Support Group - March 2021

[tramitem]

Who: OPEN (Including to all the new characters who app throughout the month)
What: Bureau Run, Non-Mandatory Support Group
When: There are meetings at various times during the week, whatever works for your character between 8 am and 10 pm
Where: There are meetings at various locations around NYC, whatever works for your character
Rating/Warnings: We ask that players put appropriate warning labels in the subject lines of their threads as they become necessary


There’s a generic spread of food on a table off to one side of the room: donuts, muffins, bagels, and cookies; coffee, lemonade, water, and because one of the Different asked for it, hot chocolate. Maybe you’re hungry enough to try it—it’s free after all.

Or maybe you can’t stomach anything, given the event you’re attending.

The space is a local rec center. The beige-painted cinder block walls and the fluorescent lighting are a terrible combination. Maybe they are reminiscent of the public school you attended in your youth?

Why are you here? Curiosity? Maybe the Bureau official will say something that will help you make sense of things? The meeting was interesting—who knew there were so many people like you, receiving memories of a past life? The group was led by someone from The Bureau—the Department of Medical Services. Some people are staying in their chairs and chatting—they must know each other from previous meetings. Some of them are gravitating towards the food.

How do you feel about tonight? Has it helped you come to terms with the dream of memories you’re having? Maybe it’s time to talk to others, get an understanding of their experience.

Comments

[phdmotherfucker]

Harleen was more hesitant to openly criticize during the sessions, but now that Martin had broken the seal. Well. Well, she had been thinking the same thing all along, right? And if nobody ever said anything, it couldn't get better.

"A support group isn't totally without merit. Being Different," she cringed at saying it with the capital-D, "is an isolating experience, because the Bureau enforces secrecy. But without individual therapy, more ... more curated groups, there's no progress to be made. As it is, these sessions aren't support so much as a headcount."

She looked away from the therapist's hard stare about halfway through speaking her mind and flushed from embarrassment. She frowned and folded her hands over her knee, staring at her knuckles.

[not_as_i_do]

Realizing that neither of them were going to get anywhere with the topic, Martin got up from his chair and relocated to an empty one near Harley, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder as the others picked up their hum-drum discussions from before he'd interrupted.

"You're right, you know," he said quietly. "A friend of mine is thinking of a plan that we could run ourselves which might be of a little more use. If you're interested."

[phdmotherfucker]

She went stiff under his touch and jumped a little in surprise.

"Maybe I am."

[not_as_i_do]

"Sorry." He held up his hands, then clasped them together and set them in his lap. "I didn't mean to - er. Anyway. I can message you the details? We haven't actually finalized anything yet, still waiting to get in touch with some people who'll make it possible."

[phdmotherfucker]

"No, you're fine, I was just surprised." She plucked at the hem of her sleeve and eyed him warily. "I'm not agreeing to anything, or committing myself to it. But I'll hear you out."

[not_as_i_do]

He nodded in understanding, forcing himself to curb his enthusiasm for the project a little. She was a researcher, she dealt in facts, not emotionally-charged pitches.

"What we want," he said, keeping his voice low, "is a safe space where the Different can gather and talk to each other about their experiences without the 'big brother' feeling of the Bureau sitting within spitting distance. My friend is a licensed psychologist who's one of us, and he's willing to help mediate or meet with people individually ... and since some people are experiencing physical changes as well, I'm throwing my hat in the ring as a medical professional."

[phdmotherfucker]

She leaned in closer to hear him, their legs pressed together. Hopefully it looked like a heartfelt moment of community support and not outright conspiring against the establishment.

"And you're telling me this why? To give me hope that help is coming eventually somewhere down the road, or rope me into helping?"

[not_as_i_do]

"No roping, just keeping you informed." He gave her a reassuring but grave smile, to fit the tone of the small ruse they were trying to project. "If you do eventually want to help, I'm sure Bailey would appreciate the help, but no one's going to force you into anything."

[phdmotherfucker]

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, partly to sell the act and partly because she was just so damn tired, and sighed heavily.

"Yeah, definitely keep me updated."

[not_as_i_do]

His shoulder was warm and comfortable, thanks to that thick cable-knit cardigan. He held the moment in silence, making it seem as if there was a moment of solemnity.

"Of course. ... You look tired. It's hard to sleep with all of this, I know." Maybe the ruse wasn't completely one, after all. "Have you tried anything over-the-counter? Melatonin, et cetera?"

[phdmotherfucker]

"Yeah. Whiskey." She huffed a laugh and closed her eyes. For all she worked to project the image of a strong professional at work, she had a deeply snuggly core. "Your sweater is really soft."

[not_as_i_do]

He chuckled quietly, the sound a deep rumble beneath her head. "That works pretty well, too, but as a medical professional, I wasn't going to go straight toward it when giving out advice."

At her comment about the sweater, he smiled. "It is! I've been wearing it quite a bit for that exact reason. Do you know, it showed up out of the blue one day in my closet. Couldn't remember buying it or getting it as a gift from anyone. But it's in a lot of my memories, so I think ... it was important to me then. Somehow."

[phdmotherfucker]

"I'm a doctor too so it's fine." Doctors don't have to actually follow their own advice. It was one of the perks traded for astounding medical school debt.

She rubbed her cheek against the yarn and sighed. "Might just grab a quick nap right here."