isn’t a part of my Elk Meadow world.”

“We’re proud of you for doing this. I think it takes a lot of courage and I know it must not be easy. What time do you need to be back?”

“They’d be annoyed if I weren’t inside by midnight, I suspect.”

“So you’re on some kind of leave and it’s okay with them that you’re out roaming around?”

“I assume so. Nobody ever told me otherwise.”

“But you are going back after you finish visiting the Harrisons?”

“I’m evaluating the situation. It’s easier to weigh everything when I’m not feeling trapped. And that’s the problem, that’s how it feels. Trapped and not safe. Officially, I can leave the program any time I decide it isn’t for me, but that’s kind of a permanent move and I’m not sure it’s the right one.”

“It’s not. I know it’s not. We asked around everywhere and read as much information as we could, and if you can’t get the help you need at Elk Meadow, you’re probably not going to find it any better anywhere else. It may not be...pleasant, always, but like you said, you really aren’t trapped, so keep reminding yourself of that and stick with it.”

“There’s a good chance I will. I’m catching my breath. Time out.”

I hear my mother’s voice indistinctly. The end of it sounds like “...you talk to him.”

“Hello son”, comes my dad’s voice. “You’ll recall we had this conversation when we first proposed this to you. That you wouldn’t decide right away that it’s not working for you and bail out on it. You gave me your word, and I’m going to hold you to it.”

“This isn’t quite ‘right away’, but I’m leaning towards going back to the place. I never specifically planned not to. I just needed some fresh air and some space to think. I saw an open door and it seemed like a good idea.”

“You know, not everything that you feel an impulse to do is necessarily a good idea.”

“Well, dropping in on the Harrisons probably was, and I think I’d like to get back to socializing, if you don’t mind.” I hand the phone back to Melinda, who passes it on to Reggie.

I tip an it’s okay nod towards Melinda, who is still looking apologetic. And it is okay, I can’t blame her; in fact I’d put her and Reggie in the awkward middle.

It’s interesting how it’s perceived. Rehab. A place where it’s for your own good but you aren’t expected to realize that. A place people often bail out from, but it’s always unfortunate if they do. I never agreed to check myself in to a substance abuse rehab program, it was billed to me as multi-functional therapy and it was the other stuff on the menu that appealed to me as relevant; but that’s how everyone thinks of it, and it shades how the whole process is viewed. Including my little impromptu AWOL afternoon.

In the background, Reggie exchanges four or five quiet sentences with my dad and hangs up the phone.

It’s awkward for a couple of moments, but I ask what it’s like working within the aerospace industry and how they like living in Texas and how the university here compares to Valdosta State. We’re regaining our rhythm when the phone rings, and when Reggie answers it turns out to be Dr. Barnes and he’s asking to speak to me.



“I want you to know”, he tells me, “I care deeply about each individual’s progress within the program, and to be frank, your situation has thwarted me. Clearly, we aren’t reaching you. In my frustration, I’ve behaved in an unprofessional manner, and my reactions lately have not been appropriate. Which is something that has been pointed out to me by my colleagues. So I want to apologize for that.

“Your counselor, Mark, has explained to me in some detail how important it is for you to work on communications skills. He says we have myopically focused on issues you regard as tangential, and I want to apologize for that, too.”

I definitely wasn’t expecting this. An apologetic Dr. Barnes. A Dr. Barnes who has some self-awareness of his behavior and even listens to his colleagues. Maybe I pegged him wrong.

He continues, “What do you think would help facilitate you being able to work on your communications issues?”

“Psychodrama has been very helpful. I want to explore more... the patterns of how I interact, getting feedback from the others in the group, I think that’s been the most... it’s been relevant and it’s really affected me, I really feel touched by it. It’s been the gemstone surrounded by, umm, ...stuff that’s mostly gotten on my nerves. Mark is right, a lot of what I’ve been assigned to hasn’t been relevant to me.”

“Then that gives us something to move forward with! Will you come back and give us a chance? I want to prove to you that this can be a positive experience, a chance to make changes in your life and move forward!”

