Fornits
Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform => Straight, Inc. and Derivatives => Topic started by: Withdraw on October 15, 2005, 09:41:00 PM
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[ This Message was edited by: Withdraw on 2006-02-28 21:52 ]
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On my first night I punched my oldcomer in the mouth. The braces he was wearing kind of got in the way of his lip. Honestly though this guy was quite big and most likely could have kicked my butt if he felt like it.
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On my intake I was accused of lying when I said I never tried drugs. That was frustrating to say the least...I didnt know a damn thing about drugs except that I was not even tempted to try any at that point. During the intake I was more bewildered than anything....that is until they started to explain that I would not be leaving...then
All I rememeber is being in a severe state of shock when I was first sat down in group. It was very overwhelming and confusing, especially because I didnt understand why I was there in the first place. The noise of the group motivating scared the shit out of me, and so did witnessing confrontating for the first time. Day one was the beginning of a very long sustained state of fear.
All I remember about the first week was crying myself to sleep..."Why?, Why am I here?" And I remember that the confrontations began...about not "admitting I used drugs." Then my mind began to twist...I remember questioning and doubting myself. Yeah I think its safe to say that week one was pure hell.
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Nothing unexpected happened at all. I had tried to leave my family, but failed to find solid footing. I'd left home by thumb w/ a back pack's worth of clothing and toiletries because I'd gotten wind that my mom was trying to place me. So, this was it. No getting around it (goin' on a lion hunt... but I'm not afraid!)
There was the coercive intake. Ok, one surprise there. I wasn't sure that higher level staff couldn't really read minds. So when Virgil said he knew, from telltale physiological signs in my eyes, that I had done coke and lots of it, I was mildly surprised that that had evidently been a myth. Only mildly, though.
I knew the whole script, though, and had a little private fun surprising my new jailors by neither submitting mentally or rebelling physically. I was determined that, pot smoking, libido
nurturing and all, I was quite straight enough, thanks. I would comply w/ any reasonable demand w/o complaint and decline politely to take any gifts from these duplicitous strangers or do any thing against my own moral code.
But none of it was a shock. Not the chanting and singing, not the motivating, not the dissenters getting tackled and pinned to the floor. I understood it all from the POV of a 10 vet in a Program family. And I was determined to prove them wrong. There's not much difference between my recollection of my first day and that of any other day till my last. Same shit, different day, thank God we're young and this will soon pass.
It is error alone which needs the support of government. Truth can stand by itself.
Thomas Jefferson
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[ This Message was edited by: Withdraw on 2006-02-28 21:52 ]
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Week one was hell....
I was mislead about Straight, and I just wanted to go home....That was one of the worst times ever in my life....It felt quite surreal to me as well....I couldn't believe things could be so bad
:scared:
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On 2005-10-15 18:41:00, Withdraw wrote:
"What do you remember about Day 1/week 1 or any first impressions? "
KILL. :skull: :skull: :skull:
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I was not in Kansas anymore, that was for sure. I was backed up against the wall in front of the entire group. This one fat older girl screaming in my face, spit flying out of her mouth. I was being confronted about what a lousy kid I was as I recall.
Total shock. I had never thought anything like this was possible. I was definately scared. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hit her to show what a bad ass I was or just stand there and take it. I took it, these guys seemed pretty serious.
I liked to run away from home, had just escaped from PI (Private Institute in Georgetown) and my parents had not a clue what to do with me.
The first night when I layed down in this strange bed in this strange house, I put my sneakers under the bed and I was planning how to get out of there. They took my shoes and I believe put them on the outside.
Of course the belt loops were scary, the crap about sharing feelings and drug lists, druggie friends, the lingo and all that was scary.
The cursing was the thing that got me. My mother always said when we left that she got out of there and cussed like a sailor.
I think it was the phasers who taught her that.
Anyway, I could go on and on.
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[ This Message was edited by: Withdraw on 2006-02-28 21:53 ]
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I never even knew where I was or what was happeneing until well into my first night at the host home. No one really even told me what was happenening, just lots of questions and weird rules to follow. Sitting in group with all these people "pssting" and flicking at me to do whatever, I had no clue. I was in shock. My mom tricked me into walking into the building, and had I known what I was in for I would have bolted long before that.
They took away almost everything in my bag, gave only part of it back to my mother.
I remember having to desperately think of a "druggie tie" to give up before the end of the week. I decided on my Skid Row poster inside my closet door, which wasnt even close to being any kind of druggie tie....but it seemed like it fit. It was "wrong music".
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I really appreciate being able to read everyone's posts. I am responding to and writing everything, everywhere.
Well, what else could you do? I had an entire house by the lake, living in Montana as a writer fantasy quite a bit. I got really good at playing music inside my head. Especially after the first time i came back, or went to the dentist. then I knew what a precious comodity it was. I remember hearing "Angel" by Aerosmith somewhere out there and played it over and over in my head.
