So...psych.
I sat in on a session of group therapy at an inpatient facility that houses adolescents and children with psychiatric illness. Essentially, its a small group of boys and girls that meets with a facilitator, a therapist in this case, and these adolescents freely discuss their struggles, their stressors, with their peers. Surprisingly, in the group they open up and talk unguarded about what they face. On one of the days I sat in, an adolescent boy came in. He was new here. His first day. Sat at the end of the long table. Quite. Polite. When it became his turn to talk, he shifted in his chair and admitted he was struggling with suicidal thoughts and depression that has haunted him for years. Diving deeper into the conversation, he spoke of a history of abuse. A constant feeling like he wasn't good enough. Never good enough. His grades weren't good enough... My heart stopped when he said his grades weren't good enough.... It was familiar for I knew the feeling. I know the ...