IFS Therapy, TMS, Meeting Needs

This year has been a whirlwind. I currently have a child in KINDERGARTEN and a very opinionated toddler who thinks he’s five (meaning that he tells people he’s five). Things have been good at home with my boys (they’re happy, Canute has a good job, we have a nice home) but at some point, mid-spring, something broke in me. I don’t know what precipitated it, but I went from being somewhat dissatisfied with my life as a stay-at-home mom to just crazy unhappy. I knew with a sense of urgency that I needed to take care of myself, but I wasn’t sure where to start.

 Canute had been stressed about finances and at one point during one of our chats around the topic I was like, “Okay, but I need to take a fun fitness class. Not just the cheapest gym membership I can find.” So I signed up for a pricey six-month kickboxing membership. The budget was a little tight with the boys’ swim lessons, and just as I was about to dye my hair some outrageous color for my birthday, I decided I would use the money to sign up for another fun class—a reformer’s pilates class. They sucked me in with their short-term commitment of three months. We had to drop the boys’ swim lessons, but summer was already over.

At some point during the summer, I also realized I desperately needed to find a good therapist. I had read the book No Bad Parts by Richard Schwartz, a book about a new therapy called IFS (or Internal Family Systems), resonated with me more than any modality I had ever studied. He came up with this idea that our minds are made up of parts that often have incongruous needs (e.g., “I have this part of me that wants this, even though it goes against my better judgment.”) Instead of approaching the problem as a disciplinarian, he tried to talk to these parts, assuming they were serving some bigger function or need. His clients found healing as they engaged with these dysfunctional parts, discussed their origins, discovered their intended purpose, informed the parts they no longer had this need, and then assigned the parts more adaptive roles in their lives. Rough, incomplete summary, but there’s the gist.

How often do we have inner turmoil in our own minds, or parts of ourselves that seem to serve no good purpose? Do you have an inner critic that seems to come up at the worst of times? Or a selfless part that takes over and doesn’t remember that you have needs too? 

Anyway, I sleuthed through both the IFS database and my own insurance company’s database looking for a therapist. It took at least EIGHT hours to find a match over the course of a month. In the midst of that search, I also realized I needed to get back on medication. I quickly found a random psychiatrist on my insurance company’s list and told him what medications I wanted, and that I had only stopped taking them due to side-effects, but at this point I didn't care about the side-effects. He asked about other medications I had taken and it was this back-and-forth—“Yes, I’ve tried this but then this side-effect happened, so I stopped taking it.” I remember feeling a little bit frustrated that he wasn’t just prescribing what I had asked for, but then I didn’t realize he worked for a company that specialized in Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. So, it came as a big surprise when he recommended TMS for me. 

TMS is an evidence-based treatment for depression, anxiety, OCD, and migraines. (And they’re currently studying it for other uses such as chronic pain and dementia!) They use targeted magnetic fields to stimulate parts of the brain impacted by problematic symptoms when other treatments have not worked. 

My insurance approved it, and luckily our deductible was already met. So, I met every weekday with a TMS specialist for a little over a month. She would put the device on my head, and then I would feel tapping on head (like a tiny mallet) with every zap of the machine. The strength of the tapping would increase day by day, and I started feeling the effects a couple weeks into it. (It was a little uncomfortable, but so much better than meds.) Also, about a week into treatment, I met with my IFS therapist for the first time. And Oh, My Goodness, was it everything I had hoped for. 

I just felt so heard! Parts of me that I had banished or shamed were allowed to have a voice during our sessions. She helped me realize that I have several inner critics from different times in my life. Instead of focusing on thinking errors and trying to redirect my mind to more adaptive thought patterns, I was able to engage with these parts and find the hurt part underneath. I’m still working on all this stuff, but I can address these parts with more ease when they pop up and there’s a sort of cooperation that wasn’t there before.   

I remember at one point during all of this mental health treatment, I woke up in the middle of the night and I suddenly felt this wave of sadness crash over me. I cried my eyes out as I realized I had been avoiding this deep sadness for months. As the wave subsided, I felt this overwhelming desire to just hold my kids. It was a night of low lows and just intense feeling, but totally cathartic. In my somewhat successful attempt to banish the sadness, I had also dampened other feelings like love. It’s like the TMS (and probably the IFS as well) had reset the extremes of my emotions to their normal range. The lows are lower now, but the highs are higher. 

