Page 122 of Exiled
All the shit they put me through, trying to turn me straight, make a godly man of me, finally funneled into words that are actually heard.
With every horror spoken, the easier my words come out, and the lighter I feel. Like with each truth unleashed, another seal cracks open, freeing me from the chains they put me in.
Before I know it the ten minutes are up, and while I’m far from done, much less healed, Dr. Maddock smiles, tells me it was a good session, gives me my homework, and tells me she’ll see me Wednesday afternoon.
Another thing that changed? I now see Dr. Maddock three times a week, Monday and Friday mornings, with an added Wednesday afternoon session following group.
It was actually Nolan who encouraged it. That following Saturday, after breakfast, we met up just like we agreed to the night before when we said our goodbyes. We hung out at the cove for a little, but I’d be lying if I said we didn’t spend the majority of the day naked in his bed.
And in the shower.
We had a lot of showers that day, and most of them were not spent getting clean.
And while at first I wasn’t so sure about it, the seed had been planted and at my session Monday morning, bright and early, once I realized Dr. Maddock washappywith me, not disappointed, I just…went for it.
She was even happier after that, and we got me all set up for extra sessions.
“What brought this on?”I remember her asking me.
I didn’t quite know what to tell her at first, but then the more I opened up about things like my parents and how they treated me, what past doctors said about me, and what they all did to try and “help” me…
It just sort of clicked that, well, it’s not on them anymore.
Like I insisted so many times to Nolan, I’mnota kid. I’m an adult now. I’m not locked away in some reform school. Or chained to a chair in a dark, musty basement, getting drugs injected into me while I’m forced to watch weird videos meant to brainwash me.
I’m not getting zapped for getting ill-timed boners when presented with pictures of naked men, or thrown in isolation rooms while speakers crackle with high-pitched buzzing interwoven with looped prayers.
I don’t have to watch other boys get beat while we stand around in a circle shaming them, calling them horrible names.
I’m free.
And I have a chance here—a real chance—to finally be heard and take life by the reins.
Dr. Maddock promised me as much that first day when she shredded my file.
A blank slate.
If I have any chance of getting out from under my parents’ thumb when I get out of here, I need to have a game plan. I can’t keep waiting for things to miraculously get better and work out.
You’re the ruler of your destiny.
Yeah, I read that in a fortune cookie last week, but it holds true.
This ismylife. Not my parents’.
So my top priority these days has been figuring out why I’m the way I am and treating the real problem, not the one caused by adults looking for quick, easy fixes.
They failed me…
But I don’t have to fail myself.
After I leave Dr. Maddock’s office, I run up to my room quick to freshen up. I woke up late, barely had time to grab a coffee before I had to get to my 8 o’clock appointment.
Nolan’s waiting for me down at the restaurant, and we grab a big breakfast from the buffet line to bring back to his room.
“How was therapy?” he asks, holding his tray out so they drop some scrambled eggs into one of his to-go containers.
“Good,” I say, grabbing a muffin. “My homework before Wednesday is to do one thing I normally wouldn’t because of fear someone would punish me for it. Could be anything.”