Sierra talks - sort of

Sierra had a sit-down chat with Julia Simpson, the female counselor Dr. Bill appointed.  Ms. Simpson has a bachelor's degree in child and adolescent psych, and Dr. Bill thought a woman might be better able to relate to our daughter.  It was difficult for us to acknowledge that Sierra has serious issues, needs professional help, and frankly, time away from society.  It was hard for us to realize that she was becoming a dangerous person, both to herself and to others.  She was doing things that made us shake our heads.

Our daughter was on the verge of psychosis.  How did this happen?

"Good morning, Sierra," Julia said in a sweet voice.  Her dark hair was pulled back in a neat bun.
When Sierra replied, she had already said more to her than she ever said to Dr. Bill. 
"The way the Dr. described you, I expected a big, strong, tough person.  Instead I see a tall, athletically built young blonde girl with an angelic looking face and huge blue eyes.
"Now, I've read your record, Sierra, you've got quite a rap sheet, arrests for breaking and entering, malicious destruction of property, curfew violations, truancy, assault, and you added to it in the past few days, that's why we were called in.

"Just in the past few days, Sierra, you were caught sleeping in a sleeping bag outside of a movie theater and again in the aisle of a crowded bowling alley.  You were caught on two separate occasions using the men's bathroom in your dormitory.  You had a disastrous outing with a young man that ended with a fight at a campus nightclub.  You were arrested for spraying graffiti on the wall of a building on campus.
"Your record is extensive, Sierra.  You started skipping school at age seven.  At nine, you were suspended from school for letting the frogs loose from your science class and they ended up all over school.  There are suspensions for fighting, constant pranks, and talking back to the teachers.  The day after your thirteenth birthday, you were arrested for malicious destruction of property, throwing eggs at the door of an elderly couple's house and causing six thousand simoleans worth of damage to their swimming pool.  Your older brother ended up in the hospital because he was so upset with you that he passed out while disciplining you.  You were sentenced to Fort Starch for a beating that was so vicious you put its victim in the hospital.  Your parents paid his medical bills.  On top of that, the video of the beating was posted on the internet.  Why did you beat this young man, Sierra?" 

"He said I was 'butch' and called me a 'dyke.'"
"So you beat this young man senseless because he called you a name."
"Yeah.  I got back at him and called him ugly and fat.  I was so mad, I blacked out."
"You blacked out."
"Yeah."
"According to the court records, you told the judge the beating 'felt good.'   Sierra, 'blacking out' is serious.  It means you do things without thinking of the consequences.  They're impulsive, spur of the moment.  There's really no justification for you doing that to that young man.  As I understand it, you came out to your parents the night of your senior prom.  You told them that you had been seeing a girl in your class. When you went to Fort Starch, you were forced to stop seeing her."
"Yeah."
"How did that make you feel, being forced to stop seeing her?"
"Bad."
"I bet.  You miss her, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"But your behavior caused you to be forced to stop seeing her.  Do you understand that, Sierra?"
"I -- I think so."
"Do you have any hobbies, Sierra?  Any things you like to do?"
Sierra took awhile before answering.  "I like to play sports and work out."
"Makes sense.  Your father was a pro footballer."
She got excited when she was talking about her interests.  "I like playing chess on the computer, making potions with my chemistry set --"
"You make potions?"
"Yeah.  One time I made this stink juice potion and I put it all over the school."
Julia shook her head.  "Sierra."
"It was fun watching everybody squirm."
"You take pleasure in harming people, am I correct?"
Sierra hesitated.  "I -- I think so.  I wasn't going to kill anybody, I just wanted to scare them a little bit."
"You only have one friend, Sierra, am I correct?"
Sierra nodded her head yes.
"How long have you known this friend?"
"Since we were little.  Our dads played on the soccer team."
"You're not a very social girl, and from what I understand, you prefer being by yourself."
"Yeah."
"What else do you like to do, Sierra?"
"I like to read."
"What kinds of books do you read?"
"Science fiction, mostly."
"Science fiction?"
"Yeah --"  Suddenly Sierra became more animated.  Before she'd mostly given Ms. Simpson one-word answers to questions.  "When I was twelve, I was abducted by aliens."
"Abducted -- by aliens?"

 "Yeah.  It happened in our back yard.  It was a warm, humid summer evening.  I had come from the summer festival and from kicking this one boy's butt in soccer, and I went back home.  Suddenly I heard a noise and I went outside to investigate.