So I'm crying a lot again. Like, a commercial with puppies? Waterworks. I feel like I'm pregnant again, but without all the bloating.

And THEN(!) I was recently cast in a play, which has been meeting other needs so long discarded—like the need to socialize with other adults, to have fun, to use my creative mind. The run of the play is nearly over, but I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. 

I know that I'm very privileged with all this stuff. The fact that I have the luxury to do these things when others cannot is evident, and I'm so grateful. I've attached some links to some of the things I've mentioned as well as other resources that might be helpful.

For those who do have access to more resources like I do, I think the barrier is often our own selves. It's hard to go against the responsible part of yourself that only wants to use money for a narrow set of needs and the occasional extraneous expenses (e.g., your children's hobbies). It's also hard to inconvenience others (e.g. "My spouse has been working all day, so it would be unfair to make him do bed-time alone.") But if you don't, you lose yourself. 

Helpful links:

https://www.amazon.com/No-Bad-Parts-Restoring-Wholeness/dp/1683646681

This was the book I read. It has exercises where you can follow along and see if this type of therapy works for you. 

https://www.goodinside.com/podcast/4236/the-voices-inside-our-heads/

--> I didn't really talk about good inside, but it's a great resource for parents! It has every topic about parenting under the sun, including meeting your own needs. LOVE it. This episode in particular talks about IFS therapy. She also has a paid subscription where you can listen to workshops that give you very specific tips and strategies. (I paid for that subscription over the summer as well, and it helped me work through some things before I was able to find a therapist.)

https://ifs-institute.com/

--> The database where I found my therapist

https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/transcranial-magnetic-stimulation/about/pac-20384625

https://neurowellnessspa.com/

--> This is where I went for TMS

Team Work--So much work, not much team

Adjusting to two kids is tough. I only recently realized that one reason for my protracted, painful adjustment comes from my parenting style. I didn’t even realize that I had some central ideology guiding me until my friend mentioned that her friend based her parenting around cloth diapers (i.e. “Cloth diapers are the foundation to the way I parent my kids.”) But this was a friend quoting a friend and all from a conversation we had a couple months ago. So don’t quote me on that. 

It got me to thinking, “What’s my foundation? Do I even have one?” And the crazy thing is that I knew the answer right away: attachment. 

I am aware that there are probably even better foundations I could have. I’m imagining sitting in relief society (church class with other women) where we have this oddly specific discussion on parenting and after I offer my response on what I center my parenting around (and my friend's friend talks about cloth diapering), some lady raises her hand and says, “WELL I CENTER MY PARENTING AROUND CHRIST!” (I don’t why she’s shouting in this imagined scenario. Probably because she’s the worst.) Okay imaginary church lady, you win. You have a better foundation. But mine still is attachment. 

Blurb about attachment~

I learned of attachment theory in grad school and it really struck a chord with me. It’s this idea that children paradoxically learn to become independent, thriving members of society by having a parent they can depend upon. And not just for their physical needs, but emotional needs.

For example, if a securely attached child is feeling unsafe in a new environment, s/he will be able to return to their attachment figure (either by look or physical proximity) and feel safer. Parents who are in tune with their children respond with empathy and strengthen those bonds.

It’s interesting because there was a time (not long ago) when parents were told to encourage more independence in their children: Don’t coddle your kids. Be firm. Make sure that they can do things on their own. Don't let them get too attached or they become dependent. --> That kind of attitude. 

And some parents took it to an extreme. Instead of responding to their child's bid for connection in a moment of emotional need, and then encouraging them to try again, they would skip to the encourage-child-to-be-independent-slash-stop-bothering-me part. And not just when their child needed a good push, but frequently. It looked less like encouraging independence and more like discouraging pleas for assistance. 

"Mom/Dad I am worried!" --> child is not in physical danger --> "You're fine." --> "Mom/Dad I need help!" --> child is not in physical danger --> "Stop worrying."

When a person you care about makes a bid for connection, even if they are overreacting to something small or being "needy," you respond with love and acceptance if you actually care about that relationship. You turn toward them.  And that's especially true of a relationship with a child. Can you imagine if you responded with "You're fine," every time a friend would try confiding in you? Maybe s/he needs that tough love every once in a while, but more often than not, it's not a great response. That friend would probably stop confiding in you and might even stop wanting to be around you generally. The same goes for children who are discouraged from going to their primary caregiver when they feel unsafe. 

