At exactly eight o’clock, the session began.
A well-dressed woman introduced herself as Sheila and then sat down in a special chair at the front of the room. She said that she was a social worker and would be leading many of the morning and evening group therapy sessions.
Sheila told us to each introduce ourselves and our diagnoses, and then to talk about anything that we wished to share with the group.
One man raised his hand and volunteered to begin. He was a large, pale man with a soft, childlike voice and demeanor. He introduced himself as Antonio and said that his diagnosis was depression, and then he said that he was sad because he had been having a hard day. Strangely, that was all he had to say.
Sheila asked him to explain more about why he had a hard day. He told the group that he had spent the entire day alone in his room and felt depressed as a result.
Other patients in the group told him to come out of his room next time to talk. Some said that they would like to be friends with him.
I felt bad for Antonio but didn’t say anything because I honestly didn’t want to be his friend. I didn’t want to be friends with anyone else in the group, for that matter.