There are other things I could get in to on that topic, but i won't as it will take too long.
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Yeah the music in your head...so fantastic until it slowly starts to fade away and you really can't remember the details of the songs you tried to hold onto. Then, you start to think you're full of shit for even wanting to ROCK OUT. No rocking out don't ya know.
God but how glorious the first times you get to do all those things....everything became magnified it it's pleasure. Music, any sort of freedom, being able to walk around outside, being about to dress yourself, put on makeup, use hairspray, and of course all sorts of other things that I never even did before became completely compelling, such as oh say...drugs which I never did before, skipping as much school as possible, not to mention sex.
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On 2005-10-17 06:02:00, Carmel wrote:
"I never even knew where I was or what was happeneing until well into my first night at the host home. No one really even told me what was happenening, just lots of questions and weird rules to follow. Sitting in group with all these people "pssting" and flicking at me to do whatever, I had no clue. I was in shock. My mom tricked me into walking into the building, and had I known what I was in for I would have bolted long before that.
They took away almost everything in my bag, gave only part of it back to my mother.
I remember having to desperately think of a "druggie tie" to give up before the end of the week. I decided on my Skid Row poster inside my closet door, which wasnt even close to being any kind of druggie tie....but it seemed like it fit. It was "wrong music".
"
you know what really gets me?
when i walked...they wouldn't even give me my suitcase back......about a week later, my parents and i went to claim my belongings, and i was missing over half of my clothes...
still pisses me off to this day
:evil:
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I understand the part about doubting yourself. many of the things I did in my "druggie past" were done without any drugs in my system. They get you there, you were just a dry druggie. Your mind is out to get you. What if you have another problem altogether that drives you to do wacked out things? That was never addressed, how would it be? There were no real phsychiatrists there to evaluate anything.
Another program I started after I left there said the same thing:
"This is the only disease that tells you you don't have it" Ok, so what if you don't have it? Wouldn't your mind still tell you that you didn't have it?
One of my sisters was scared the entire time that they were going to throw her in there as well as a dry druggie. I remember one of my old comers telling me that my sister wore these pants that proved she was trying to hard to fit in by wearing them.
By the grace of God she was not brought in either. She would probably still not be speaking to me!
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It was a Saturday afternoon when I was picked up from the hospital and told I was going to see a counselor near Detroit. I walked in and the director Nancy Dolan in her unfeminine navy blue skirt suit and stern face "welcomed" me where I was led to an intake room alone. I viewed my mother one week later in Friday night open meeting while she stood up and told the captive lunatics how I was arrested for minor in possession and fought the police. Woo hoo never mind that I had been raped about 15 minutes before my arrest and was in a drunken frantic state of mind.
So anyways on day one 2 big plain faced chicks did my intake. Apparently, sending in the big girls was supposed to intimidate me or something. They gave me the sign in jargon and said I could go home after 14 days if I didn't have a problem but the only way I could make this happen was to sign in. Considering I had been in a youth home twice, out patient treatment and a hospital before that I really thought I'd be going home in a few weeks. I never imagined I'd be there for 2 years and my mom would stick to her guns. I only thought going to a training school for kids was long term and had no idea a place like this existed outside of prison.
They asked me all sorts of bizarre questions like had I ever had sex with animals. After disclosing my drug use and sexual history I was led to the bathroom to be stripped searched. I was told to bend over and spread my cheeks. Then I was told to squat down like a chicken and cough as I turned in a circle. I stood on a cold tile floor naked as I watched these 2 chicks feel every inch of my clothing. Oh "you aren't allowed to wear boots after today" I was told.
I don't remember the belt loop explanation, but I let them belt loop me into group. I thought they were nice to me and all despite being a little weird and zombie like. I was in a daze of sorts. I really thought I would not be there long. Boy was I wrong.
I watched all these people flapping their arms and just sat there embarrassed thinking "I can't do that." I knew places existed to lock kids away, but I never imagined anything on this level.