And while a child with parents from that background may end up being a high functioning, productive member of society, they may have some deep seated interpersonal issues centered around attachment (e.g., avoidant or anxious styles of attachment). This often looks like a chronic difficulty forming close bonds with other people (either allowing people to get too close or having anxiety that people will abandon them).

To sum up here, if you keep pushing your kid away in hopes that she’ll be more independent, she’ll mostly likely learn that she can’t depend on you. At least, emotionally. It’s only when a child knows that he is welcome to come back to a safe, secure place that he can begin to feel confident enough to venture out further the next time. 

End of blurb ~

When child number 1 came along, I was always trying to stay connected. Like most parents I know, I engaged in back and forth interaction and I tried to make sure I wasn't distracted when he was really talkative. Unlike other parents, I had an anxiety about the moments we weren't connected even though I knew then that it's good for kids to have time to themselves. I even made sure to stay connected during our short drives to and from Daddy’s school: I would blow raspberries and he would blow them back. It was so freaking adorable and he got REALLY good at it. 

The times I couldn't attend to him immediately brought about a dramatic rise in my anxiety, and not just because he might be in physical danger (I did have postpartum anxiety) but because I was worried he might think he could not depend on me (thinking back on those severe cases of neglect I had learned about in school where a child stopped crying for assistance after hours of neglect over the course of months and developed antisocial personality disorder). My vigilance made sleep training an ulcer of an experience. I put an unhealthy amount of pressure on myself and it wasn't necessary. Children don't need that degree of checking in/interaction to form secure attachments. 

Despite my unnecessary anxiety over my first and my OCD-like checking in behavior, he turned out okay. We became something of an inseparable duo--a team. He was my little buddy and that meant he would go where I would go. And when he could decide for himself, he was pretty much always welcome to join me, and he typically would. There were times I wondered if I should set better boundaries about where he couldn't go, but I figured it was probably fine. Probably.

The point is, I wanted him to feel welcome and wanted. That was my priority. 

Well, fast forward a few years and now I have two babies. Both of whom are super light sleepers, which means I can’t have S in the same room when I try to nurse C to sleep. I used to have both boys in bed with me while I nursed, but it’s just not feasible anymore. C gets fussier as he is unable to sleep with S in the background--EVEN IF HE’S JUST WATCHING A SHOW ON MY PHONE AT A LOW VOLUME. I tell you, light sleepers. So I started booting S from the room. 

(Another complication is that C is just generally high maintenance when it comes to how he likes to be fed. He sometimes will only eat if he is lying next to me in bed, with a blankie, and with no distracting brother around. Also, he doesn't like it when my legs touch his feet. 😂 I really wish he would tolerate less than ideal feeding conditions--like on the couch and with a noisy brother nearby.)

At first I was really good about getting back to S soon after C fell asleep. And then with high energy that I conjured out of thin air, I would announce how excited I was to return to S to play! But then I got tired. I would fall asleep while nursing C without planning to. Or sometimes I would plan to sleep a little by turning on a show with the hope that S would stay away for a bit longer than the nursing would take. Then I got a child’s door knob cover on my bedroom door.

In my defense, the door knob cover was to prevent S from waking C. I really only closed the door (and essentially locked him out) for the short time it would take to get C to sleep and then I would leave C sleeping in my room while I resumed my nap on the couch where S was watching a show. I would only lock myself in for hours during the weekends when my husband was watching S while I napped. I figured S was getting used to it. That, and my eternal zombieness. 

Last week, I woke S up from his nap and he was still a bit groggy (he still takes very long naps which is a blessing on those days I need it but actually disrupts his sleep if we allow him to nap until he naturally wakes). It was the weekend and Canute had followed me into S’s room after I had woken the tiny grumpy beast. I have found that the best way to wake him is by making him laugh, so I made fun of Canute’s wrinkly elbows and then showed S how he also had wrinkly elbows. We laughed together and then I felt a wave of fatigue rush over me. I told Canute that I wanted to take a short nap while baby number 2 was still asleep. I started toward my room not realizing S had been following our conversation (something that happens a lot more these days). As I walked the two paces to my room, I noticed S at the door waiting for me to open it. 

“I’m going to take a nap in the big bed too.”

“Go play with Daddy, Sweetie.”

