Sleepy Days

Sleepy Days, Come No More

Chapter 14

After I left the cabin I took a cab to the bus station. I had already bought my ticket, but the bus wasn't due for a few hours. So, I sat on a bench and listened to music. I was really beginning to doubt my decision. I knew that Blake would be hurt and would feel abandoned by my sudden departure.

I continued to run the questions through my mind as I waited for the bus. Should I go? Should I stay? Would Blake forgive me? Finally, I decided not to think about it anymore. I believed that I was making the right decision. I probably should have done it years ago.

When the bus arrived I boarded and found a window seat. It was a long trip and there was a changeover. The hardest thing about long bus trips are the seats, they were so hard, which only exasperated my already sore rear.

I spent the trip looking out the window and shifting around in my seat. My thoughts were mostly about Blake. I knew that he had probably awakened and found the bed empty. That he had scrambled to his feet and called out for me. He would have looked around the cabin in search of someone who was long gone, a ghost. He had probably gone back to the bedroom to call me; only to find my letter.

I hoped that the letter would explain everything. Explain the nightmares and the distance. The reluctance to move forward. I hoped he would understand that this was the best choice. That I was doing this not just for me, but for us both. I had to leave to get better, he must understand that.

These thoughts whirled through my mind until I reached my destination. Once I departed the bus I took a taxi to the clinic that I would be staying at. I called Marie to let her know that I had arrived. I saw that I had several missed calls and a few voice mails from Blake.

Message 1:

"Steven, baby, what is going on? I read your letter. What do you mean you are going away? Where are you going?" He paused. "Baby, call me, I am worried and I want to talk to you. Call me." He exclaimed.

Message 2:

"Baby, listen, we need to talk. Tell me where you are and I'll come and get you. We can work this out together baby. Please, call me."

Message 3:

"Steven, why haven't you called me back! You can't just leave. What the hell are you doing? Call me!"

Message 4:

"Baby, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I know you are upset and are going through a difficult time; I just want to know that you are okay. I just want to hear your voice. Baby, I love you. Please call me."

End of Messages.

I stood outside the clinic, wondering if I should call him. I wanted to talk to him, to convince him that everything was alright, but I didn't know what to say and I didn't want to doubt my decision. I decided to send him a voice message.

My message to Blake:

"Hey, baby. It's me. I got your messages, sorry that I didn't call you right back, my ringer was off. Um, I am fine. I am going to a clinic, I am actually there now. Um, there is to be no communication the first week, so that the clients can focus solely on their treatment. Um, my cell phone will probably be taken, so you probably shouldn't call this number. As I said Marie knows where I am and if you need to let me know anything, just tell her. I will write you soon, very soon. I know you may not believe me but I really love you. Bye."

End of Message.

I entered the clinic and was escorted to a room for processing. My phone, wallet, belt, shoe laces, and iPod were taken and locked away. The contents of my luggage were searched. I submitted a urine sample and was given a physical examine.

After we completed the admittance process, I was shown to my room. It was a smallish room. There was a large window, a full size bed, a night stand, a dresser, a chair, and a desk. There was a small bathroom, with a toilet, shower and sink.

I put away my belongings and looked out the window. There was a nice view of the water. I stood and gazed for a while, until I was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was a staff member. She wanted to give me a copy of my schedule and review the rules and expectations, and so on.

After she finished she gave me a tour of the facility and introduced me to some of the other staff members and clients. When we finished the tour, I returned to my room until dinner. Then I observed a group therapy session. In truth, as I listened to some of the clients, I started to doubt if I was supposed to be there. Their problems seemed to be so much more severe than mine, and their lives were in such disarray.

I began to think that I had overreacted, that maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed. I mean I was doing well. I had that great promotion. I have a nice apartment. I have saved a lot of money. I had done everything exactly as I planned, and in addition, I had Blake and he really loved me, so what the hell was I doing here. I mean these are the type of people that I work with at the hospital, not me.

I conduct group therapy sessions, not participate in them. I should be happy and grateful for my life. I have a great life.

Once the group session was over I began towards my room. On the way I nearly bumped into someone. She was a short woman, about 5 foot 2 inches. She had bright red hair, which was shaved on the sides in a type of Mohawk style. She had pretty dark green eyes.

"Excuse me." I said.

"Oh, that's okay. You new here?" She asked.

"Yes, I arrived late this afternoon." I explained.

"My name is Cassandra but everybody calls me Cassie." She said as she extended her hand.

As I took her hand in mine I saw that she had scars around her wrist and there were scratches on her forearm, some of which looked rather fresh. I stopped myself from staring and with a smile said, "My name is Steven, nice to meet you Cassie."