“To be honest, I left on a whim because I found an open door, but it also felt right because I wanted to remind everyone that I’m here of my own volition. I have the right to change my mind any time I think it’s appropriate. Elk Meadow has been pushing us around without our consent and I don’t see why I should put up with that. It’s done gentle, like you’re concerned for our delicate welfare, but you’re still constantly defining our experiences. My participation in my own therapy is a choice on my part, and your facility may or may not be therapeutic for me, and I get to evaluate that. It’s never felt like that was being acknowledged.”

“That’s right, you do have a choice. Even the people who agreed to be here in lieu of being sentenced can decide they’d rather face the other consequences. We would prefer that whenever you decide to leave, you don’t do it the way you did this afternoon. We have insurance issues, where we’re accountable for what happens to you if you haven’t formally checked out.”

“Well... I didn’t break out in order to leave the program. I just wanted to be out for a little while. Everyone’s been asking me if I was willing to go back. I said at the beginning that I’d give Elk Meadow a try, and since I haven’t decided that that’s over, I think it’s worth upping the ante and asking for a new hand. Deal the cards and let’s see what goes down next.”

I was entirely willing to pay for a cab but Dr. Barnes insists that a courier come to pick me up and bring me back, so I give him the Harrison’s address.



* * *



My reentry to Elk Meadow is as impersonal and intrusive as the initial entry was. I’d been expecting welcome and/or admonitions from the people I know from everyday contact — I was particularly anticipating what Emily, Joe, April, and Jake would each want to say to me— but first there’s a lot of perfunctory interaction with the business office staff asking me questions from a printed list. Except this time I am more aware that they are working from a list. It’s not that they are clinically detached uncaring people, it’s that these aren’t their questions to begin with, they’re questions they’ve been instructed to ask; and nobody cares about my hypothetical answers to any follow-up questions that these mere office staffers might ask, nor about their opinions about any of our answers. So, no, they don’t ask follow-up questions.

Well, it may be an unintended effect, but it means that the patient experiences it as very dehumanizing and offputting. The people making all these personal inquiries are impatient about getting down your answers and moving on. They’re asking you all these questions but no answer you can give them is ever interesting, they just go on to the next question; and you can’t explain yourself, you’ve been prejudged. It feels like a courtroom drama where the prosecutor isn’t trying to understand what you did and why, the prosecutor is trying to make you give answers that will make you look bad. Oh, and yeah, incidentally, it does occur to me that the dehumanizing and offputting aspect may not be an unintended effect.



I have to pee in a cup. No surprise there. I’m waved towards a small bathroom in the back of the nurse’s station. I hand them back the urine specimen. They also want to take a blood sample. A bit less of a lack of surprise there. But fine. I don’t care. I extend my arm.

Back into the institution. Barnes promises it will be different. I didn’t promise I’d be different. So why don’t I feel more in control of the situation than I actually do at the moment?

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I'm seeking feedback on my book Within the Box right here, one chapter at a time.

I'm hoping people will read it and comment on it as I go. I'm hoping that if they like it, they'll spread the word.

When I get to the end, I'll start over with the first chapter, by which point I'll no doubt have made changes.

Meanwhile, I'll keep querying lit agents, because why not? But this way I'm not postponing the experience of having readers.



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My first book, GenderQueer: A Story From a Different Closet, is published by Sunstone Press. It is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble in paperback, hardback, and ebook, and as ebook only from Apple, Kobo, and directly from Sunstone Press themselves.


My second book, That Guy in Our Women's Studies Class, has also now been published by Sunstone Press. It's a sequel to GenderQueer. It is available on Amazon and on Barnes & Noble in paperback and ebook, and as ebook only from Apple, Kobo, and directly from Sunstone Press themselves.




Links to published reviews and comments are listed on my Home Page, for both published books.

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This DreamWidth blog is echoed on Substack and LiveJournal. Please friend/link me from any of those environments on which you have an account.

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