Face pained, he shrugged his shoulders, turned, whimpered, and walked away with this posture I can only describe as embarrassed and ashamed.

"Hey bud!"

And then he ran, his cry intensifying. I rushed after him and he eventually let me hold him as he sobbed. I apologized repeatedly and cried a little myself.

I thought he was getting more independent, but really I was just pushing him away and hoping for the best.

Before C was born, I would have never sent S away if he wanted to join me for a nap (or a prolonged waking up). He was almost always welcome to join me while I performed my mundane daily activities. And he knew it, and I was glad he knew it. We were a team!

It’s no wonder that he is feeling excluded and unwanted.

I hate the thought of us not being a team anymore. 

But how do I meet his needs as well as the needs of my other child who needs me and only me so often?

I’m at a loss, and I'm tired.

I guess the only thing I keep coming back to is a dire need to sleep-train C. Being a functional human again is long overdue.

Chiharu Assimilates - A screenplay

INT. KITCHEN - MORNING

Steam issues from a boiling pot of water that threatens to overflow.

A wooden cutting board lies on the counter stained several different colors with a knife balancing on its edge.

FATHER (40) stands at a sink washing his index finger under the faucet, wincing. He curses in Japanese.

FATHER

Shimatta!

Father is surrounded on both sides by moving boxes. He looks out the window to an early morning. The view is overwhelmingly green. A large maple hints of fall.

The pot boils over with a HISS.

Father curses again and runs over to the pot, blows on the water, and then turns down the heat.

He sucks on his finger.

CHIHARU (14) enters. They speak in Japanese with subtitles throughout the scene.

[*Note: All Japanese dialogue in brackets.]

CHIHARU

[Good morning.]

FATHER

Good morning!]

CHIHARU

[What are you making?]

FATHER

[Lunch. Did you sleep well?]

Chiharu nods while making her way to the stove. All burners are in use and burnt splashes of food cover most of the surface. She cautiously peers inside each pot and pan.

CHIHARU

[You shouldn't try to make so many things at once.]

FATHER

[Well, you want variety, don't you?]

CHIHARU

[I can make my own lunches. Mom taught me--]

FATHER

[I can make lunches too.]

CHIHARU

[Aren't you going to be late for work?]

FATHER

[Yeah... I'll start making lunches at night. For today, we'll have a late morning breakfast!]

Father smiles and rummages through one of the boxes. He finds a plate, rinses it in the sink, wipes it on a dry rag, and hands it to Chiharu.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[Let's eat!]

KITCHEN - MORNING - LATER

Chiharu and Father sit a table with two small areas cleared for food. The rest of the table is laden with boxes.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[The country here is beautiful, isn't it?]

CHIHARU

[Yes! It looks nothing like the pictures.]

FATHER

[What pictures? You've only seen pictures of New York.]

CHIHARU

[We're pretty close to New York, aren't we? We should visit. Mom always wanted to go there.]

Father nods.

FATHER

[I spoke to a man the other day and I couldn't understand a word he said. I think they speak a different dialect here.]

Chiharu's eyes widen.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[Don't worry, you'll adapt.]

CHIHARU

[Why didn't you tell me?]

FATHER

[I just learned.]

Beat.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[You’ll be okay.]

Father leaves the room and returns with a plastic bag. He hands it to Chiharu. She looks confused before opening the bag to reveal a red leather satchel. She gasps.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[I got it before we left.]

She peers inside and looks in all the pockets.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[I don't know about the uniform policy here, but I thought red would be safe.]

Chiharu laughs and hugs her dad. He smiles.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[Sorry we didn't get it for you when you first started middle school. Your mom's surgery--]

CHIHARU

[Thank you so much.]

FATHER

[Well, it's probably time to get ready for school.]

Chiharu looks at the clock: 8:15. Her eyes widen.

CHIHARU

[I'm already late!]

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - MORNING

Chiharu sprints through the hallway, satchel bouncing on her side as she frantically glances from a note in her hand to several doors on both sides. She passes a billboard with school flyers. At the top of the billboard it reads: "MEMPHIS SCHOOL DISTRICT."

Chiharu stops at a door at the end of the hall and looks between the note in her hand and the door plaque several times before entering. She opens the door with trembling hands.

