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Offline whiterabbit

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« Reply #45 on: May 29, 2004, 11:11:00 PM »
Clashfan

Do we ever object to counter productive comments? Sure posted on lots of other threads. But animals is entitled to his opinion. And his rage. These boards should be one place where he can express that.
You are making me as worried as he is. You're right I disagree entirely with the limited contact, lack of phone calls and the lock up of US citizens of any age. Whether it is lawful or not. In Florida it was against the law and they got away with it for 17 years. The state even aided and abetted in this practice.A genuine need or emergency may seem like an unlikely possibility to you but not for us. Everyday in our group therapy was an emergency and we were completely powerless to do anything about it. Because we were minors. Because we needed our "therapy" uninterrupted. Because we could not make a phone call. Could not leave. Had limited, supervised contact with our parents.

And I'm sure some of the people participating in our program had good intentions. I'm sure my parents did. Unfortunately they were treating a headache with a sledgehammer and I couldn't tell them about it.

I'm sure you think you understand that there are some shady places out there. You have no idea. You haven't read the other threads on this board. Allow me to enlighten you with some stories. Stories about what can happen when good intentions are allowed to over ride the civil liberties of anyone but especially children.

My parents took me to Straight on October 20, 1980. My intake lasted 6 hours. Two teen girls coerced a confession from me. Yes I had smoked pot, tried drinking. They advised me that if I did not sign myself in they could have me court ordered to mental institution. Because I had admitted to doing drugs. And doing drugs was crazy. They said that I would be in the program for 2 weeks and after that time I could leave if I chose .After 6 hours I gave up. I decided that 2 weeks was not so long. A mere 14 days. How bad could it be?If it became unbearable I would run away. I never saw a psychiatric professional of any sort. Not a doctor, not my parents not even an adult. I signed the papers as they instructed.

We changed foster homes frequently, arbitrarily. It seemed they didn't want us to feel comfortable or more importantly, secure. I do not know how many foster homes I lived in those first few months. The first one was roughly 3or 4 days followed by a week or so at the second. After that there was a string of homes consisting of days at a time.One home was very comfortable, the parents at least to me, appeared wealthy. But my oldcomer was a sadistic little tyrant who took pleasure in her power. She enjoyed watching us shower and go to the bathroom. She invented additional rules like newcomers had to sleep naked on the floor. Newcomers had to watch her eat spaghetti or ice cream especially if they were on the pb & j diet. Newcomers could not sit on the furniture. Moral inventories were often not long enough, legible enough. They frequently had to be rewritten. Her reviews were merciless. Other foster homes were so poor that squares of toilet paper were specified and limited to an exact number. Newcomers may use 5 squares or 8 squares. Many homes were overcrowded in those days. The bedroom typically consisted of a mattress or two on the floor and we slept 3 or 4 to a mattress. Locked doors and locked windows.In spite of the fact that it was illegal, unsafe and a fire hazard.

Open meeting review was a nightmare.Everyone was reviewed & given setbacks or responsibilty. " I deserve nothing" or "I deserve talk". As if that wasn't enough to drive one to feel worthless, the resulting verbal assault would drive the message home. Still the staff had more vicious tools in their arsenal of ego destruction. We sat on the concrete floor. We'd been in review for hours one day after I'd been there maybe a month and I raised my hand to a 5th phaser to request permission to go to the bathroom. She denied my request. Time passed and my need became more urgent. The fifth phaser went to a staff trainee who said no. I tried to hold it. Surely they would break for us to use the bathroom soon. At the back of the group Txxx Bxxxxx on first phase for months, was humming to herself. She hummed & rocked herself constantly. Even a fifteen year old could see that she needed psychiatric help. Serious help. I wondered why someone who was so obviously mentally ill was permitted in the program. Txx was lucky on this day. The staff was trying to ignore her rather than restrain her as they frequently did. I tried to focus on her humming. Maybe I could distract myself from the need to go to the bathroom.

