Left In Good Spirits

by Anne Pleydon

  “You people.” Kenny sips her coffee. “What are your thoughts on Cody?”

  Baird is pleased to be asked his opinion. He says, “Cody’s interesting if he could stop trying to set himself on fire every five minutes. He lost his father to suicide and his mother died of an overdose a couple years ago. You know he’s related to half the kids in there, right?”

  “I wish I could see him. I would love to work with an arsonist again,” she says, cupping her coffee. “But it would be stepping on someone’s toes and that kid is so not interested right now. I’ll take Helmcken, though.”

  “How many kids do you have?”

  She smiles and looks away. Then she narrows her gaze on him. “So ...are you gonna apply for the case management position?”

  He exhales sharply. This is what he doesn’t like about this lunch. He cannot quickly disengage from Kenny as he can when they’re on the phone or at the jail.

  “Ah, there’s a story there.” She laughs. “Weren’t you already a case manager at one time? What was that about?”

  He studies her face because he can’t tell what she knows. Finally, he says, “Well, now, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

  “Fuck off. Tell me. Tell me!”

  “No, there’s nothing.” He is satisfied that she doesn’t know what happened with him before. “I think they’re looking for some university graduate types.”

  “You have university,” she says. “What am I missing here? You better tell me. You have to tell me.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything,” he says. He always bristles at any display of power no matter how light-hearted.

  “You owe me.”

  “How the hell do I owe you anything?” his voice is low.

  “Okay, take it easy. I’m joking.” She pauses and then starts again, “Oh, you have your sights set on the Superintendent’s job!”

  He laughs despite himself.

  “But, back to the case management,” she says. “You know you’d be amazing at that. You should have Clearwater’s job. Then you’d be my boss.” He enjoys that her voice sounds playful and mocking.

  “I can’t tell when you’re being serious,” he says. His gaze is unrelenting and finally Kenny looks away and throws up her arms.

  “I’m serious for fuck’s sake. Why don’t you ever believe me when I’m being serious?”

  Baird puts the paper napkin in the sandwich bag and crumples it up. He places his coffee in front of him on the table.

  “So, what’s the gossip?” she says, folding her hands in front of her and looking wide-eyed.

  “I don’t gossip. I don’t care who’s fucking who.”

  “Not that kind of gossip. I mean with who’ll be the Super and all.”

  “Oh. I dunno.”

  “I hear it’s between Stevens and Clearwater.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “Stevens should get it.”

  “Do you guys get along?”

  “I’m not part of that crowd.”

  “That crowd? Gimme a break. I’ve seen you with Ron. You are crazy respected. You’re up his ass day and night.”

  “Yeah.” He is amused.

  “And Clearwater?”

  “My mother taught me if I didn’t have anything nice to say,” he says.

  “Yeah, right. You’d be mute if you followed that advice.”

  “I think she’s playing for the other team if you get my drift with those shoulders and that farm girl laugh.” Baird does an impression of Clearwater’s laugh and his throaty bellow catches the attention of the others in the cafe.

  Kenny covers her face. “Oh my god. I didn’t realize she sounded like that. But don’t be an ass. What the fuck is wrong with her playing for the other team?”

  “Nothing,” he says, as he rises from the table, grabbing his coffee. “She’s all yours.”

  “Wait,” she says, clutching her coffee, and adds as they reach the door. “I forgot to run something by you.”

  “What?”

  “Well, more like a favour. A huge favour. Oh my god, I can see you tensing up. Why are you getting so paranoid?”

  “What’s the favour?” he asks, as they’re getting into his truck.

  Once in their seats, Kenny says, “My student. She’s starting this week and I would really like her to spend some time on a unit so she can see something besides the inside of a therapy room.”

  “She can come to 3,” he says. Even though he hates students, he is willing to do that for Kenny.

  “Oh thank you. Seriously, I appreciate it. She wants to watch you in action.”

  “Gimme a break.”

  “So, I’ll email you when I figure out a time.”

  They drive back in silence. Something about the truck’s cabin stifles his words. But he doesn’t usually talk first anyway.

  Chapter 6

  LAURA SITS IN THE STUDENT office with books and policy binders piled neatly in front of her. She finished reading policy her first day although she did not absorb much. When reading policy, she tries to pay extra attention to anything relating to the clinical team but the rest of it simply does not interest her. Kenny has also given her some books on crime and recidivism, as well as some clinical files. Laura has one client file open in front of her. The file is on a teenager named Noah Farewell who was sentenced to Merivale for murder more than a decade ago. She finds therapy notes far more interesting to read. She feels almost as though she is eavesdropping or reading someone’s diary. She likes to try and imagine how the session unfolded and what were the exact words said. The therapy sessions seem much more in depth than the brief cognitive-behavioural therapy for anxiety and depression that she had done in previous practica. How does Kenny know what to say about all these other topics that came up in session?

  Laura adjusts her cardigan, sighs, and looks up at the ceiling. It’s almost 9am and she feels forgotten and like a bother to everyone. She hates the beginning of practicum placements as there is not much she can do independently. She still does not feel comfortable walking around the facility alone. She goes directly from the front door to her office and no where else. She especially feels out of place and in the way whenever she passes a frontline staff.

