This is Who I AM!

Part 3: Rehabilitation Centre

Danny!" my mom's voice called up the stairs. "Will you come down here?"

"Coming!" I yelled back, getting up and heading downstairs. I went down into the living room where my mother and father were waiting.

My father and mother were seated on the couch, and they had pulled up a chair so I could sit across from them. I went and stood next to the chair, but didn't sit down.

I saw my father sitting there and suddenly had a sudden burst of rage toward him. I wanted to punch him in the face, but I took a deep breath and held back my anger.

Dad motioned to the chair. "Sit down, won't you Danny?"

"I'd rather stand," I replied.

"Sit down." It was a command this time, and Dad and I locked eyes, having a stare-down. I knew that I could never win against him, so I sat down in the chair.

Dad took a deep breath. "Now your mother and I have discussed your," he paused as if searching for the proper words, "abnormal situation." I cringed as he said this.

Abnormal situation my ass, there were thousands of LGBT people out there. "We have come to a simple solution to your problem." I really wanted to yell at him, he made it sound like I had some sort of disease. "We did some research on the web and found a nice Christian rehabilitation center. You will go and stay there for a few months." I gaped at my dad. He was sending me to a, a rehabilitation center?

I wanted to yell at him that no amount of "rehabilitating" would ever change the way I am. Instead I saw this as my opportunity to get my parents off my back, so I agreed to go. Thank god I did.

At the Rehabilitation: Changes for the Better

The first few days at Change for the Better, as I learned the center was called, were very embarrassing and stressful.

I had to get moved into my room, I had meeting after meeting after meeting, I had one-on-one counselling sessions, I had family counselling sessions (most of which ended in Dad and I screaming our heads off at each other), but soon my folks left, and I was alone.

I was kept alone for my first couple weeks, for they didn't want me "affecting the rehabilitation" (they really liked that word) "of the other cases at the center".

After that though, I was allowed to eat with the other "cases" as they called us (made us sound like animals), and eventually started attending group therapy sessions, where a bunch of us would be talked to by a therapist and we could support each other.

The first time I saw her I knew she wasn't like other people. It was during my first group therapy session. She had short-ish black hair that she spiked up in various directions.

She wore unique clothes, as in a pair of grey plaid pants (that hugged her legs rather nicely if I may say so myself) a belt and a buckle showing the LGBT rainbow flag. On her upper body she wore a white short-sleeve blouse, with a dark grey vest over it.

She also wore a variety of necklaces, but it would take way too long to describe them all.

I tried hard to keep my eyes off of Jem, as I learned her name was. As I sat and listened I learned that she was funny, not funny hilarious. She was the life of the party, and she made several jokes that I still laugh about when I think about them today.

I eventually fell in with Jem, and we became great friends. I could tell you all about the adventures we had, the laughs, the tears, all the fun, but I'm not going to.

I feel like telling about the personal moments between us would in some way ruin all the joy I had with her. It would be like how a secret isn't as fun once it's been told.

So all the joyous experiences, the fun, will not be told to you, but I will tell you the turning point of my stay at Change for the Better.