FicWad

“Hello, my name is Frank and I’m working on self-harm and managing my anger.” I said distractedly.

”Hi, I’m Bob and I’m here for anger issues.”

“And what do you want to do with your anger issues?” Terri, one of the staff members asked.

“…manage them?” Bob responded, clearly uncomfortable.

“Okay, Tracy?”

“I’m Tracy and I’m working on getting rid of my self-harm and suicidal tendencies.”

“I’m Annie. I’m here to learn to cope better with my anxiety and depression.”

“I’m Jessica and I’m working on managing my depression and bipolar without meds.”

“I’m Terri and I work here at PHP, and you are?” she asked, turning to the boy in the all black get up with long black hair.

“I’m Gerard and I’m…working on…better managing my issues.” He looked scared as hell behind his long bangs. His eyes darted around as if we were going to attack at any second. I mean, I could understand how a room full of “crazies” would be intimidating but he had to be as messed up as us, or he wouldn’t be here.

“Okay, Now that we’ve done introductions, let’s do check in.” Terri said enthusiastically. Everyone except the new kid, who was staring at the ground, took out their pink check in sheets. Terri started going around the circle but I was deeply lost in thought about nothing in particular.

"Frank, could you please safety check Gerard?"

"Sure." I hadn't realized HOW zoned out I was but aparantly I missed everyone else checking in. "Are you feeling suicidal or homicidal?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"Suicidal."

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Six."

"That's pretty serious," Terri stated, crossing her arms. "Maybe we'll be able to talk about it in process group?"

"O-okay." Gerard stuttered quietly.

"Have you taken your meds?"

"I don't have any."

"Okay. Have you hurt yoursef in any way?" He visibly flinched.

"Yeah..." he said quietly after awhile.

"How?" His eyes opened real wide with shock. I knew it was an invasive question, but he was frozen.

"I...I took a box cutter..and..." He hid behind his bangs and squeezed his eyes shut. A blush spread accross his face and he opened his eyes again.

"Go on. It's okay; we're here for you."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay." I said before Terri told him otherwise. He breathed a sigh of relief and I went back to the safety check. "Any alcohol or drugs?"

"No."

"Any problems, conflicts, or changes at home?"

"Yeah, but that's normal." He relaxed a bit.

"How was your sleep?"

"I didn't get any."

"How was your appetite?"

"Okay."

"Now, Gerard, please check Frank in." I had all the politically correct answers and had achieved my goal for the night of listing ten things to do when I get self-harming urges.

In PHP (Partial Hospitalization Program),we have check in, art therapy. snack, process group, lunch, activity group, then another snack, and finally yoga and check out. Today in art therapy, we had to represent one habit we need to break. I painted a crappy looking slit wrist and a lighter to my bicep. Bob and I worked in silent side by side, like black clad partners in crime.

When it came time to share, I saw what Gerard had made. He was talented as hell. He had made a fully shaded, painting of his arm with dozens of cuts from drawing a razor blade across his skin again and again. The background was pills, pills, and more pills. All shapes and sizes. Scarlets and crimsons dripped from the pale skin. It was haunting.

"Mine is popping pills. I started when I was twelve with Concerta." Tracy said, brushing her long auburn hair behind her ear.

"How many days have you gone clean?" Gerard asked.

"Six so far." she said biting her lip.

"That's really good!" Jessica exclaimed.

"Almost a week." Bob said with a smile. "Air high-five!" They air high fived with enthusiasm, which gave me an idea.

"Yeah, we should do something tomorrow for hitting the one week mark." I suggested.

"Why don't you talk about this during lunch? We're running low on time." Diane reminded us. "Frank, why don't you go next?"

"Okay. I should stop cutting and burning myself. I started both in middle school and it's gotten to the point where in gym I always have to wear a jacket and jeans under my uniform. I've gone three days self harm free."

"Jessica?"

"I need to quit smoking. I'm also working on kicking a cocaine addiction."

"How long clean?" Bob asked.

"Five months and two days."

"That's awesome! Great job!" Tracy said supportively.

"Thanks!" Jessica's face lit up.

"I did my picture on my purging." Annie said. "I'm getting over my anorexia and coping with my body distortions, but I still have issues enjoying food. I under-eat constantly." We continued around the circle.

"I did mine on self-harm I need to stop cutting. I haven't hurt myself since I was in the hospital." said Kylie.

"Bob?"

"I couldn't think of anything. I mean, I need to better manage my anger issues and stop breaking things, but that's not really a bad habit, it's a bad lifestyle. There's no way to depict that."

"Okay. Gerard?" We turned our attention to the masterpiece in front of Gerard. The shading of it made it look so real. It was incredible.

"I did self-harm. I've gone one day without it." He sounded timid and weak and worlds of sad.

"The first week is always hard. It gets easier." I said weakly. He nodded in agreement, but he looked so hopeless. I felt awful that he was having such a rough time. My muscles tensed as I noticed he had been eyeing the bucket of scissors on the table.

"Well, Frank, do you have any tips for Gerard?" Diane asked.

"Um...well, fully commit to not self-harming. Get rid of your blades and if you feel urges, just listen to music or draw or something. Distractions are good. Maybe call someone. Just don't sit alone-as tempting as it is-because it makes it worse." I hoped that it would help a little. It was the best advice I could give. He nodded thoughtfully with his pained look in his eyes. His eyes flicked to the scissors again. As soon as Diane was involved in a conversation with someone else, I got Gerard's attention. "Hey. Don't. It's not worth it." I said, making a small gesture towards the scissors. Eyes wide with shock at my audacity, he seemed to be straining against himself. "Trust me." I whispered.

"Okay." he replied in a small voice.