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// Welcome to Frewville: More Dispatches from Tacie-Town
| 04/29/2005 - 7:45 p.m. |

so, i finally finished part 3.
well, not exactly finished.
actually this is only a first draft.
but last night was the last i could hand in anything and still get feedback by our 1-on-1 conferences.
but, at least i DO have the gist of it down now.

also got a (much needed) bit of nice news.
the lit mag is out, and they published Two of my pieces.
poems actually, "Looming" and "Being"
my first time being published and all, so i was moderately psyched.


~~~~~~~~~~

Submitted to ACW Class: Thu, 4/28/05

Welcome to Frewville: Part 3: More Dispatches from Tacie-Town

Day 30

10am: Mini-team

I am sitting in my usual chair next to Rosenberg�s desk. Problem is Dr. Bowtie, whom I have previously talked to for a grand total of zero minutes, occupies her chair. Facing me is a three-person firing squad composed of the nutritionist who I-swear-to-fucking-god keeps raising my calories out of pure spite; the nurse that takes notes during a goddamn daily hey-what�s up-"contact" conversation; and the bitch that kicked me out of her office yesterday.

I stare at the door. They talk at me. Between rounds, I spat today�s mantra. "I have nothing to say�I don�t care�I�m done�Whatever."

Four-against-one and they surrender by 10:10. I smoke a pair of cigs and just happen to be the first arrival for Tacie�s group at 10:30.

She says to me, "M., I�m going to be around for a while today. If you want to talk, will you come by or leave a note under my door?"

"You told me to leave. I won�t be crawling back."

She lets out a Tacie-sigh�pissy and frustrated�just as the rest of the group starts wandering in.

~~~~~

I stand in the dining room doorway, watching the clock, waiting for lunch to be officially over. I walk out at 12:59:55. I am Frewville�s badass-of-the-month and everything, ya know�Riiiigghht.

There is a note for me in the day patients� mailbox.

M.:
I scheduled an appt for you on Monday, 2/23/04 @ 1pm.
I hope you will be able to keep it.
Also, you are welcome to stop in today. I don�t think that cut offs or expressing your anger & distress in this manner is helpful.
Think about it!
Tacie


She is sitting outside the nurses� station when I head out for my post-lunch smoke-fest.

"I left you a note in your box�"

"I got it," I cut her off and turn to gesture for A**, a fellow patient and sycophant of Tacie�s, to hurry up.

After a double dose of death-hastening tar, I go back inside The Residence. Upstairs, the "Do Not Disturb, In Session" sign is up on Tacie�s door. My stomach hurts.

I�m supposed to go to "Creating Your Life" group this afternoon. What a fucking joke.

I settle into a corner chair in the upstairs "living room," scribbling this very nonsense in my Tootsie Roll journal. It came complete with a scratch-n-sniff eraser and chocolate-colored ink pen that I drained within my first week here...

I bought it last summer at the same time I got one for best friend S. during her briefer foray into Frewville. Hers has Charms on it, ala her Throwing Muses theme song, Me and My Charms...

My mind wanders back a few more months. She had come to visit me in Oakland for a long weekend and just finished cutting off six inches of my hair before dying it Ronald McDonald red...It was a mere ten days before my last "treatment team" would make two (failed) attempts in one day to commit me. I would be declared a Missing Person by nightfall.

...We were flying across the Bay Bridge to the San Francisco Airport and blasting Ani Difranco, screaming along and thumping our palms on the roof of my car.

You might keep me from being happy,
But you�re not gonna stop me from HAVING FUN

A sudden wave of nausea jolts me back to the present. I have an urgent need to get to a bathroom�Oh that was a nice big one. A nice big shit, that is. Bowel movements are a cause for celebration here in Frewville. Their occurrence or lack thereof is as acceptable a topic for small talk as the weather or them Phils.

I�m feeling much better now. Yes, that is why I proceed to shove my fist down my throat and bring up a shamefully minuscule portion of what they call food here.

Like, who DOES that? Like, now the goddamn toilet is stopped up. I bust outta there like a burglar to the getaway car.

It�s 2:10 now and the "In Session" sign is still up on Tacie�s door. When is it exactly that I am "welcome to stop in today"??!

Like, fuck me. And my stomach still hurts.

I go outside for another smoke. I am nearly done my cigarette when Tacie walks out the door, strolls on over and sits next to me in The Gazebo.

"This is my last attempt for the day."

"I was just upstairs. Walked by your door a few times, but the sign was up."

"I�m really glad to hear that. Do you want to come up?"

"I guess."

She makes a quick trip to The Manor House for a cup of coffee. I wait until I see her coming back towards The Residence and walk in a bit ahead, up to her office.

I think she is actually supposed to be seeing M***** right now, because I hear her leave a message at the nurses� station that she is running late. Hah! Take that, ya sticks-for-legs.

"So. What do you think my intention was yesterday?"

"I don�t know what it was, but I took it as: Oh what, I�m supposed to come crawling back all upset or something? I don�t think so."

I�m not exactly right, but not far off. She was trying to provoke me, make me angry. And hoping I would come back with the anger, thoughts, something to say. "It obviously didn�t work, but I want you to know my intent was to provoke. I wasn�t just being mean."

I make eye contact for the first time since I had seen her come outside. "Oh, but that was clearly in there too."

"What do you mean?"

"That little dig about my �platform��clearly meant to wound."

That was not her intent, she claims. It was also to get me angry, but not to be hurtful.

"No, in that instance, I don�t see there being much difference between intent to provoke and intent to hurt."

"I genuinely care about you," Tacie says. "I�m not just saying this. I�m really do care about you." It�s hard to see me suffering so much, so depressed, in pain, etc. "And I don�t know if I�ve been any help at all, but I am truly sorry if I have added to it in any way, specifically in the past day or so."

"Ok," I say.

"Ok what?"

I shrug. "Apology accepted?"

"Ok."

Told you there wouldn�t be any crawling or begging. On my part, anyway...

A lot of vague talk follows about my caring vs. not caring, not wanting to be here yet still showing up, the constant push/pull.

Tacie furthers her return to my good graces by seeming to "get" what I am expressing despite my inability to articulate it.

The closest I come to coherent is when I tell her, "I don�t want to emotionally invest in something that�s over in a week."

"Well, the only difference is we won�t be coming together here, like this," she counters. "�The relationship� doesn�t end."

I respond with the mother of all eye rolls.

When I am leaving, she says, "Well, you might not think of me this weekend, but I will definitely be thinking about YOU and hoping you find a way to take care of yourself."

"No. Please don�t. Don�t think about me. It�s so not worth it."

I don�t get a clear look at the expression on her face; only hear a tentative sounding, "Ok."

And I am closing the door behind me...



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