  Suddenly, Kenny swings into her office holding a white file folder open in front of her. There is a single yellow sheet inside. “So I have this referral to see this Helmcken kid. He’s never been interested in therapy. Ever. So we’ll probably get a refusal but it’ll be interesting for you to see. We’ll see him when he’s no longer drug sick.”

  “Okay.” Laura says. Kenny sits on the edge of the desk and stares directly into Laura’s eyes.

  “How are you doing with all your reading? Are you bored yet?”

  Laura shakes her head. “No. It’s interesting. This guy has a lot of therapy notes. Dr. Halpin, what does this mean?” Laura asks, pointing to the file. “You write, ‘Left in good spirits’ a lot at the end of your session notes.”

  Kenny’s rolls her eyes. “I read that in someone else’s notes once when I was a student and now I use it. Do not tell me how often or I will kill myself.”

  “Does it mean they’re happy?”

  Kenny scrunches up her face. “Hmmm. No. It’s not our jobs to cheer people up. Basically, you don’t want your client leaving session significantly angry, distressed, or happy. Change is less likely to occur. If they’re wildly angry or happy there is little self-reflection going on.”

  “But what if they’re still upset at the end? Don’t we want them to leave feeling better than when they came in?”

  “That is an inexperienced therapist’s tendency to want to put people back together before they leave. That’s really about getting the client to make you feel better about the session. The client has no investment in the session itself going well. They don’t give a shit. They care about themselves, and maybe you, but not the session. Un
less they’re borderline. It’s you that wants to feel good about the session itself. If you feel that desire to get reassurance from your client that you did okay or that everything’s okay between you, that’s a counter-transference issue. That’s your shit and it’s come into the session. You get that reassurance from a colleague later when you debrief and they’ll call you on your shit and help you through it.”

  “Oh,” Laura responds. “Okay.”

  Kenny continues, “But that aside, you want some level of dissonance in your client and if you see it, don’t take it away from them. Ideally your client isn’t leaving in a rage or highly upset, but it happens. Kids storm out all the time. You need to tell them prior to an explosion that you expect that to happen and how the two of you will handle it when it does. You basically want them to leave feeling like their brain is somewhat tired and they have a feeling of a slight eeeegh in their stomach. That’s the sweet spot.”

  “But what if they leave all suicidal?”

  “Well, you do your best to assess that risk and emphasize ways to cope, and put a risk management plan in place. You put them on suicide risk and notify the facility. This is the safest place for them to be if they’re suicidal. Physically, anyway. No suicides here, yet.” Kenny knocks on the wooden desk.

  “But we contract?”

  “You contract for safety because that’s what we do and policy wants it and it covers your ass policy-wise. But research doesn’t actually support the use of it. Theoretically, it’s supposed to give them the permission to think about those thoughts without acting on them and all that crap. But, you know. Whatever. When you look at the risk factors and when we assess, we don’t ask, ‘Have you promised someone lately that you wouldn’t kill yourself?’ Regardless, it’s harmless, just not necessarily helpful. It helps with a plan and them knowing they’ll see you again and that relationship piece. And all of it implicitly, or explicitly, shows them that talking about that stuff does not freak you out. So, you must do it. Don’t repeat what I just told you by the way. I will never admit I told you that contracting is bullshit. Just do it.”

  “I think it would freak me out if someone committed suicide,” Laura returns.

  “Yeah, it sounds like the worst. Or finding out a former client is dead or been killed. That is difficult. We can talk about that later. But as for a suicide, it hasn’t happened to me, yet. I’ve had attempts but no completes.” Kenny knocks on the desk, again.

  Laura’s eyes remain on the therapy note in front of her. Kenny continues, “Left in good spirits is just a catchall to capture that they left without anything notable or remarkable going on in their presentation after their time with me. They didn’t leave happy or distressed. They may have been beaten up - metaphorically - but they aren’t broken. They left intact. ”

  “But what if they’re mad at you?”

  “Good. Welcome it. Not in a sadistic way but because it’s useful. Share with them your experience of what it feels like to have them angry with you if you’re there in your relationship. In the beginning, they might not be able to express their anger appropriately. If you take away all expression of it, then you’re left with nothing. That’s not good. Something about you is triggering their shit. They don’t trust mental health professionals, they’re not motivated, they’re interpreting it all as a power play. Get in there and label it if you can. If you’re inexperienced or if you’ve had a really long-term relationship with a client, you will feel an urge to set things right, especially right there and then. But don’t make up and soothe. Fight the urge to set things straight. You need to sit in the discomfort of it. Build up their tolerance as well as yours of being in conflict with someone. Trusting that you’re coming back. You are coming back no matter what. That is a trust and security they need to learn about you. They can’t learn it unless they told you to go fuck yourself and you came back and processed it with them without punishing them. Do you understand?”

  Laura feels her heart start to race a bit and says, “Wow. I will never learn all of this stuff!”

  Kenny smiles and tosses her head a bit. Laura likes that she has pleased her supervisor.

