On meetings with The Enforcer

So today I had my one-on-one with one of the higher-ups here in town. (I am leaving out her name for her protection, but I will henceforth refer to her as “The Enforcer,” or T.E. for short. I know you can go to my program’s website and see her picture, but just work with me on this, okay? I feel kind of guilty about posting this here, she’d be offended if she read it, but I need to get it OUT OF ME. And I want you to understand what I’m dealing with here.)

Anyway, T.E. and I had a discussion about my lack of interest in writing weekly reflections. Here in my little world, every week we are expected to write about the events of the past week and our feelings about them in something like six different areas of our lives. Or we can just write a little something and hand it in to T.E. (This comes from Rule #845,326 in the handbook. Hmm, wouldn’t it be nice if the handbook actually told us things that would be absolutely, positively, non-negotiably required before we got here? Novel idea, I know.)

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I had begun reflecting on these reflections and my feelings about them. The main feeling I remember having was that I was tired of writing them, and didn’t see the point in it. So, I mentioned this in my reflection for the week and handed it in. I even went so far as to ask for some explanation on why I was required to write them. “What’s the point?” I asked.

T.E. sometimes comments on our reflections, and to this one she basically said, “Well, if you don’t know by now, with seven weeks left in the year, I’m not going to tell you.”

Which caused one reaction that I can remember, namely, “Fine. Obviously you have no good reason for this and I can’t think of any, so I’m going to quit doing it.” I didn’t think it would be a huge deal.

So I quit writing weekly reflections. And today during my one-one-one, which is a time when I sit down with T.E. once a month and tell her what I’ve already been writing in my reflections for the past four weeks (yes, all of the girls in the city meet with her, Rule #43), she brought up my comments about weekly reflections. She even said she was pissed off.

“Um, yeah, I could tell,” I said.

Now here’s where this turns from a perfectly logical, coherent conversation into something all about feelings. Which was not helpful to me at all. Here’s what I mean: T.E. proceeds to say that she must have told us all countless times that we write these things to keep her informed, but most importantly because reading them is how she feels loved. And she works very had on them.

And then I said something to the effect of, “Okay. But I’ve never seen any good come out of them. And you’ve even pretty much quit commenting on them. So why do I write them?”

At which point she insinuates that perhaps I’m not getting much out because I’m not putting enough in. And I’m thinking, “What else should I put in? I mean, I’m not going to tell you if I’m doing something that’s against the rules or something that might even possibly be against the rules. I really don’t trust you and our conversations are awkward. Therefore I don’t want to have to talk to you any more than necessary, so I’m not going to include anything that warrants a ‘conversation.’ Pretty much everything else about my non-exciting life goes in there.”

And then she looks like she’s going to tear up. So I don’t say any of that logical stuff (remember, this is not a logical conversation, anyway.) I do tell her, however, that I didn’t mean to insult her or insinuate that she’s not doing a good job, but I still don’t see why this is important, how it benefits me.

At this point she says that it benefits her, and I just have to trust that, whether I see the results or not. And that I have to do these reflections because it’s part of my program here. (Here’s where she threatens me.) And if I’m not going to do required parts of the program, well, then. . .

“Now it sounds like I’m threatening you,” she says.

“Yes,” I say, “I’m interested to hear the rest of that sentence.”

But she never finishes it. Just keeps talking about how I have to do this because I’m here.

And if this had been a logical conversation, I would have said, “C’mon, T.E. Are you going to KICK ME OUT with a month to go because I won’t write you a piece of paper once a week?” But remember, this is not logical.

(Now some of you may be wondering, “Why does she care if she gets kicked out? This program has been nothing but pain to her anyway.” At which point I would say, “Yes, that’s true. But I’ve made it this far, and I have some things to finish in the month of July, some camps to go to, some more footcare to perform, some people to tell good-bye. And darnit, I’m gonna FINISH THIS THING I STARTED, IF IT KILLS ME! And now it looks like it might.”)

And so I think about it. And how important it is to her. And how this is her “love language,” and I tell her that I’ll do this. For her. Not because she has convinced me in any way and certainly not because I see the point.

So afterwards I came back to the clinic and cried a little (WHAT AM I DOING HERE?) and then I called Barbie. Who said that being the bigger person is rarely fun. I said it is NEVER fun.

I am sick and tired of Christians. I am just tired of people, too. People are pains. And loving painful people is, well, not very pleasant.

I’m going to eat myself to death. Or drown myself in a huge vat of chocolate. Sounds good to me.

During lunch today I told God that I’d do this, that I’d love her, but I wouldn’t like it. To which he replied, “That’s okay, because you’re in Oakland. And in Oakland, we have joy, not fun.”