More time passed.It became painful. The meeting showed no signs of relenting. I could focus on nothing but overwhelming physical need. I began signaling frantically. The 5th phaser looked sympathetic and again went to the trainee who looked at me and went to a junior staff member, KW. She glared at me and shook her head no.I was desperate. How could they not see that I genuinely had to go? My stomach was distended, grotesque. Frightening. I was sweating, crying. Begging. I wondered if my bladder would burst and kill me. K looked at me with a smirk. Disgust, contempt and a giggle. The senior staff member, W finally noticed. There was now a second girl Jill Sxxxx, also crying and asking to go to the bathroom. Other girls were beginning to raise their hands. W shrieked at the group"If you girls have to go to the bathroom so goddamned bad you can go on the fucking floor cause you're not going!" I was sitting on my foot, shoving it into my crotch, rocking slightly, crying. Girls began to scoot away from Jill and I. Finally I couldn't wait any more. I thought maybe I could just go a little. Enough to relieve the pain and hold the rest until the end of the review. There was no stopping it. I sat in a big puddle of urine. Jill followed suit.  K looked at us and told us we were disgusting and laughed. Wanda told us we could just sit in it. The review continued. Another girl went on the floor. Finally my name was called and I stood in my urine. A flurry of hands went up. All vying for the opportunity to tell me that I was disgusting, a piece of shit. K was laughing so hard. W looked at me with disgust, contempt. They both proceeded to tell me how disgusting, stupid, pathetic I was. I was humiliated, ashamed, helpless and terrified. On the inside I was trembling. I was not allowed to say a word. W advised the 5th phaser, Lxx Axxx to get a mop but that I was to clean up my mess. She gave me a rag mop but no bucket. I mopped and wrung it out with my hands in the girls bathroom sink repeatedly until it was cleaned up. I cleaned up all the urine on the floor. Mine, Jill's all of it. The entire group watched, even the boy's side joined in the fun. Occasionally K would look over and giggle.

This happened on two more occasions. At that point I decided that I would just drink as little as possible so I wouldn't have to use the bathroom. I needn't have bothered. I was put on the peanut butter and jelly diet for failing to cooperate. This limited my morning meal to 2 pieces of dry toast and a dixie cup of orange juice approximately the size of a shot glass. Lunch and dinner was a big hamburger bun with a teaspoon of peanut butter in the center. Sometimes a slab of jelly sometimes not. Usually frozen. One 6 oz cup of water at lunch and one at dinner. I went on the diet in early to mid November and was on it through Christmas. One day they called my name at sick call and told me I had a bladder infection. Gave me a little blue pill each day for about a week or so and then just as abruptly told me I was better. I realized at some point that I had lost weight. While sitting on the couch one morning, I showed my foster mother how I could fit both of my arms inside my corduroys and touch my knees. Corduroys that I had been barely able to zip up. They took me off the pb & j diet a few days later. Still I was put on PB & J twice more before I went home.

Of course exercise raps were pretty high on the list of intolerable therapies. Occasionally W would lead us in an exercise rap. The timing of this appeared to be random. We would do no exercise for a week or two or even a month and then abruptly we would do a 2 hour session of exercises. We would do jumping jacks, sit ups endlessly, military style. If anyone fell out of count we would start over. Girls would have tears mixed with sweat running down their faces but we could not stop or it would result in more exercise. So we'd continue exercising and crying. That windowless warehouse in central Florida was brutally fucking hot without the air conditioning. The very walls would sweat. People would pass out. Beg for water. We were allowed only seconds at the water fountain in order to minimize the disruption to our "therapy". People frequently choked trying to drink as much water as possible in the limited time allowed. One of the newcomers that lived our foster home went home after a particularly brutal exercise session and drank water until she threw up. One day the girls group went to the carpet room for our exercise rap. I don't know why I thought this would be better. I just thought it had to be somehow. It was agony. Endless. My stomach cramped.Three girls fainted. When I got to the foster home that night my old comer asked me what the sores were on my back were. Turns out they were rug burns.

That summer was so hot, it was misery. Many kids had taken to carving  and cutting themselves out of desperation, hopelessness or just sheer misery. One girl carved the words highway to hell up her arm. A boy had carved streaks in his cheeks that looked like Indian war paint.Another boy had gouged huge circles on his cheeks. One day about twelve kids all made a break for the doors. It was illegal for the doors to be locked so they had posted boys as sentries at each door. Those attempting to run were tackled and restrained. Only two got away.

These stories are not the exception. They're not the worst. They're pretty typical of a day in an abusive lockup program. And it went on EVERYDAY. For years.