  Kenny says, “You will.” The psychologist starts to look at the referral again, but Laura feels more questions and doubts rising, flooding into her chest.

  Laura asks, “What about failure? I mean, so many of these kids come back, you said. Don’t you get discouraged?”

  “That’s why we do a little thing called redefining success in forensics. It’s not up to us to define what success is although we do tend to define it in terms of recidivism for simplicity sake. And in research, of course.”

  “Like minimizing harm. Harm reduction?”

  “That’s what the substance abuse folks talk about. And it’s kind of like that. But success is also defined within a Good Lives Model, do you have that book with you? Tony Ward. Oh good. Instead of looking at the absence of negative behaviours we look at the presence of protective factors. These guys here, right now?” Her supervisor wipes her hand across the air. “Almost all will re-offend. It can feel like a revolving door.”

  Laura senses her supervisor is lost in thought. She waits until she can wait no longer.

  “What’s it all about, then?” Laura asks.

  “Damn, that’s deep, Laura. And I haven’t even finished my coffee.”

  Laura feels red and warmth spread across her face, neck, and upper chest.

  Kenny continues, “Well, keep in mind that anything is a re-offence if they’re on probation. Using drugs and alcohol again, associating with delinquents, any breach. That’s a crime. It’s about managing risk for violence. If I can help get a kid to where he is less likely to be violent toward himself or others, then that’s success. You know, like, kid, if you could just stop taking a knife to yourself and others when things get fucked up, then I’ll be happy. If his next charge is a breach for curfew rather than a new charge for murder, then that’s success.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Like, please stop stabbing people.” Kenny laughs at her own joke. “You can think of their lives on a trajectory. You might want them to go right angles but that’s not going to happen here. That doesn’t happen here. We offer a little nudge that shifts that trajectory somewhat and increases their responsiveness and opportunity to other resources and experiences down that new trajectory and those things nudge and then so on and so on.”

  “Okay.”

  “And worst case scenario, we’re the ones that let the courts know who can’t be nudged or refused to be nudged or need to be nudged while they’re in jail.”

  “Do you think everyone can change?”

  “I don’t know.” Kenny sighs. Then, she says, “No, I don’t. Some people need to be managed, in whatever form that is, by others for the rest of their lives or at least, a very long time after we see them. Sometimes the best we can do is get them to a place where they have the capacity to build the relationships with and take direction from the people who are going to help them manage that risk. That could be a parent, or group home, or therapist. Whoever. And that’s okay. It really is. And then there are people who just need to be ... manage-managed. You know. We’re talking throw away the key.”

  Laura nods. “Wow.”

  “Yep. Anyway, I’ve talked your ear off. I need caffeine, big time. I want you to read those books. That Borum one about risk is like the bible and this one about the Good Lives Model. And this book, Making Good, by Maruna. I have such a geek crush on him. Do not tell anyone. His book is important. It’s about desisters. People who stop offending and what makes them different. But more importantly how they define themselves and weave that change into the narrative they have about their lives. We’ll chat about it later. I have to pee.” Kenny hops off the desk and disappears around down the hall. Laura returns to Noah Farewell’s therapy notes. She wants to see what will happen to him next.

  Chapter 7

  LAURA TWISTS THE LANYARD around her fingers
as she leans her hip on the School Control desk. For a moment, she feels like her supervisor. Here I am, she thinks. In a jail. And seeing clients that most just read about in the paper.

  “Yes?” says the staff with the goatee. He is stone-faced. She blanks for a second his name. Oh right, that’s Wolcott, and he always looks mean.

  Laura moves away the desk. “Oh, I’m just waiting for Dr. Halpin.”

  “Wait by the chairs, please. We need to keep this area clear.”

  Flushing in the face, Laura starts to walk toward the chairs in the middle of the Rotunda when she sees Kenny’s slight frame coming through the mental health doors. She sees Kenny’s eyes dart from Laura’s face to the staff at School Control and her supervisor’s jaw sets. Kenny raises her brows and says to Laura, “Having fun?”

  Laura smiles, “Yep.” They stand next to the chairs. Kenny does not sit, so Laura continues to stand as well.

  “So, what we’re going to do is take you over to 3 and you’ll spend the rest of the morning with Mr. Baird. I don’t know if they have programming or not. Hopefully.”

  “Hey, doc!”

  Laura turns to see a slim First Nations youth with a wry smile and wearing work gloves saunter through the Rotunda. He approaches them, and Laura takes a step back. He says to Kenny, “How come you never come talk to me?”

  “You would come to me, Cody” Kenny responds. Laura notices how happy her supervisor looks as she chats with this youth.

  “I know you have your favourites. How come you never call me to see you, then?” he asks.

  “You need to fill in a referral,” Kenny answers, shaking her head.

  “What’s a referral?”

  “Ask your staff. You fill out a paper and tell me all the details of your life on there. And then mail it to me. And I will get back to you in a couple weeks.”

  “Are you fuckin’ serious?” Cody exclaims as he adjusts the gloves on his hands. He keeps glancing out on the yard and at the main doors to the boys’ units.