Envy of the broken.

It’s been 3 days. Been sitting in for sessions, with Friday being particularly hectic. There was a morning session with my direct supervisor (for now at least) and a double session with another counsellor that I’ve been attached to for observation. Group sessions can be emotionally and mentally draining due to the fact that one has to observe group dynamics among multiple members, remember interactions, deliver a lesson using Cognitive Behavioural Therapy techniques, check for understanding and later proceed to document what went on during the session. I have immensely high respect for the counsellors, especially for my current direct supervisor – since she has to look out for me as well.

She brought me on a tour to explore the different workstations, activity venues and the living quarters. It was an eye-opening experience, despite the fact that it was merely within one cluster and it is obviously modelled very differently from the complexes that have a higher level of security. Those, apparently, are much more similiar to what you would see on Prisonbreak. I’m grateful also that she takes times to explain several functions and structures of the place, clarifies my concerns and that she has shared her life experiences from working in two different settings. I feel very disarmed when I’m speaking to her and I find myself sharing more about myself than I normally would. But I’m glad that because of that, I’m learning so much more than I would have if I had chosen to be passive.

Working there continues to change me, into hopefully a better person. I was sharing with numerous people about my experience thus far and how I see in the inmates, characteristics or experiences that I might never obtain in this lifetime. Perhaps it is as I say, I’m envious that they’re so broken, that they have been brought to a point where they have lost everything, but are willing to pick themselves up to start over. I’m envious also that despite that circumstance, have found the strength to love and respect themselves anew, putting aside the judgements and stigma that others impose on them. The sharings are so open, vulnerable and supportive, despite the all-male group. Sometimes I think they’re twice the men I see and know on the outside. They remind me really, of the beauty of brokenness and how it brings us to a recognition of our need for God.

It’s been a nonstop activity-filled week since work started, beginning with shopping and informal dinners. Had a full and fruitful leader’s meeting thursay night, although we might have pigged out more than our supposed discussion cum evaluation. But it was mighty fun, ending this quarter on a rather high note and realising that since stepping up, we’ve served an entire year together. I’m glad I did because I don’t think I would know them as well as I do now, having seen the good, the bad and the ugly.

Cell chalet stretched over from Friday into Saturday and I’m proud to say that my old and ageing body was able to last the whole night through, with the help of the Coffee Club and the after-midnight Starbucks. (yes, it is rather pathetic that I get high on coffee.) Taboo was insanely funny and bridge was the mental addiction mind game of the night and morning. By morning, my brain was still in hyperactivity but my legs could hardly hold me up. I really am too old for this.

It wasn’t all peachy though and there were a few things that disturbed me, saddened me mostly. I was disappointed and yes, it was written all over my face, since I can’t hide how I feel at all. Insensitivity irks me. Plus, there were realisations of how people have changed and how subtly we’ve grown apart. Sometimes I think I stop myself from expecting better from other people, just so I don’t get affected. And then I think, maybe I don’t want to care enough to be.

The talk by the poolside was one of the highlights of the night, as we reminisced of how we’ve changed and grown over 5 years of friendship. I’m always grateful to share life with you, to give ear to your struggles and to encourage one another as we keep trusting that God knows best. That it’s no longer others’ expectation influencing the person you’ve come to be, but you choosing to be the person you now want to be. It’s been high time, that new ‘you’ be allowed to emerge.

“I’m giving you my heart, and all that is within
I lay it all down for the sake of you my King
I’m giving you my dreams, I’m laying down my rights
I’m giving up my pride for the promise of new life

And I surrender all to you, all to you
And I surrender all to you, all to you”

Because when I stand before the brink of eternity, none of this will matter.
I’m a bit jaded. I can’t help but feel I’m tired of hope.

The verse of the postcard spoke to my heart,
‘You guide me with you counsel, leading me to a glorious destiny.’ Ps 73:24
Thus, may it be so.

In other news, I’m so glad you’re home!

The stupid man at the gate (main).

T’was a memorable first day. (I really should end here, lest I breach confidentiality.)

I never knew the undisclosed location spreads over a large expanse of land, consisting of 16 institutional complexes. I think I can forgo regular running for the next two weeks because I forsee that walking from cluster to cluster will get me all the exercise that I need. Although, colleagues who tempt me with yummy teatime sandwiches (oh so cheap) and caffeine fixes might break my resolve.

I’ve never been inside high security areas, unless the Parliament House or Airport customs count. But today, I got a really cool staff pass identifying me as a student intern (and other things that I cannot say) – just so I won’t have to stand at the HQ guardhouse every morning, and wait to be picked up like the obligatory morning paper. It’s so cool I don’t ever want to surrender it. I do however, have to surrender my IC in order to store all my possessions inside a locker because I can’t bring in my phone, electronic devices or money. Payment for food is by cashcard. I find this arrangement pretty smashing, since I have a legitimate excuse for being uncontactable for a large part of the day, instead of admitting that I forgot I actually have a phone. Plus, I can’t mask vodka in my speedo bottle and pretend it’s water since I’m only supposed to bring in an empty bottle and fill it up there. Darn.

Its locked gates, barbed fences and uniformed guards all around and I can’t help but feel safe, but yet so locked in.

I do not like one guard at the main gate. He scrutinised my IC and gave me an incredulous look while asking, “You’re 21? Don’t look like…” And I thought working attire would have helped. Although, this does not rank as high up as when I accompanied my sister for her Sec 1 orientation and got mistaken as such.

The work environment is amazing. Counsellors are just about the most positive, nurturing and delightful people in the whole wide world. I’m going to end up fat and happy.

I got to sit in to observe a group session. And although I can’t pen down details, I’m glad that I finally see how group work pratice is applied in the context of group counselling. I was able to observe group dynamics at play and to observe how positive peer influence can generate a supportive, affirming environment that motivate positive change. I also had to let go of a lot of my stereotypes and misconceptions about the clientale in a rehabilitative setting and unbashedly admit that there is so much I have not seen and so much that I do not know. But maybe it is as the counsellor said to me in the beginning when I confided in her about my fears, that we don’t pretend to know, because we don’t. That for all that mastery of theories, tools and skills – it all comes to naught if we fail to establish a firm partnership, acknowledging that our sheltered worlds offer us a very narrow view. No matter how hard we try, those who stand outside of those bars cannot claim to know what it’s like behind bars. I won’t pretend I know.

Mother Teresa once said, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” I feel as if I have my own battles to fight, to suspend and break through my own impressions and prejudices, only that I might grow in a genuine understanding, respect and love for these people. When I stepped in this morning, I was struck cold with uncertainty and fear. But sitting in and listening to the heartfelt reflections and insights, I halted the warm tears that tried to slip out of my eyes. I realised this people really do know more than I do -

They learn from and reflect on their mistakes,
They lower their defences and share openness,
They affirm, support and believe the best in one another,
They are humble, gentle even – And love motivates them to change
They believe in change, in miracles (for both themselves and others)
And they’re willing to give themselves a second chance.

And that is already more than I can say for myself.

Why?

I’ve always been safe, always been guarded.
As I move forward to reach in behind bars,
There’s inner unchained prisons to deal with,
Broken locks on open doors – I’m moving in
Their world’s so much bigger than all the places
I’ve ever been.

This is the strongbox of discontent, growth and inane ramblings.

And I’m getting cold feet.