INT. SCHOOL CLASSROOM - CONTINUOUS

Chiharu enters a classroom of Caucasian 14 year-old students garbed in clothing from the 80s. In addition to the 80s decor, MR. ANDERSON (40s) and most of the STUDENTS have thick Southern accents. Mr. Anderson wears fairly casual clothing and looks to have the build of a teacher who coaches after school.

The class stares blankly at Chiharu. Chiharu sees Mr. Anderson and bows her head slightly, eyes turned down. She speaks with a strong accent.

CHIHARU

I'm... New student!

Students laugh as Chiharu offers her papers, blushing. Mr. Anderson looks down at the papers.

The following words throughout this scene are meant to be a representation of Chiharu's perspective. They are an exaggerated take on a Southern accent and should only barely register for English speakers, much as they barely register for Chiharu.

MR. ANDERSON

(rapidly)

Lay-sree-cum-plass-shoo-play-truh-

day-Wuts-uh-yoo-ruh-nay-muh?

Chiharu leans forward, mouth slightly open. Teacher points at the papers.

MR. ANDERSON (CONT'D)

(rapidly)

Dis-suh-yoo-ah-ray-nay-muh?

Chiharu looks blankly at the papers.

MR.ANDERSON (CONT'D)

(slow and loud)

                Ow. Do. Yoo-oo.Say-yuh. Your name?

CHIHARU

My name is Chiharu.

MR. ANDERSON

Gu-kray-day.

Teacher rolls his eyes as if exasperated. Students laugh.

MR. ANDERSON (CONT'D)

Tay-kuh-yoo-ruh-see-yeet-uh Ch-HAIR-oo.

Mr. Anderson gestures to an open seat at the back of the class. Chiharu continues to look confused. He steps forward toward the seat he indicated, and motions slowly with a dramatic sweep of his arm toward the seat. He smiles with mock patience at Chiharu.

The class laughs again as Chiharu blushes and moves toward the seat indicated. He resumes teaching.

The bell rings and ANNE (14), a pretty blond girl, waves to a boy behind Chiharu. Chiharu smiles and waves back.

Chiharu races to Anne's side and introduces herself.

SOUNDS OF STUDENTS TALKING AND GATHERING THEIR BELONGINGS.

Chiharu speaks haltingly but has a relieved smile throughout the exchange. Anne walks out of the class not bothering to wait for Chiharu. Chiharu follows.

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

Anne continues down the hallway, walking faster than Chiharu.

Chiharu does her best to keep pace. She takes out a paper and shows this to Anne.

CHIHARU

Do you have same class?

Chiharu points to her list of classes. Anne glances at the paper and then looks back at Chiharu.

ANNE

No.

CHIHARU

Ah.

ANNE

I gotta go, sorry.

CHIHARU

Anne?

ANNE

I'm busy.

Anne quickly turns the corner and loses Chiharu. Chiharu looks as if she's about to follow, but slows her pace nearly stopping. Students rush past her.

John (14) with DAN (14) and FRIENDS (14) yells from behind.

JOHN

Moo-vuh ow-wut-thu-huh-wu-hay-ay!

Chiharu, eyes wide, stops and turns around.

JOHN (CONT'D)

Moo-vuh ow-wut-thu-huh-wu-hay-ay!

Chiharu moves aside. Friends of John laugh.

MONTAGE

Every new day, Chiharu's clothing changes.

Chiharu attempts to talk to different groups of students. Some groups ignore her, other groups laugh, mocking her accent.

New day: Chiharu sits alone, red satchel at her feet, eating lunch out of her bento box with chopsticks. Students pass by giving her a wide berth.

New day: Chiharu sits at the same vacant table, studying. She looks up to see students at another table watching her. They laugh as they use their fingers to pull at the corners of their eyes.

New day: Chiharu exits the bathroom with puffy eyes.

JILL (14), heavily freckled with messy red hair, approaches Ilene and says something to her. They both laugh. Jill takes a seat by her side.

CUT TO:

CLOSE-UP OF ILENE'S FACE

Ilene touches the corner of her eye, slightly pulling her skin.

CUT TO:

CHIHARU

Chiharu immediately stops and turns the other direction.

CUT TO:

ILENE AND JILL

Ilene finishes wiping away a tear from her laughter, oblivious to Chiharu.

New day: Chiharu raises her hand in class. MS. ROBERTS (30s), a tall woman wearing a blazer with defined shoulder pads, calls on Chiharu.

MS. ROBERTS

Ch-HAIR-roo.

