Child Therapy

Here I was attending this “special course” I was signed up from that day with the pencil. I was sent to the classroom which happened to be all the way in front of the school by my old kinder classroom around 9 or 10 AM every Tuesday and Thursday. I remember walking to the classroom, with my sheet that they gave me with the class number highlighted Room A6, to let me know where I needed to go. Once arriving to the class, I would meet with Mr. and Mrs. R, they were a very nice couple and very welcoming. They had me sit down on a tiny table where there was different options of color pencils and crayons, sheets of blank paper, a notebook and cookies. We all sat down and they began to introduce themselves, I remember along the lines as “Welcome Stephany, we are Mr. and Mrs. R, this will be a special course, you’ll come every Tuesday and Thursday around the same time, here you’ll get to color and draw and tell stories, we're here to help you learn about yourself and teach you new fun things, are you excited?” I was more skeptical than excited, but I answered them with my best cheerful voice “yes!”

Little me, was honestly relieved to be away from the regular class room setting and from the other kids. Although, always on alert in this classroom, I didn't know what this classroom was for and why was I to attend? They allowed me to color, and let me settle in, I was having fun just enjoying coloring and playing with the toys that were around the classroom. I always enjoyed the little kitchen set and tea set that they had, I had always found it so cute.

I had noticed that they were taking things slow and allowing me my time, perhaps not to rush me or try to not spook me. I'd noticed that Mr. R would leave the room occasionally and return looking at paperwork. While Mrs. R would stay with me or be around me and ask, “What are you drawing?” Or what do you feel like drawing today?” or "Are we having fun?" As I continued to draw and continued playing without answering, she would randomly tell me how she was feeling and would try and ask me if I could relate to those feelings, if I ever felt happy, sad, angry, alone. She would take her time and give me time to answer her, and she would try and bribe me with cookies and snacks to open up further. I would accept the cookies and snacks and all she offered but I still answered limited—bad habit to this day. I would open up after a while so they wouldn't question me further and still get some answers they were asking for.

Moving along now, after the first couple of months of this “special course”, I started feeling comfortable, and actually looked forward meeting with the R’s, I wondered what they would ask about or bring up this time. This time it was a special day, it was the first day I learned about a journal and what it is used for.

“You like books right Stephany?” Mr. R asked.

“yes, books are fun” Little me replied.

“Well this is a special book, it’s your book!” Mrs. R said.

“really?? My book?” Little me asked.

“Yes, your book. You can write everything you want in this book, you can write when you feel anything like whenever you feel sad, alone, or you have something in your mind.” Mrs. R. Replied.

“This special book will be with you all the time and you can bring it here when you see us and it’ll stay with us one day every week, we will look it over and keep your books safe okay?” Mr. R. asked.

“okay!” Little me answered.

I was particularly excited to have this book thing called journal, it was my book, my journal and it would hold my secrets. I could use it when ever I wanted, it was my one place to escape, it was my friend when I needed and the thing, I could count on to share everything that bothered me or where I could vent to when no one around me would try to listen. I grew very found of this journal thing that I started writing my first two weeks of entries. I learned that I really enjoyed writing— I still use a journal to this day! But I somehow feared that if someone where to find my little book, I would get into trouble or I would get bullied even more.

After my first few weeks with my journal, it was time to bring it to therapy. I was hesitant to bring it with me because I still felt like I’d get into trouble, but I remembered the promise Mr. R made, they would keep it safe—oh how little me was so naive. The following day I brought it and gave it to Mrs. R. The hour had gone by quicker then usual, and I was asked the same questions, “How are you today Stephany?” And the usual coloring and snacks, playtime, the difference of today though was that this time they had me share about my experience with journaling.

“How did you enjoy your book these weeks Stephany?” Asked Mr. R.

“i had fun! I really like my book, I wrote a lot of secrets.” Little me said.

“We’re glad you’re enjoying it” He said.

After that I left back to class and leaving my journal behind with them, thinking my journal would be safe I had felt content, not knowing what was to come.

The following week back to therapy, Mr. and Mrs. R. were acting a little weird, it wasn’t their usual happy jolly selves. Instead, they were more serious and it confused me, had something happened? Walking through the doors, this time there wasn’t colors or sheets of papers or toys waiting for me, instead there was a folder with paperwork, and I was asked to sit down, I was screwed. I knew my journal would get me into trouble. I sat waiting for The Ravens to sit and interrogate me, about my journal. Which one of my own secrets betrayed me, and why did they have to read it?? That feeling sparked within me. Was it fear? Was it Anger? everything was slowing dimming, tingling, numbing.

I sat there on the table a part of me lost in my head and the other watching the Ravens very carefully. They grabbed my journal from the desk, and both sat down across from me.

Ah here it comes little me thought.

“Stephany we need to talk.”

.