"I'm in 207, where are you?" Cassie asked.

"I'm in 212." I said.

"Oh, cool, we're kinda neighbors. I'm going to the rec room to play pool, if you need anything let me know." Cassie said.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." I said.

We continued on our separate ways. I went back to my room and read over the literature that I received about the facility. It was the standard information; I had passed the same type of documents to families when I was completing an admission at the hospital.

I lay on the bed and thought of Blake and my family. I knew that my family would not approve of me being at the clinic. I thought about things for a while, and then decided to call it an early night. The next day I completed my hygiene and went to breakfast.

After I received my food, I went to an empty table to eat, but was waved over to another by Cassie. I went and sat with her and two other people. The first was a young man; he looked to be about 20 or so. He had piercings in his lip, nose, and above his eyebrow. He also boasted some impressive tattoos. He was a slender guy, I couldn't be certain of how tall he was because he was sitting, Cassie introduced him as Tristan.

The second guy was a heavy guy. He looked to be around my age. He had a chubby baby face and wore glasses. He had sad eyes, but beyond the sadness there was kindness. He was smiling broadly. Again, I couldn't really be certain of his height because he too was sitting. Cassie introduced him as Ricky.

We ate breakfast and talked as we ate.

"So, Steven what you in for?" Tristan asked.

"In for, it isn't prison." I said with a laugh.

"This must be your first time; my family has had me in and out of these places since I was six." Tristan said.

"Oh, well, yes this is my first time. I just need to get a few things sorted out." I said.

"What things?" Tristan asked.

"I think that information is best left to me." I replied.

"Tristan, don't be an ass." Cassie exclaimed.

"Hey we all need help; the first step is admitting there is a problem." Tristan said in a sarcastic tone.

"Yeah, I admit that you are the fucking problem." Cassie retorted.

"Sorry, Steven, these guys can get a little expressive, but they are good people." Ricky said.

"Well, there is nothing wrong with self-expression." I said.

"Okay, to demonstrate my sincerity, I will tell you why I am here. I use drugs and am into goth. They say I have a chemical imbalance that causes me to behave badly. Apparently, walking around naked and drinking animal blood is wrong, but if I had fried it up, it would have been fine." Tristan said.

They talked further about other clients and impending activities. I just observed, smiling from time to time and adding a comment here and there.

Later that morning I attended my first therapy session, with Dr. Meltzer, a clinical psychologist. We began with the usual introductions. He directed me to a chair and he sat across from me. It was a cozy little room, with warm colored walls and generic art.

Dr. Meltzer smiled kindly at me and said, "So, why don't you tell me about yourself."

I produced a small notepad from my pocket and began, "Okay, well, I don't want to waste time so I'll just jump right in." I paused. "I was sexually abused by my uncle my grandmother knew and I believe my mother suspected. My parents were pretty negligent and have a tumultuous relationship, that often involved verbal and emotional abuse, and physical violence, but that waned over time. I have four siblings, three older half sisters and a younger brother. Um, I am gay and I have recently entered into a monogamous relationship and I actually just recently consummated that relationship with penetrative sex, with me as the recipient, it was my first time since my childhood." I took moment to read my notes. "Okay, I think those are all of the major issues, next is diagnostics. I have been very depressed for many years, starting with the sexual assault. I believe the symptoms are consistent with post traumatic stress syndrome which has caused an acute depression, which may rise to the level of clinical depression or could possibly be considered bipolar disorder, but that is such the trend diagnosis these days." I smiled. "Um, there are also some avoidance and intimacy issues that require address. But I think that should be sufficient for now." I said.

Dr. Meltzer smiled and took a breath, "Well."

"What? Did I go too fast, would like me to clarify anything?" I asked.

"No, I understand. It is just, usually the client starts with where they were born, what they do, and things of that nature." He explained.

"Oh, well, I have already divulged that information during the admission process and I was under the impression that it would be included in my file, and that you would have access to all of that. So, I had no desire to cover that ground again, especially since it is the least of importance." I said.

"I understand. You say that you want to jump right in?" He asked.

"Correct, that is why I made this outline, I want to accomplish as much as possible. I want the session to be goal oriented, so we can realize the best outcome." I explained.

"Steven, therapy is not time sensitive; it varies from person to person. I understand your desire to get everything in order but it may take more time than you anticipate." He said.

"Doctor, I am aware of how these things are done, I am in nursing and I specialize in psychiatric care. Now the difference between me and many others is that I realize I have some issues and I own that, so we won't need to waste any time with denial. I just need some assistance regarding emotional management. I am here to get these past issues resolved so I can continue to move forward." I said bluntly.