CHIHARU

It's Chi-ha-ru.

Ms. Roberts rolls her eyes.

New day: Chiharu is handed back a math test in class. It reads "100%" at the top. She smiles as other students grumble about their grades.

DAN (14), a bulkier kid with a mullet, looks from his test with a 95% to Chiharu's and resentfully shakes his head.

New day: Chiharu wanders empty halls, passing a noisy lunch-room. She looks bored.

New day: Chiharu sits in another class. Mr. Anderson calls on her.

MR. ANDERSON

Ch-HAIR-oo.

Chiharu cringes but says nothing.

New day: Chiharu sits in the abandoned hallway with her red satchel and looks out the window at the FALLING LEAVES.

FALLING LEAVES turn to FALLING SNOW which turns to BUDDING TREES. It is now Spring.

END MONTAGE.

INT. KITCHEN - MORNING

On a clean stovetop, a covered pot sits with condensation collecting on the glass lid.

Chiharu enters the kitchen, eyes the pot, and stops. She looks around.

CHIHARU

[Dad?]

No response. She turns off the stove.

Chiharu opens the fridge to reveal a bento box inside. She takes it out as her father walks in.

FATHER

[Good morning!]

CHIHARU

[Don’t you have work?]

FATHER

[It's a holiday, apparently.]

He walks over to the pot.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[Let's have breakfast together!]

INT. KITCHEN - NOT MUCH LATER

Chiharu and Father eat at a clean table with bowls filled with miso soup and a mixed rice dish on the side. Silence.

FATHER (CONT'D)

[I was thinking we could go to the mall later today... Get you some new clothes. I know you used to like doing that kind of thing with your mom.]

CHIHARU

[I have a lot of homework to do today.]

FATHER

Ah.

Chiharu looks up at her father and softens her response.

CHIHARU

[But we can go if you want.]

FATHER

[That’s okay.]

Father forces a smile. Chiharu looks at the clock: 7:40.

CHIHARU

[I should get going.]

FATHER

[Have a good day.]

Chiharu waves goodbye and exits the kitchen.

INT. SCHOOL CAFETERIA - DAY

SOUND OF STUDENTS TALKING AND EATING.

Chiharu sits alone at a table with an open bento box, a large textbook propped up in front of her, and an open spiral-bound notebook to the side. She eats awkwardly with a plastic fork as she studies. Close by is a line of students waiting for food. Anne is one of the students in line and is close in proximity to Chiharu's table.

DAN

Hey Chink, I saw what you got on

the paper.

Chiharu doesn't look up. Her accent is far less pronounced than it was at the beginning.

CHIHARU

I'm Japanese.

DAN

What?

CHIHARU

I'm not Chinese--I'm a Jap. It's a different country.

Chiharu scribbles something in her notebook.

DAN

Who cares?

Chiharu turns the page in her book. Dan frowns and then puts his hand on her book.

DAN (CONT'D)

Hey, I'm talking to you.

Chiharu looks up. Anne is now watching the exchange.

DAN(CONT'D)

So how'd you do it? Someone writing your papers for you?

CHIHARU

I don't cheat.

She tries to pull the book away, but he doesn't remove his hand.

DAN

You don't even speak English.

CHIHARU

...I don't?

Chiharu tries not to smile.

CHIHARU (CONT'D)

Well, for someone who doesn't know the difference between Chinese and Japanese, you speak excellent Japanese.

Chiharu struggles to take his hand off the book.

DAN

What's that supposed to mean?

CHIHARU

Give me back my book.

DAN

How the hell did you of all people get a better grade than me on an English paper, Ch-HAIR-oo?

Chiharu visibly flinches at his last word. People begin walking around Anne as she stands transfixed, watching the scene.

CHIHARU

I'm smarter than you.

Beat.

DAN

That was a stupid thing to say.

Dan snatches the textbook away from her. Chiharu stands and tries to grab it back. Anne rushes forward to intervene but collides into Jill who is trying to get around her. Jill is pushed into Chiharu's table.

The movement of the table surprises Dan and he drops the book onto an open bento box filled with food.

Chiharu's bento box flies upward. The food once inside strikes her face and shirt.

Face beet-red, Chiharu hurriedly wipes her face and clothing with a small paper napkin. Tears collect as she tries to turn away from onlookers while cleaning the mess.

