I never went to a program, but what strikes me is the strong stand the parents took on the issues. My parents trusted me and never went off the deep end. They over reacted sometimes, but not to the point of a program.
I ran away from home once and they called the police. I came back on my own. My Mom met me at the door and asked what my story was. I actually said, "I lost track of time?" "Right," she replied. "You'd better do better than that because your Dad is really mad."
I walked upstairs to my room and my Dad came out of the bathroom in the upstairs hall. He looked right at me. His expression changed. He walked right by me and said nothing. The expression said it all. He was furious, scared, and relieved, all at the same time. That expression said, "I love you." I felt so bad about that, I never ran again. My running was never discussed. I was never punished.
I got caught shoplifting when I was 11. One of the kids involved was bragging about his exploits in school and we all got caught. There were probably five or six of us involved. The principal confronted us, one at a time. We all confessed. My Dad had to take me to the store to apologize. I did. I returned the undamaged, unopened merchandise. I never wanted the thing. I only did it because my friends were calling me a chicken. I was banned from the store.
I smoked and used drugs occasionally. When caught, these were confiscated and destroyed. I would get lectured about the dangers of drugs, alcohol and tobacco. I got caught with pot by my 6th grade teacher. He gave the choice between the police or the Boy Scouts. I liked the Scouts. I was only a Scout for a year. I stopped going when the rumor came around that the bigger boys were giving the younger boys swirlies. Then I learned that our pharmacist Scout Master was selling drugs to people without a prescription. When he went down, the troop was disbanded.
I got caught having sex with my sister's friend. She was 15 and I was 14. My Mom walked in on us. She gasped, closed the door and went downstairs and told my Dad. No one returned to my room. After the girl left, my Dad gave 'the talk' and warned me about STDs and pregnancy. My sister was already pregnant, but they did not know that, yet. My Dad gave me condoms and told me not to ever let my Mom catch me. My Mom was religious and any sex outside marriage was horrible, in her opinion.
We did not have a model family. My Mom was mentally ill. My Dad was physically ill. They were both away at times and my sister and I were split up and lived with relatives. My Dad was withdrawn and angry and took it out on me (less often, my sister). He was physically and verbally abusive when I was a small child, but seemed to mellow as we got older. Their biggest flaw was that they were never supportive. They never came to our events. I was on the track team for four years and made junior olympics and neither of parents saw a meet; not one.
My sister had more issues than I did. She became sexually active very early. She used drugs and became an alcoholic while still a teen. She left home at 15 and pregnant. My Dad refused to speak with her for five years. My Mom helped her out with clothes, food and money. My Mom was afraid of my sister's husband and friends and so I would come along. Such protection was only symbolic. These guys were real bad-ass gang bangers and I was frightened to be there. My Mom would yell at my Dad and say things like, "She's still your daughter. Blood is thicker than water." and "What would God say to a man who abandons his daughter!"
After my sister left, my Dad lightened up a lot. The hitting and most of the yelling stopped. The dialogue started. By the time I graduated from high-school, we were pretty close.
My sister graduated from high-school, a single mom on welfare. My Mom insisted that my Dad send her to college. My Dad did. My sister divorced her now convict husband. My parents took in my nephew and he and my Dad are really close. My sister is a PHD in psychology and works with troubled kids in a wrap-around program. She abhors programs.
The point is that my sister and I came through fine in spite of the living hell that was our childhood. We both were 'troubled teens.'
My parents were not bad people. They had issues. They just weren't that good at being parents.