 "I looked up, sure enough, it was a spaceship.

"I tried to run, I tried to escape, but the force field from the light beam was too strong, and I was sucked up."

"When I got off the ship, I found myself in this fantastical alternate universe.  I had never quite seen anything like it. 

 "I was starved, and they brought me my favorite food, which was a cheese steak sandwich.  I hadn't had a cheese steak in forever.

"While I was there I met these two boys my age named Jackson and Dmitri.  We talked about sports a lot and also about where we were.  We instantly clicked and became friends.  I felt like I was somewhere I belonged.

 

"The next morning I woke up and decided to go to the robot competition arena, where bots were fighting to the short circuit.  It was awesome.  I loved seeing the sparks flying.  I decided, right then and there, that I wanted one of my own."

 "When I got back home, only about an hour had passed in the regular realm, but I had been in this alternate universe at least a couple days.

"I tried to get back to my regular life, going fishing...

...and exploring the catacombs in the cemetery at night.

"I even encountered a zombie or two.  They were a big snore, not scary at all, just standing there moaning and groaning."

"I did everything in my power to communicate with Jackson and Dmitri but to no avail.  I tried to devise a potion to send myself to that world on demand, but was unsuccessful and kept burning myself.

"I found that everyday life bored me.  For the next few years I began to dream myself back to that world, to try to re-envision it like I had seen before."

 
"Sierra, have you thought about journaling?"
Sierra gave Ms. Simpson a puzzled look.  "Journaling?"
"Yeah, writing down your thoughts and feelings.  And especially writing about that fantastical experience you had. I'm saying, for the sake of argument, that it happened. It's clear to me that this experience has affected your entire being.  It's affected how you look at the world, how you live life.   Perhaps writing about it could help you deal with it.   I'm going to give you an assignment.  I want to you write down some of your experiences in that futuristic world of yours, and bring it back when you come to the office. 

A Difficult Decision

"Sierra... has pretty much no social skills whatsoever...spends most of her time alone...doesn't even like socializing...completely lacks empathy...has an extremely short fuse...is chronologically seventeen but emotionally about seven...has a genius IQ but failed in school...is a pyromaniac...is fascinated with aliens and science fiction."

That's not me talking, that's Dr. Bill, in his assessment of my daughter Sierra.  He recommended that she be placed in an intensive psychiatric treatment facility.

 You could imagine my reaction when Dr. Bill told me he was putting Sierra away.  "I'm not committing my daughter!" I shouted.

"Mrs. Cheesman, I believe it would be the best thing for all the parties involved here.  This girl is a danger to herself and to others.  She's sick.  She's mentally ill.   If she had a physical illness, you would do everything in your power to try to get her better.  The situation is the same here.  There are two young children in your home and a third on the way.  As a court mandated reporter, I am obligated to report whether dangerous conditions are occurring in your household.  Lady, I can report you to social services and have your remaining children taken away from you because you are harboring a fugitive.  All of this stress cannot be good for your unborn baby."

My graduate assistant, Connie Cronk, has taken over teaching my classes while I'm on administrative leave from the university. I had initially requested the leave due to my pregnancy but with my daughter's problems mounting, I have extended the time I'll be away from school. Dr. Simlius, the university president, has been very gracious and understanding.

 It's possible that no one has been affected by Sierra's problems more than Sage.  She's the one who found her wrapped in that sleeping bag in front of the movie theater. 

"What did they say?" Sage asked the day after Andy and I returned from the university.  "What are they going to do with Sierra?"

While I told her Sierra's diagnosis, a few hot tears began streaming down my face.  "They want to have her put in this residential treatment center.  I told them I didn't want her committed."
"Mom, she needs help."  I could hear Sage was crying, too.
I nodded my head. "I know."
"Mom, she really needs help.  You have no idea how bad off she is.  I only spent a couple days with her at school.  She cannot take care of herself.  If she doesn't get the help, she's going to die, or she's going to kill someone else."
Deep down, in my heart of hearts, I knew Sage was right.  I don't know how to help her.  I wish the professionals could at least try.

 There's a part of me that still isn't quite convinced that Sierra is mentally ill or psychotic.  She's my daughter, after all.  She came out of me.  I guess I'm still naive in that way.  If she's mentally ill then I must be, too.
She's so angry, so full of bitterness, rage, and resentment.  What can I do to make my little girl smile again?