Of course there are also cases of rape, broken bones, mental illness and many attempted suicides which of course were never reported. Then there are the documented suicides- more than 40 and those are just the ones they know about. As many as 50,000 kids had their childhood eaten by purportedly well intentioned but ultimately destructive therapy.

How could this go on? Why would parents allow this? Those are the big questions right? How?  Because phone calls were not permitted,  contact with parents was limited, we had no contact with the outside world, no way to call for help and no one who would listen, no one monitoring the "therapy" that went on daily. Because no one took the rights of ALLEGED teen drug abusers seriously.

Because good intentions were allowed to take precedence over civil liberties.

I don't think Animals is making blanket assumptions. He has concerns. Big ones. Legitimate ones.He is expressing them exactly the way he learned in 12 hour daily group therapy sessions. I don't blame you for being not liking it. You're free to express that. Free to post a differing point of view. It makes for good discussion. Enlightenment. I'm not interested in censoring your opinions. And I'm not interested in censoring animals rage. He's had plenty of that. Maybe getting rid of some of it will allow him to express it with less venom someday.

Besides, he has good intentions......



 :skull:

For three days after death, hair and fingernails continue to grow but phone calls taper off.  
-- Johnny Carson

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Offline animals all of us

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« Reply #46 on: May 30, 2004, 05:58:00 AM »
tanx rabbit.

  Except for your personal story of horror I thoroughly am inspired to continue ranting now.  

  Actually, this whole log/post started, I'll repeat myself here I guess, when I was messing around in an alcoholics yahoo chat room.  It was about four in the morning.

  This boy was in there.  He's eighteen now.  His Id/handle looked like some kind of jargon he'd just been made to learn from rehab, I forget the name.  Someone mentioned rehab.  So I perked up and asked had anyone been to rehab in that chat room.  The kid told me he just got out recently.  

  We got to talking and I told him about Straight.  He all of a sudden had some real questions about civil rights.  He told me some very personal and real stories about Northwest.  

  I called Northwest the next day and told the clinical director - who got on the phone, who tried to get me to come in and have a emergency family conference A.S.A.P., that my son was up to no good.  She confirmed what the boy had already said to me.  

  The director confirmed that phone privileges and all private conversations with law, guardian, and otherwise are 'not permitted' (in those words).  The director confirmed that voluntary patients are not allowed to leave and that the doors are locked tight.  The director confirmed in ignorance that Northwest does not follow the state guidelines for education of minors.  They also hesitantly told me when I asked nicely, that many time patients are restrained even if they are of no harm to themselves.  

  The boy told me in that first meeting that their physician or doctor at Northwest told the parents that the boy showed no signs of alcoholism but that the three months he'd already been there was not sufficient enough time to make an accurate diagnosis of any problems and that more time would be needed.

  They pulled his happy ass right outta there !!!

  I'm still pushing the little bugger to stay on the case of the attorney we called.  No joking.  I called them up for him, too, with my calling card.

Why did the clinical director unknowingly confirm the boys story ?[ This Message was edited by: animals all of us on 2004-05-30 03:05 ]
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Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #47 on: June 03, 2004, 12:34:00 AM »
i actually went to nwbhs at the beginning of the year. and i have very mixed feelings on the facility. if you would like me to answer any questions, just ask and i will give you the best answer i can about the place. i was there for a month, so i should know some stuff you want to know. i didnt have an extreme experience, really, but i just kind of went a long with it sometimes, and tried to fight it as well. so ask, and ill answer.

i dont really know how to use this website. so i think i just posted this in some completly random area. but, ill try again. sorry if it posts twice.
  
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Offline animals all of us

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« Reply #48 on: June 03, 2004, 12:18:00 PM »
Thank you Anon.  You are welcome to put up an ID for yourself.  You don't have to use your name.

But I do care that you differentiate yourself from the hecklers who come to this forum and badger honest people not unlike yourself where you've been through abusive families and abusive treatment facilities.