"I see and how do you think we should go about this?" He asked.

"I think we should focus on behavioral modification, cognitive development, things that will enable me to better manage my feelings, I mean because the problem lies with me and I know I can get it corrected." I proclaimed.

"Steven, have you considered that your issues may be deeper than you are able to convey?" He asked.

"I don't understand, I think I have established that the issues are pretty significant." I said.

"What, I mean is you seem very detached from the emotional aspects of the issues. You state them with apparent indifference." He said.

"Would you prefer that I cried doctor, would that convince you that I am attached?" I said.

"I do not want to upset you; I simply want to express my initial observation." He explained.

"Doctor, the issues are apparent there is no need to become overly emotional about them, I don't feel that that would help anything." I said.

"Okay, maybe we should move on. You stated that your uncle had sexually assaulted you. Could you elaborate on that, when it happened, how long?" He asked.

I took a deep breath and sighed, "Well, um, the actual assault happened when I was five, but there was fondling that had occurred first, and that went on for quite awhile. It is difficult to give an age, it was so long ago, but I would say the fondling started when I was about 3 or 4. It started as tickling or sitting on his lap or wrestling, but over time he started working his way lower and lower." I explained.

"Could you describe the assault?" He asked.

"Sure. Um, it was anal. The first time we were playing a game, it was a game I had made up, it was similar to hide and seek. My uncle was hiding and I found him and then he chased me." I paused. "It's funny, it was a really, weird kind of day. It must have been the start of winter, you know when it begins to get dark early, the sky was darkening and there were these beautiful dark pink streaks in the sky. I could feel that something was going to happen," I paused, "you know that surreal feeling, like something isn't right. Anyway, I was running and in a moment I went from happy to frightened, I had knots in my stomach. We ran in to the living room and he caught me and pushed me against the sofa. He wrestled with me for a few minutes, in a playful way. The way he always did, but soon he had me pinned against the sofa on my knees." I stopped.

"Would you like to come back to this later?" He asked.

"No. I was wearing a long tee shirt, um, it was probably his or my aunt's. Many times I would be dropped off over my grandmother's house for a visit and would end up spending the night, so usually I slept in a tee shirt." I paused. "He, um, started to touch me, it all happened so fast. He had me pent over the sofa and had pulled my underwear down and he started to insert himself into me. I think he said that he wanted to try something new, I may have agreed, I am not sure. But I remember when he started I felt the worst pain I had ever experienced and I told him to stop. I was struggling to get free but he was so strong I couldn't. He just kept on and he was begging me to let him, to stay still." I paused. "Once he had, um, once he had completely inserted himself into me, I lost all of my breath, it felt as if someone had punched me in the gut, you know that feeling when hit your funny bone and you feel sick and light headed. My eyes were full of water and I couldn't speak. I couldn't comprehend what was happening to me. I just lay there motionless as he finished his business." There was a long pause. "Afterwards he just left me there, he always rushed off after, maybe in shame or to clean up, I don't know, but he left me there bent over the sofa with my underwear about my knees." There was silence.

"At some point he came back and he was just begging me not to tell and saying how sorry he was. He just seemed so pitiful, and he kept begging and begging. I remember just sitting there, with my insides aching, and listening to him but not really hearing what he was saying. I didn't cry. I just sat there with my arms wrapped around my knees and my eyes on the floor, rocking back and forth." I paused.

"That was that." I said.

"I think that we should stop here." He said.

"Okay." I said.

"I think that this was a very good start. During the next session I want to discuss this further, I would also like to explore your feelings about what happened and about your uncle. So, I would like for you to give that some serious thought, perhaps write your feelings down." He suggested.

"Alright, Doctor." I said.

He stood up and walked me to the door. I was scheduled for a meditation class about an hour after my session and a group therapy session after lunch. Since I had an hour I decided to go to the chapel. I don't know if I went to pray or if I just thought it would be quiet, but I went. It was a dimly lit room. At the front there was an altar and there was a table with candles and a statue of the Madonna, as well as a crucifix with Jesus on it.

I wasn't particularly religious, but I had grown up believing that there was a God. I hoped there was one, that there was some reason for life. I sat in the chapel in complete silence and felt some semblance of safety and strength. Rather it was from God or from the tranquility of the room, that is a matter of personal perspective, but I was at peace in the chapel.

Later, I attended the meditation class. It was okay. There was a lot of new age music and stretching and visualizing peace, at least that is what the instructor wanted us to do. Oh, and to find our center, she kept mentioning that also. When, I left I felt completely relaxed.