Anne stands dumbfounded with her hand over her mouth and then comes forward.

ANNE

I am SO sorry.

DAN

Don't be sorry! That was

incredible!

Dan and FRIENDS OF DAN laugh.

ANNE

You're a bully, Dan.

DAN

I didn't do anything! So shut your mouth.

One of Dan's friends, John, whispers into his ear. He looks up to see Ms. Roberts watching the exchange. Dan nods and gets up to leave.

DAN

(To his friends)

I didn't even plan that!

They continue laughing as they depart.

Anne crouches down and picks up an empty, cracked bento box on the ground and tries to hand it to Chiharu. Chiharu is busy cleaning off her textbook.

Anne holds the bento box and stands awkwardly as she waits for Chiharu to finish. She decides to sit down in an empty seat.

ANNE

You've got some...

Anne leans forward to pick rice off Chiharu's hair. Chiharu flinches away from Anne. Anne relents.

ANNE (CONT'D)

I'm so sorry, Ch-HAIR-oo.

Chiharu glares at Anne.

CHIHARU

My name is Chiharu.

Chiharu snatches the bento box out of Anne's hands and leaves Anne close to tears.

EXT. SCHOOL BUS STOP -DAY

Chiharu sits waiting for the bus, holding a textbook in front of her chest.

The bus arrives.

Ilene approaches Chiharu.

ILENE

Hey Ch-HAIR-oo, I'm starting this group for...

Chiharu cringes, but pretends not to hear her. Ilene positions herself in front of Chiharu.

ILENE (CONT'D)

Hi.

CHIHARU

Hi.

ILENE

Oh wow, did you spill something on yourself?

CHIHARU

No, it's part of the design on my shirt.

ILENE

I--

CHIHARU

I don't need a study group.

ILENE

I wasn't inviting you to a study

group. It's for a club.

CHIHARU

I'm busy.

ILENE

You know, maybe you'd have more friends if you weren't such a jerk.

Ilene walks away. The bus arrives. Chiharu boards.

INT. LIVING ROOM -AFTERNOON

Chiharu enters the front door, textbook still in her arms, satchel draped over her shoulder. She sits on the couch and sets her satchel down.

Chiharu unloads the satchel's contents: another book, bento box, pencil case, etc. She places each item on the coffee table.

Chiharu briefly leaves the room and returns with a plain black backpack with a tag still on. She places her books and other objects inside. She stops at the bento box.

Chiharu opens her discarded red satchel to place the bento box inside.

She finishes filling her black backpack and after zipping it closed, she takes the red satchel and leaves the room.

INT. KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

Chiharu discards the red satchel in the trash.

SOUND OF A DOOR CLOSING.

Chiharu looks up, startled. She quickly rips a new paper towel from a paper towel stand nearby and covers the satchel in the trash.

Father enters the kitchen. He looks Chiharu up and down.

There are no subtitles.

FATHER

Gakkou de dou shita no?

CHIHARU

I want to start buying my lunch at school.

Father responds in a strong accent.

FATHER

Okay... Why are you covered in

stain?

CHIHARU

I spilled on myself. Can I have

lunch money?

FATHER

You don't want the lunch I make for you?

Beat.

CHIHARU

If we can't afford it, that's fine.

FATHER

I can afford it.

CHIHARU

Thank you.

Chiharu starts to leave.

FATHER

Doko ni itteru no, ima?

CHIHARU

I'm going to wash up.

Chiharu exits.

INT. SCHOOL OFFICE -DAY

A couple of students sit in a waiting area, Chiharu among them. She carries her black backpack and wears nondescript clothing. The school counselor walks out of his office. MR. MOORE (late 20s) has a friendly, welcoming smile.

MR. MOORE

I have a Chi...

Chiharu stands.

CHIHARU

That's me.

Chiharu follows Mr. Moore into his office.

INT. MR. MOORE'S OFFICE - CONTINUOUS

MR. MOORE

So how do you say your name?

CHIHARU

That's actually why I wanted to

meet with you.

MR. MOORE

Oh?

CHIHARU

Yes, I'd like to have it noted somewhere on my files that I go by Chelsea.

MR. MOORE

Oh, okay. Yeah, we can write that in.

CHIHARU

Thank you. That's all.

MR. MOORE

Well, then. I'll take care of that. Have a great first day of high school, Chelsea.

Chelsea nods and exits his office.

THE END