I knew there were others like that kid I talked to.  If you know or have been in contact with other children who've been in NWBHS please inform them that coming here and telling about their experiences is paramount.  Parents should be well informed when their children are being put in facilities exactly what forms of treatment are being used.  I have a couple attorneys up north who would be interested in speaking with you, just say the word.
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Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #49 on: June 03, 2004, 08:40:00 PM »
One time I met these "Survivors" guy.Then I made complaint about the quality of Fagers website.Then my new "survivor Friends" promptly becan posting my full name here.
Dont trust these fagers/bradburies and other famous survivors.they are only selfserving,and most of them come from the 7phase.Still assholes the lot of them.
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Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #50 on: June 03, 2004, 09:04:00 PM »
Fuck you dickhead, if you haven't noticed many have worked long hours to make a difference.  It's been a hard battle, one you would have quit long ago.  Why don't you go back to watching the Simpson's of somehting to keep your mind occupied?  Until then, fuck off. :skull:
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Offline animals all of us

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« Reply #51 on: June 03, 2004, 11:50:00 PM »
"fuck you dickhead, I haven't seen you work long hours and blah blah blah adnauseum."

I dont' understand your post anonymous.  You are telling me that you work at NWBHS and that any work you do is okay and makes it okay to abuse children because you make a fucking paycheck doing it and fucking children keeps you fed ?

What exactly does Simpsons have to do with this and how would you know it exists if you hadn't watched it yourself after a long hard day of fucking children ?!?

No.  I say - FUCK YOU DICKHEAD !
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Offline droppedpetals

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« Reply #52 on: June 04, 2004, 12:27:00 PM »
so, i got a username. im the one who posted about answering any questions you might have about nwbhs. so, ask, and you shall recieve answers. i dont keep in contact with anyone from there because i went there with the intentions of becomiing friends with nobody.
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Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #53 on: June 04, 2004, 08:43:00 PM »
So when did you go there and what was a real experience there like?  I have read a lot of mixed crap on this website, a lot from people that have never even been to northwest.  A lot of shit has been thrown without any real support to back it up.  And a lot of shit has been flung by people that seem to be angry because they went to another awful horrible program and they want to make every treatment center out there regardless of if they are good or bad pay for that experience.
So lets here some truth about this program...
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Offline droppedpetals

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« Reply #54 on: June 04, 2004, 09:09:00 PM »
i was there around the beginning of this year. and as for the real experience, i have very mixed feeling on it. i was extremely upset for even being there in the first place and then they throw on you that you have to do a strip search. that wasnt the most wonderful thing. but, as i think about it after ive been out, it makes sense. i found the staff to be generally pretty cool. in fact, i think i became friends with many of the staff. the person i didnt like much was my therapist. i didnt think she did any good and in fact, i felt like she was very rude and said some very unneccessary things to me. even after everything she said, i wasnt allowed to change therapist for some reason. which i find rediculous because a therapist is there to talk and you cant talk to someone unless youre comfortable with them. and i hated her and couldnt talk to her. i think they(as a facility) was a little too babyish and didnt give enough freedom(its hard to use that word in this situation). stupid things like not being able to listen to music whenever you have free time, or not being able to keep face wash in your room. another thing that i found to be horrible was lack of fresh air. the building has no windows that open and one or two doors that lead outside. i found myself feeling very sick a couple of times. food was horrible there. and when you refuse to eat it they threaten to send you to the hospital for malnourishment then bring you back in for another at least thirty days. i really did become quite fond of some of the staff though. they truly did care and i realy wish i would be able to keep in touch with them. but i think thats against the rules. i dont think its effective a lot of the time for stopping drug use. its really not intense enough for that. and also, you only see your therapist once a week and your meds dr. once a week. which for an intensive therapy center is very minimal. and if you ask to see them more, they say they dont have time. they are good about letting the client choose whether or not to participate in activities. i give them that. and the fact of the staff being very active with the kids. if you want me to go in detail more about any specific part just ask. hope it helps
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Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #55 on: June 04, 2004, 11:48:00 PM »
Quote
On 2004-06-03 20:50:00, animals all of us wrote:


I dont' understand your post anonymous.  You are telling me that you work at NWBHS and that any work you do is okay and makes it okay to abuse children because you make a fucking paycheck doing it and fucking children keeps you fed ?