I went back to my room for a while and then had lunch and went for a walk. Next it was time for my group therapy session. I was not at all pleased with the prospect of group therapy, I almost didn't go, but I committed to the program and I said should at least make an attempt. It turned out that this group dealt specifically with sexual abuse. I noticed that Ricky was in this group.

As I had done the day before, I mostly observed. I was asked to introduce myself, and I did, which completed my contribution to the group. Some of the members would argue amongst themselves at times and the group leader would have to mediate.

When the group was finished I attended an exercise class, a team work activity, and went to the recreation room to watch television. Many of the channels were blocked; I guess they wanted to prevent any negative concepts from interfering with our treatment. I went to dinner and sat with Cassie and Ricky, Tristan wasn't there.

After dinner I played pool with Cassie and Ricky. Then I went for a walk around the grounds. I attended another group therapy session, and observed. The next day I had breakfast and attended my second therapy session.

"Hello Steven." Dr. Meltzer greeted with a smile.

"Good Morning doctor." I said.

We sat across from each other.

"So, how are you feeling today?" He asked.

"I feel fine. Thank you." I said.

"Last time we talked about your uncle, you explained the first assault. I would like to discuss that further." He said.

"Okay. I think I told you everything about the initial experience, what would you like me to say?" I asked.

"I want you to discuss the progression of the abuse." He said.

"Okay. Well, um, after the first time, he continued. I spent a lot of time with him, he watched me after school and on weekends. So, he would make advances toward me and when I refused he would force himself on me. The first times were struggles, but over time I stopped fighting. It was almost like we had a schedule. Every day after school, usually on the living room floor. Depending on how long we were left alone, it might happen two or three times a day." I said.

"What were you thinking while it was happening?" He asked.

"I don't know, the first time I was shocked, maybe I shocked the first few times, but over time I didn't really think about it, I knew that it was going to happen. While it was happening, I would just be lost in my own thoughts. Over time I couldn't even feel it, I mean I would have pains after, but during I just stayed still and let him do his business. The television was usually on, cartoons." I paused. "The more time went on the more he wanted to try different things. He would call me to his room and play pornography movies and asked me to try this or that. He would beg, please, please, just try it. He just would never leave me alone." I explained.

"What about your grandmother, you mentioned she knew?" He asked.

"Yes, one day she came home early and caught us." I said.

"What was her reaction?" He asked.

"He stopped and she physically accosted him." I said.

"Was there any interaction or conversation between you and your grandmother about what happened?" He asked.

"She took me into her room and told me that it was over, I don't recall her exact words but that was the gist of it." I said.

"But it didn't stop?" He asked.

"No. It went on for years after. She would even call and ask if he was `bothering me', I mean he would be standing right next to me. What was I to say, yes? She caught us another time, this time we were in his room and he climbed off of me and we scrambled to put our clothes on. We were dressed when she came in, but she knew that something was going on. She asked point blank. He denied and I did too. She took me in her room and asked me in private but I still denied it." I explained.

"Why did you deny it?" He asked.

I thought about it for a moment, "I didn't feel that she had the right to ask me. She knew what was happening and she didn't help me. I loved my grandmother. She was like my favorite person, and when I needed her she just left me." I paused. "When she caught us the first time, I just knew that everything was going to be okay, that she was going to save me, but she didn't. She left me with him. Just like my mother." I said.

"Like your mother?" He inquired.

"I felt my mother knew." I paused. "I was always begging her not to go over there and I was crying all the time. My whole personality changed, when I was home I would sleep all day. There would be days that I would go around the house in the same clothes for the entire weekend. My school counselor even advised that I should see someone." I paused. "Once she was taking me over there and as usual I was tearfully begging her not to take me and she looked back at me and she asked why, and I just looked at her and I couldn't say. So she yelled why at me, and we looked in each other's eyes and I know that she knew. She started to cry to and she went and bought cigarettes. She never smoked and she smoked a cigarette, cleaned her face and took me there anyway." I paused. "I couldn't believe it. That night I sat in the hallway and cried and rocked back and forth until I fell asleep. After that night, I stopped resisting. I let him do what he wanted and stopped expecting someone to rescue me. I accepted it as my life, no more tears." I said.

"You accepted it as your life, how old were you?" He asked.

"Um, about seven, maybe eight." I said.

"Tell me about your relationship with your mother." He instructed.

"It is not good." I paused. "I don't really know what happened, it was like one day she just started treating really badly. Especially after she and daddy had a separation." I said.

"When did they separate?" He asked.

"When I was eight. One day I came home and all of our stuff was in boxes. She took me and my brother to her mother's and the next day we moved into our new apartment, just like that." I said.

"How did her treatment of you change?" He asked.

