One Last Session

I have agreed to do one counseling session, but all I intended to share was his tidbit of information: if my counselor had not been a woman, I would never have lasted this long. I am surrounded my men because of my incarceration and this is in some ways, a microcosm of the outside world. So this means I am exposed to brilliance, idiocy, filth and uneducated and undereducated MEN. The environment alone lends itself to depression and we who inhabit it have ugly life stories. So when a woman comes around, it is like a ray of sunlight shining through metaphorical darkness. Their presence lifts our spirits, but beware, we have to gauge ourselves very closely since crossing that line is very dangerous because the outcome will be very unpleasant.

I appreciated sitting in her presence and listening to a female voice was very enticing, but I can no longer do that. For a moment in time, I did need it because of my relationship struggles with my fiancée, Julie, so I needed to lean on someone but now I’m back to my normal self and as usual I detach easily and I am not quick to trust others. I have other female friends in my life, such as Mia, whom I trusted but now seems to have another agenda.

So I do not on plan on returning to counseling. Primarily because of our ethnic differences and she is younger than I am and very pristine. So what can she possibly tell me? I’m a 38 year-old Black man, convicted felon, former drug user and labeled as a member of the Black Guerilla Family, and the son of an American. My counselor and I have nothing in common; how could she ever provide meaningful counsel or advice?

I am not that extreme, but I do know my reality and the counselors of the CA criminal justice system will not help me; however, I do believe that God, my real friends and my family can.