No.  I say - FUCK YOU DICKHEAD !"


someone call the guys with the white jackets, Animals is fucking crazy
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Offline SaneJane

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« Reply #56 on: June 05, 2004, 02:40:00 PM »
Wow!  When I came across this website, I had no idea what I was getting into.  I was just sitting at home searching the web and I was shocked when I ran across a site had information about northwest.  I am also a northwest "survivor", if that is what you all are calling it.  I was torn about posting anything here.  It seems that anyone that has anything positive to say about the place gets ripped to shreds.  But, I am a believer in speaking my mind.  And since I want people out there to be informed, I hope people read my story as well.
It hurts me and frustrates me to read about northwest being called a "child abuser".  I survived true child abuse in my life.  I have horror stories, probably a lot like some of the other "survivors" out there.  My life was incredibily horrible growing up.  I'm sure a lot of you can identify with how it feels to be sure that those you trust hate you.  I was not wanted and it was made clear to me what a burden I was to my mom.  
My parents had split up when I was pretty young and my dad had no idea what was going on at mom's house.  I was a scarred kid and never said anything when I saw him.  I kept all that crap inside for a lot of years.  When I was older, I just was horrible to both of my parents.  I never listened to anything they said.  I remember one night, my dad was trying so hard to reason with me and I just walked out the front door.  I was gone for over a week.  Pretty much just trying to kill myself.  I guess you get the picture.  I was into to everyone(literally) and everything.  
When I finally did go home.  My dad said we were going to get an assessment at some place.  I didn't really want to go, but then I guess I was tired of all the pain too.  I was so tired of being sad and angry and hurt all the time.  I just went with him.  
When I got to the place I went back with some lady to what they call the nurses station and they talked to me about what the place was.  I found out I was going to be there for a while.  I admit I was shocked.  And angry.  And I cried lots.  The first few days were really hard.  I really wanted to just run away.  But then I met a lot of cool staff.  I agree with the other person who posted about the staff at northwest.  They all listened to me.  Yeah, there were some dumb rules, but nothing too hard.  I did get frustrated a lot of the time, but even when I would get pissed and swear at them, they just would talk to me.  I went to a hell of a lot of groups.  Some were great.  Some weren't.  There were a few staff there that I didn't like, but hey, they probably didn't like me either.  No one abused me there.  I know what child abuse is, and no one laid a hand on me, yelled at me, nothing!  In fact as much as I hated being there at first, it was one of those life-changing experiences.  I told my dad everything about my life (well, almost everything...) We actually talked and even I got a chance to face my mom.  It was safe.  I always knew that all I had to do was walk up to a staff and they would listen to me if I needed them to.  They were busy lots of the time, and some of the kids there were real shits.  But I also met some others that were okay.  I wasn't really about making friends though.  
It has been really hard since I got out.  There have been times that I wish I was there again, just because I know that I wouldn't have to face life.  But now I want to live, and I care about the things I do to myself.  Me and my dad fight still, but it's not the same.  My therapist (who was great) taught both of us how to listen and talk even when we are mad.  I still want to use drugs sometimes, but I haven't and that says tons and tons about how much I have grown.  I wouldn't even have thought twice about it before.
I guess that's my story.  I am open to any questions too.  I am all for this website if it is going to go after programs that don't let you have contact with your parents, or lie to them or do all those things that other poster talked about in his(her?)post.  That sounds awful.  It just wasn't like that at northwest.  Maybe noone will believe me, but I have the right just as anyone else does to put my words out there.
So that's my story.
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Offline whiterabbit

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« Reply #57 on: June 06, 2004, 10:41:00 PM »
I'm glad you posted your experience. And I'm glad it was a good one. The most useful thing this forum can do is inform and enlighten. I have a very cynical view of behavior modification programs, as does Animals. We don't want the type of program we were in to exist ever again. And they can only operate in secrecy. So we watch and post  information & experiences, good and bad. Challenge suspect practices and put it all up where people can check it out. Your storyis equally imortant to that end. And opposing views make for lively discussion.

And every once in a while someone feels the need to vent some anger. It might make for better therapy than debate but I think this is an appropriate place for it. :wave:

It's obnoxious to ask law enforcement to follow the law. That's insulting to every cop.

--John Lovell, lobbyist for the California police chief's association

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traight Incorporated is a disease

Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #58 on: June 13, 2004, 04:53:00 PM »
OK, here's a thought.

If Northwest Behavioral Healthcare Services is such a great place (so say its "reps"), why are so many of its most valuable employees leaving in droves?

Hmmmm....

Anybody have any insight as to why?

Just curious....
Curious George
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Offline Anonymous

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« Reply #59 on: June 13, 2004, 07:20:00 PM »
better pay to abuse children in other places.
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