"She was just angry all the time. She was always yelling at me and calling stupid, saying that act like a bitch. Over time I had more responsibility, when I was nine I started washing all the clothes and doing the ironing. I would be at home alone with my brother for a few hours at night and I would have to get us both bathed and ready for bed." I paused. "It just didn't matter what I did, she always seemed to be yelling at me or hitting me for one thing or another. I remember just being so nervous when I heard the door knob turn. My stomach would be in knots." I paused. "Sometimes she would be happy, but you never knew which she would be. One day she would be screaming at me and hitting me, the next she wanted to spend time with me. It was insane." I explained.

"What about your father?" He asked.

"We were actually close at first. He has a very fun and charming way about him. I loved being with him, he was fun and nice, and he always gave us what we asked for. But when he and my mother separated he stopped spending time with us. He would say he was coming to get us, me and my brother. We would get dressed and wait but he would never show. Or we would call and he wouldn't answer the phone. Sometimes my mother would literally chase him down and dump us off on him, and then he would drop us off at his mother's house." I paused. "When we first moved to the new apartment, I would always tell my mother I wished he was there or that I rather be with him. She would say that he didn't want me, at first I ignored her but after he continued to lie to us and break his promises, I stopped getting dressed to go with him and if he showed, which he seldom did, I would just stay home." I explained.

"I asked you to think about your feelings about your molestation. Can we discuss that?" He asked.

"Of course, um, it was a terrible event. It is unfortunate that it occurred and that it lasted so long." I said.

"Yes, but how do you feel about it?" He asked.

"I just told you, it was an unfortunate occurrence. I wish it had never happened." I said.

"Were you angry or sad?" He inquired.

"I suppose." I said.

"Earlier in the session, when you were discussing your grandmother, when she discovered what was happening, you said that she `caught us'." He said.

"Yes, she caught us." I confirmed.

"Well, that conveys a certain level of responsibility." He said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"When you said caught us, it made it seem as if you feel some responsibility for the molestation. Do you think that you are in some way responsible for your abuse?" He asked.

"I think you are putting a lot of importance on a couple of words." I said.

"Okay. How do you feel about your uncle?" He asked.

"I think that he made a horrible mistake, that he was obviously a troubled person. Um, he had been abused and he continued the cycle." I said.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"Yes. That is all doctor." I said dryly.

"You said that he had been abused, could you explain?" He asked.

"His half-brother, no relation to me, sexually abused him." I said.

"Do you feel that his abuse justifies yours?" He asked.

"No, I simply meant that his abuse probably clouded his judgment." I said.

"When did you learn of his abuse?" He asked.

"He told me years later. I had run into him at a shop, I was 16. He came to me and told me that he had been abused and that had been the reason for his behavior." I said.

"Did he express any remorse?" He asked.

"No, he just said that he had been abused, which was the reason he abused me." I said.

"How did that make you feel?" He asked.

"I don't know. Sorry for him I guess." I said.

"Steven, I think we can stop here for today. Tonight I want you to seriously think about your feelings regarding your uncle and what he did." He instructed.

"You want me to do it again?" I asked.

"Yes. I think that we need to focus on how you feel about the abuse, it is important." He said.

"Fine." I said.

He walked me to the door and told me to have a good day.

For the next four weeks our sessions were focused on my sexual abuse and how the people around me handled it and how I felt. Dr. Meltzer, apparently thought that I was detached from my feelings and that until I could get in touch with my real feelings regarding the abuse and my family, that my progress would be hindered.

Honestly, it was beginning to annoy me. I continued to answer his questions but he continued to ask the same questions over and over again. In addition to my individual therapy sessions, I was also attending several group therapy sessions, and an art therapy and music therapy class. As well as a meditation course and trust building classes.

I had become rather close with Cassie and Ricky. We would usually spend our free time playing pool with each other or talking. Tristan would join us from time to time. It was all becoming somewhat normal being there, but I still constantly thought of Blake.

After, the first week Marie was able to call and she told me about Blake and the rest of our friends. I had been writing Blake once a week and sent him cards, but we had not spoken. I only heard about him and from him through Marie, and she would always say that he loved me and missed me.

Then, one day I received a package from Marie with a letter from Blake enclosed. I went to my room and lay across my bed. I opened the letter and began to read it.

Special thanks to Oscar, Arch, Clayton, Gary, Khalid, Fred, Vern, Joseph, Jake, Michael, JT and Mikal for their encouraging comments, I am extremely grateful.

Sincerest thanks to Nifty and all of the wonderful participants who make this site possible, from the generous donors to the archivists and administrators, you all are truly appreciated.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think, please forward any comments or feedback to bonotorros@yahoo.com.