 There are moments when she actually seems -- loving, such as when she held Skylar on her lap while she played chess on the computer.

 Or when she picked up little Sawyer and blew kisses on his little stomach.

 Or when she decided to read Skylar a bedtime story.  Granted, it was from a science fiction novel, but that's Sierra.  That's what she's into. 
It's moments like these that almost convinces me that my little girl is in there somewhere.

Then there are times when her 'extremely short fuse' gets the better of her and she becomes a person I hardly even like, let alone love.  Just the other day we were in the office and Andy was talking to her, she snapped at him so loudly and so forcefully, all of us jumped. 

Andy and I talked about the situation when we returned to Sunset Valley.
"Andy -"
Andy sighed with resignation.  "She needs to go."
I nodded my head with reluctant agreement.
"I love her.  She's my daughter, my little girl. I love her with all my heart.  But she needs specialized help, that we can't give her.  I thought Fort Starch would work but it didn't.  She got worse."

"I mean, I don't know how I didn't see the signs, Andy.  She seemed pretty normal as a kid, hit all her milestones on time -- I just don't know what happened.  I don't know how she could have fallen so far off the rails like this.  I mean, sure, as a kid she was tomboyish but nothing really out of the ordinary. She ran away a couple times when she was little but we didn't think anything of it. But her behavior lately has just gotten outrageous.  Falling asleep in front of the movie theater?  In the woods?  In the middle of a crowded bowling alley?  Not to mention, the violent outbursts --" 

"She's going to be okay, honey.  She needs this and so do we."

Okay, I've got to laugh at this one...

So my darling, sweet little girl was caught using the men's restroom in her dorm.  And apparently, it's not the first time.

She's unbothered by relieving herself in a space designated for the male members of our species.

I have to laugh at this because I did the same thing when I was her age.  In fact, it's all I can do to keep from crying. 
One day I'd gone to the library in Sunset Valley to do some research, and I decided I needed to relieve myself before I got started, so I hauled butt to the bathroom. When a guy walked in, he reminded me rather casually that I was in the men's room.
"So?" I quipped. "I use the men's room all the time. No big deal, a bathroom is a bathroom." He just shook his head and went on about his business.

Then, after I came out, I was greeted... by Andy, no less.   Yes, that Andy, as in Sierra's father.
"What are you doing coming out of the men's room?" he asked, trying - but unable - to stifle giggles.
"I had to pee.  The men's room was closer."
"Yeah," Andy muttered to himself.   "Didn't think I'd see you here today. I thought you were still on your world tour."
"Very funny, Cheesebreath. What's with the getup? Are you trying out for the Rockettes?"
He explained to me that the top was something his foster-mother had picked out for him. 

So imagine me having to tell him all these years later that his daughter - our daughter - was busted using the men's bathroom.   And you could probably imagine his reaction.
"She's your daughter," he laughed. 

The Assessment

Andy's gentle words convinced Sierra to take the assessment.  The assessment was done right there in the administrator's office.  It consisted of a brain scan underneath a scanner, while Dr. Bill analyzed a litany of brain waves. 

He took copious notes during the assessment.

"Just me and you, Sierra.  I've sent your parents away, I've sent the dean away.  Just me and you.  I've heard from your mother, I've heard from your father, I've done the brain scan, your sister sent me a 6-page letter saying she's desperate for me to help you before she buries you.  Now, I want to hear from Sierra.  What makes Sierra tick?  Tell me all about Sierra.  Who is she?  What does Sierra want out of life?"

"What was it like growing up for you, Sierra?" he began, attempting to make conversation. 

I wasn't far away, in fact, I was in the next room, hearing every word he said. 

"As I understand it, you were a middle child, with two older adopted siblings, and two older biological siblings, plus two younger siblings.  You feel like you got the short end of the stick, don't you?"

Sierra still didn't say anything.

My Watcher!  I thought at first. I can't believe she feels that way.   

But on further reflection, I did begin to realize why she probably feels this way.  Having all the kids, with their demands on my time, and all the other events happening at the time she was born (we were just getting ready to move to Hidden Springs after AJ and Imsety had been sentenced to Fort Starch), well, it could have seemed to her like I was just dragging her along.

I failed her.  I failed my little girl.  I failed her just like I failed her brother.

Sierra's silence spoke volumes. 

