On my first day in Montgomery, I had to be rushed to the hospital.
After Jefferson County, my public defender asked whether I would be willing to go to Montgomery Behavioral Health. I jumped so fast I nearly left a cartoon outline of myself in the cinder block wall.
Here is what I found. My own room. No roommates. Nobody shouting down to the fifth floor. A large screen television, and I held the remote. No floor manager. Just a man and his remote control, the way God and the Founding Fathers intended.
And real food, clearly made for human consumption. I checked. It came from a great chef named Tish. Tish would never have let me eat an egg with the shell on. Tish had standards.
But I had brought a stowaway from Jefferson County: a massive hernia. For weeks I could not eat because the food was terrible. Now the food was wonderful, and every time I ate, the hernia acted up. God has a sense of humor. Sometimes it takes me a few business days to get the joke.
Most people take a day to locate the ice machine. I went straight for the emergency room tour. They took care of me, brought me back, and I got on with getting better.
I completed sixty-eight days in a row. I have never done sixty-eight days of anything in a row, except possibly worrying. My court date kept getting postponed. My court date and I were like two ships passing in the night, except one kept rescheduling.
The people were the best part. Counselors Raven, Nick, and Jasmine listened and taught and kept a straight face while I explained my life choices. My case manager, Jamee, spelled J-A-M-E-E, kept my situation straight when I could not. Nurses Stormy and Rachel took very good care of me. Stormy is a great name for a nurse. It is either a warning or a promise. In her case it was a promise.
In social emotional learning classes I discovered that naming a feeling is easier than letting it drive the bus. I had been letting my feelings drive for decades, and they did not have a license.
On September 29th I walked out with new friends and more wisdom than I walked in with. He sent people. That is how He usually works. Not thunder from the sky, but a chef, some counselors, a case manager, and a couple of nurses doing their jobs with kindness.
The next chapter came later, on paper. I received an administrative discharge from outpatient therapy. It is the beige of discharges. And I am okay with it.
Not because I do not believe in therapy. I have learned things about myself in treatment I would not have learned any other way, a few of which I would have preferred not to learn at all. Some of the strongest people on earth are the ones willing to admit they need help. I am in that group. I just took the long way to the meeting.
But at some point the structure designed to help you rebuild your life can keep you from rebuilding it. Therapy from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. every weekday leaves little time for earning a living, rebuilding a business, recovering from surgery, handling legal matters, and paying bills. The mountain of responsibilities did not disappear while I was away. I checked. It had grown.
The official reason was attendance inconsistencies. I have been called inconsistent by teachers, bandmates, and at least one former employer, so this was not breaking news. The program needed attendance I could no longer give. I needed time for things that could not wait. Neither of those makes the other wrong.
Being discharged is not being cured. I still need accountability, fellowship, and people who will tell me the truth. And I still need God. He has not issued me any kind of discharge. His program has relaxed attendance requirements and no graduation date.
When Jesus healed the man at the pool of Bethesda, He did not say, attend this pool from nine to three, Monday through Friday. He said walk. Not everyone is ready to walk at the same time, and there is no shame in needing more time. But for me, this was another transition.
Was the discharge honorable or dishonorable? Neither. It was administrative. Nobody played taps. But getting better and getting on with your life are not supposed to compete. They are the same journey.
To Tish, Raven, Nick, Jasmine, Jamee, Stormy, and Rachel: thank you. And to my court date, wherever you are tonight: I will see you when you are ready. I am a much more patient man now.
“Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk.”
John 5:8 (KJV)
— JC
Leave a Reply