The Parole Board – Case Study #3

The clink-clink noise of the cell is deafening!

I have gotten used to it after 5 years, 60 months, 1826.25 days, 2,628,000 minutes, I’m going to change my life this time.

I know I’ve said this to you God the last time and the other time and the time before that.

I’m going to do everything it takes to stay free!

My name is Noah Ortega I’m a 53 year old Hispanic male, I’m a 3-time felon and this time I’ve been convicted of burglary.

I suspect when my mother named me Noah she didn’t predict I would become a crack head felon.

My cell opens and it’s the CO coming to get me to face the parole board.

I hold my hands out through the bars for him to handcuff me like the animal they think I am, maybe I am an animal.

They open the cell and hand cuff my ankles too, because an animal can’t be trusted.  

I shuffle down the long cement floor, I’ve mastered this walk.

I walk into a large room with 6 agents sitting at a long table with one chair in front of them.

I sit.

I analyze them to see what my chances are.

Four men, one African American, one Hispanic and two Caucasian men.

There are two women who are Caucasian, I’m really doomed!

I do my assessment of them.

They don’t waste any time, they ask me, Mr. Ortega are you guilty?

Have you been rehabilitated?

Yes, you dumb fuck!

Is what my brain says but as gently as I can I say, I am and I feel terrible about the crimes I’ve committed and I’m ready to start fresh, this time away has rehabilitated me.

That’s what they want to hear, that I’ve been rehabilitated.

I said what I had to say and was shuffled out as I walked step by step trying not to fall with the limited space the chains give me at my ankles.  

I had to admit to the parole board that my burglary days were over and they are.

No more smoking crack!

45 days later, I walk out the jail.

The gates look huge as they slowly open.

My journey starts and I feel hopeful.

Case Study #2 – The Clinic

I have visited all the pharmacies and medicine section at every store in Portland looking for diet pills

My name is Samantha and I weigh 500 pounds and my mom worries about me

I’m scheduled for a weigh in at the clinic today at 3pm.

The clinic is just an easier softer way of saying the crazy house

My cloths fit so tight and I know I can loose a couple of pounds before 3pm.

I look at the time


I walk to the bodega at the corner and purchase 2 family packs of Oreo’s and start eating them as I walk back home

I sit on my couch and browse Facebook and imagine how I can look and be happy like so many others

I look through my pictures and compare myself

I hate myself

I finish off the second bag of Oreo’s and head to my room

I take off all my cloths and analyze my body in the mirror

I pull at my fat bulges, spin around, gaze in my own eyes in the mirror

I loath myself

I head to the bathroom, stick two finger down my throat and vomit the Oreo’s

I vomit the hate I have for myself
I drink some water with baking soda so it can come easy and I vomit some more until my throat hurts

I look up at myself as saliva melts down the side of my face and drops to the rug

I hear the front door, its my mom coming to take me to the clinic

I hurry and flush the toilet and turn the shower on as to quietly say do not disturb

I stay in the bathroom for about 5 minutes just sitting on the side of the tub, I wet my hair grab a towel and walk out

She’s standing there

I don’t look at her

I walk pass her without acknowledgement and slam my bedroom door because

I hate her too

I hear her ruffling through the bathroom looking for any sign that I have done something to harm myself

We head to the clinic

The nurse weighs me

Nurse speaks: Samantha you lost 7 pounds since your last weigh in last week, you are 95 pounds.
I’m sorry we will have to admit you.

Since I’m only 16 years old my mother signs papers to have me 302’ed again to the clinic for a psych eval and observation

And I hate myself!

Resolutions to aid Eating Disorder recovery

Poetry about a person with an eating disorder

Case Study #1 ~ Therapy

Security did escort me out of my therapist office, well 4 of my previous therapist anyway but who’s counting

This was my 9th visit to doctor Hommer Crumb

Hommer Crumb

Hommer Crumb

Hommer Crumb

His name doesn’t scream come talk to me

For some reason I’m always paired with a man

They can’t be trusted around a big ass and titties

We talked about everything and nothing at all

I covered my breast really well, the eagle hoodie I wore to every visit was intentional

Frankly I was bored

Therapy doesn’t work for me

I’m convinced my brain is broken and doctors have planted something sinister in my head when I had my tonsils removed when I was 11

Yea, I was 11, maybe 10

That’s when it happen

The thing

The something


The incident


The situation


It was an event

The dirty deed, landmark 

The happening

The ugly  

I just pretend it was a dream 

Something ugly has happened again

Just my fuckin’ luck

I know its altered the thing the doctors planted in my brain when I got my tonsils removed when I was 10 or 11, I may have been 9

They put cha’ta’sleep ya know

4 or 5 maybe 6 doctors who I spate curse words at are convinced I need to talk about it

I mean…

If security wouldn’t have escorted me out the building this time again I may have gotten to it

But they never gave me a chance

I hate therapist

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