"You know, Sierra, of all the people I've spoken to, all the statements I've read, your sister seems to have the best grasp of how serious this situation really and truly is.  She's the one that found you wrapped in that sleeping bag in front of the movie theater, while it's freezing cold outside.  She told me the whole story.  She's afraid for your life.   But you know, this is not a Sierra problem.  This is a family problem.  The whole family dynamic is sick and it's diseased.
"I notice you didn't say anything when I mentioned your sister.  She's 6 simdays older than you, with the same blond hair and blue eyes.  You resent her, don't you?"

Again Sierra didn't say a word.

"Your parents thought she was so perfect, such a princess.  Made straight A's in school, won writing and art competitions, rode horses.  You, on the other hand, you developed a prickly skin.  You made a concerted effort to differentiate yourself from her.  You cut your hair short, started wearing your brother's clothes, then you start dying your hair a whole bunch of different colors, as if to say, 'Look at me.  I'm here. Notice me.'

"You're not saying anything because you know I'm correct.  You know I'm right.  "  

A few minutes later Dr. Bill called just me back into the room.  "Lady, I've got so much to say to you, I don't even know where to begin."
I swallowed my spit and let out a gulp.
"Do you realize this girl didn't say a gosh darn thing to me during the entire assessment?  She didn't utter one syllable.  She remained silent the entire time.  I don't ask myself why Sierra is this way, I ask myself why not?  Especially with the family dynamic as sick and diseased as it is.  Look at you, you spent all your time working, and you've as much as admitted to me when you had children, that you weren't ready to be a parent.
"That's correct, I wasn't ready to be a parent."
"And your kids suffered for it.  Your children suffered, lady, because you weren't ready to be a parent!  Your husband in there, he tried to pick up the slack, even gave up his own promising athletic career, but he alone couldn't make up for your deficiencies.  And as I understand it, you came from a dysfunctional home yourself.   No, I don't fault you for not being ready to be a parent.  How could you be?  You weren't ready because you didn't have the best examples.  And, also, as I understand it, you were a rebellious teen yourself."
"Yes, I was.  I'd be the first one to admit it."
"And, also, as I understand it, you and your mother fought constantly."
I nodded again.

"In fact...this curse of rebellion goes all the way back to your father, doesn't it?"
I took a deep breath.  "My father and grandmother had a strained relationship.  My grandfather passed away right before my father became a teenager, and my father's been affected by that pretty much ever since.  My father quit school, and my grandmother was not very happy about that."
"Your father quit school to become a musician."
"That's right."
"And so we come to you.  When you become a teenager, you become out of control."
"Absolutely.  I was sleeping in cemeteries, exploring catacombs, skipping school, staying out all night --"
"Your nephew, he becomes a teenager, he's out of control.  In fact, he comes to stay with you and your father."
"Yes."
"Your oldest son, when he becomes a teenager, he falls off the rails and he's out of control."
"Yes."
"In fact, he's so bad off, him and his older adopted brother, that he's sent away to Fort Starch.  Sierra, the young girl in question, was a toddler at the time."
"Yes.  She was still in diapers."

"Do you see the pattern here, Mrs. Cheesman?"
 I nodded my head affirmatively. 
 "I've done a complete examination on your daughter.  She is an angry, hurt, confused, lost, and most of all deeply disturbed young girl.  But I'm an incurable optimist and I believe she's fixable."
I nodded my head.  I could feel a few hot tears streaming down my face.
"She's got so much inside of her, she's like a volcano, struggling to get it all out.  You will not believe what will happen when that volcano erupts.  This has been a common thread in your entire family.  Your daughter Sierra, by her school record and from every account, she has pretty much no social skills whatsoever; she spends most of her time alone and only has one friend; doesn't even like socializing much; completely lacks empathy; has a hair-trigger temper capable of snapping at anyone at any moment; is chronologically seventeen but emotionally about seven; has a genius IQ but failed in school; and is fascinated with supernatural creatures (especially aliens) and sports.

"I'm going to have my female counselor, Ms. Simpson, meet with her here tomorrow morning in the administrative office.  I get the feeling that a woman would be better able to relate to this young girl than a crusty old man like me.  
"We can fix this girl, Mrs. Cheesman.  She's got several things going for her that a lot of my clients don't.  For starters, it's clear to me from hearing her story and from reading through the records that she's extremely intelligent, and her intellectual curiosity is off the chart.  That she sought the assistance of a psychic medium at twelve years old, that tells me a lot.  It's telling me that even at that young age she was searching for guidance and direction.  The other thing she has going for her is she has the love and support of both of her parents.  Usually I get the mother, sometimes the father, but rarely both, and I have to admit it's great to see.

"My recommendation, Mrs. Cheesman, is for her to be placed in an intensive psychiatric treatment facility.   Don't know how long it would take.   But she needs the treatment.  While she's gone, all of you need to do some serious soul-searching and work so that when she returns, it won't be to the same environment she left.
"This appears to be a family curse, each generation worse than the one before it.  This chain needs to be broken, before this girl ends up in prison, for real, and for life.  This chain must be broken, right here and right now, with this girl. "

The morning after

The very next morning, Andy and I were on a red-eye flight to Sims University.   I didn't want to go but Andy said we should and needed to go.

We met with Dr. Bill, Sierra's therapist...

...and Dr. John Simlius, the university president, in one of the administrative offices.

A few moments later our daughter showed up.  She was as defiant as ever, shooting Dr. Bill a look that would probably melt steel.

"Sit down, you two."  Dr. Bill took a deep breath.  "Here we are, once again, with a kid who is out of control.  This girl Sierra is probably ten to twenty times worse than your son, who I had.  I've reviewed her entire record, from elementary school through Fort Starch, and now this incident here at the university.  When you've got seasoned military guys at Fort Starch, people who've worked there for thirty years, saying she's one of the worst kids they've ever seen, you've got a problem.  There's something seriously, seriously wrong here, and it's our job to find out what it is."

"Dr. Bill," I felt compelled to reply, "we've been trying to tell you.  We've done everything you said.  We read all the books, we complied with the order to send her to Fort Starch, what more do you want us to do?"

"I want to do a complete psychological workup on her.  A full examination, head to toe.  I want to find out what's really going on inside her brain.  I read through that entire record, and I've listened to what the two of you, plus your older daughter Sage, have told me, and I have a suspicion that there's something neurological going on.  Something is happening inside this girl's brain that is making her behave this way." 

Next it was Dr. John Simlius, the university president.  He spoke with a thick, crusty British baritone.  "Mr. and Mrs. Cheesman, here at the university, we believe in helping young people find their way in life.  When I was contacted by Fort Starch and agreed to take your daughter on, it was with the assumption that the work had been done at the military school.  Due to her high test scores and her demonstrated athletic abilities, we believed that your daughter was an excellent candidate for our physical education program.  Unfortunately, with this arrest for defacing public property, combined with what students have reported to me of her sleeping in the hallway of the bowling alley and another incident front of the movie theater, it doesn't seem to be the case.  I do agree with Dr. Bill that an intense, rigorous psychological examination is probably necessary for your daughter."
We knew about the theater incident, but not the bowling alley.  That one was news to us.

"I agreed with the assessment of Fort Starch," I said, "and I thought college would help her like it did her older brother and sister.  Her older sister more so, I think, than her brother, but they were both helped.  Her sister really blossomed at school and I hoped the same would happen for her."
"There's no reason not to believe it can still happen, Mrs. Cheesman.  I have also looked through this young lady's record.  She has high aptitude scores in physical education and technology.  We just have to figure out what's going on and try to get her on the right path."

As the day continued to progress, we were locked in a hopeless battle with Sierra.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" Andy asked.  "I know your mother's got reservations about you going to Egypt.  And I know you want to go, because it was the first item on that bucket list of yours.  Remember that, Sierra?  That list of things you want to do?  I'm pretty sure getting arrested was not on that list.  You can't go to Egypt sitting in a jail cell, love."

"Sierramyst, precious," I pleaded, referring to her by her full name, "you've got to stop this, or you really are going to wind up in jail."
"I don't care if I go to prison."
"Yes you do. You wouldn't be saying that if you didn't.  Believe me, you do not want to go to jail."
"So the shrink is going to poke at me."
"No, Sierra, he's not going to poke at you.  He's going to examine you, find out why you're doing the things you're doing.  Why did you open your sleeping bag in the aisle in the bowling alley?"
"Cause, I was tired and I didn't feel like walking back to the dorm."
"What about in front of the movie theater?"
"Same difference."
"Tell me how you got arrested."
Sierra shrugged her shoulders.  "I was spray painting a wall and this guy walked up to me, showing his badge."
"That's it?"
"Yeah, what else do you want me to say?"

Then, I heard Andy continuing to work his magic.  "How about it, Sierra?" he asked her.  "You go take that psych test, and I'll consider letting you go to Egypt."