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Day after tomorrow will be 25 years since I was duped into signing myself into Straight St Pete. My 15th birthday. I was in 10th grade english class at Dixie Hollins when I got a note to report to the office. No explanation but a scrawl at the bottom to BRING BOOKS!. My parents were so somber. I thought maybe my brother was sick or someone had died. We walked into the front office at the building on Frontage Rd off Gandy BLvd. I had noticed the very limited windows and the bars on the windows at the front. I remember thinking that maybe my grandmother hadn't died but lost her mind instead and we were going to visit her in a mental institution.We were standing in the office when I saw the license on the wall-Straight Inc. I started to cry, tried to leave but a staff member and a couple of girls came and guided me into an intake room. After several hours I copped to smoking a little pot. Then the big push was on -the coercion went from sign yourself in-it's only 14 days to if you don't sign yourself in we can have you committed t a mental hospital because you've admitted to doing drugs and doing drugs is crazy. A few more hours and 14 days in some little shelter home didn't seem like such a big deal. I figured I'd just run away if it was awful. I had no idea..... I don't remember the strip search. I remember two girls walking me into the big room. One was holding each of my hands. Nothing could have prepared me for the group. The double doors opened and hot air poofed out. The group was on the floor by the kitchen service window facing the double doors. Ten minutes from the beach and these kids looked like they hadn't seen the sun in years. Sweating, strangely dressed, sunken eyes. Arms flapping madly, making funny noises and funny faces. I remember closing my eyes and thinking "this can't be real this can't be happening" My period stopped that day. That minute. I didn't get another one for almost 9 months. I went to Catha Philips house for the first few days. No suitcase, no nothing. A paperbag with my name and a few clothing items showed up on day 2 or 3.I felt sick sooo sick. She tried to explain the rules. She told me I had to put my hair back. I chirped that I liked my hair back, wore it that way all the time, no problem. Anything to get me out of there. I never had much more than a paper bag or two the whole ten months I was on first phase. Everything was heat and funny smells and a bad taste in my mouth. I felt sick and confused and terrified all the time. Girls standing up in front of hundreds and talking about having sex with animals. Kids with drug lists a mile long. Rules rules rules.They need to be memorized right away. Being told I would never see my friends again. Lisa brought to the back of the group and being restrained-staff pryed her mouth open and held it open with a hairbrush so they could take her gum. Kids carving on their arms.Kids who stood up and listed off their days- one girl there more than a year and started over.Crying myself to sleep every night. Praying that I would wake up and it would be just a nightmare. Oatmeal at the Deshawn's house at the crack of dawn. Loss and homesickness and fear. Grief. I had a physical at some point in the first 2 weeks. That went so badly I checked out for days. Lost track of time altogether. I remember my first open meeting. I was supposed to be at an Eagles concert.I was supposed to be celebrating my birthday with my friends. I was sitting on front row. My first introduction. There were more than 600 in attendance-the group was at about 350 to 400. The quaking in my knees spread to my voice and soon to my whole body. Wanda Minton wicked witch of Frontage Rd.Dr Newton always red faced & angry, pacing.It was just too much. And it just went on and on and on. It didn't get better. I just got numb. Learned how to check out-get into your head. Listening to music, watching reruns of Gilligan's island, reliving a holiday. All without ever leaving my plastic blue chair.
It's late and I'm rambling. But those memories are so vivid!
I'm headed off to have happier dreams.
Night
When a well-packaged web of lies
has been sold gradually to the masses
over generations, the truth will seem
utterly preposterous and its speaker
a raving lunatic.
--Dresden James
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this ghey a$$ shirt today, LOL
Did you mean "gay"?
Wtf is "ghey"?
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God what a good description.
I haven't thought about this in a while. I remember going in and talking to a lady I always figured was the lady named "Mrs Meanes" although I really wasn't sure. I just learned her name on the COC and decided that was the fucking bitch lady that did my intake. Somehow made me feel better that was her name. She asked me what I thought was a ridiculously long list of drugs which seemed especially bizarre for her to keep going all the way down the list. Surely she would not want to waste more of her time seeing as how I already told her that I never did pot, mushrooms, inhalants, oh I can't remember what they all were. I think I remember starting to laugh at one point because it seemed so ridiculous. At the end though, she just looked up at me and told me that she thought I was lying and would be staying there for a little while. I started screaming at my mother. I had grown up with my father, and had just moved in with her a few months before because my dad was abusive. All he did was scream at me constantly and tell me how stupid I was. My mother repayed me for moving in with her by putting me in straight. You see, I wasn't quite the sweet, innocent FIVE YEAR OLD she remembered me being before she lost custody of me (by the way for being addicted to valium). So she wanted her little girl back. What she got instead is that I still think about her locking me up in that hell hole every day.
I remember being in a room with two girls for the whole day. They asked me a lot of weird questions about sex and I think one of them told me I should just go ahead and clear it up then so I wouldnt' have to admit it later in front of the whole group. I think she was trying to be nice. The other girl said something to her about just to let me say what I wanted.
So then finally I was put in some ridiculous looking clothes, and brought into the group. I remember the chanting, singing, the motivating, how everyone seemed so gung ho about being there and so completely...involved with being there. EVERYONE was dying to stand up and talk about how they were a drug addict and selfish and self-centered. It's like they couldn't get enough of it. What lunatics I thought. I had never done drugs except I smoked pot one time a year before. I thought for sure I would be getting out in 2 weeks.
Finally, I remember in this van on the way to some host home that night, I said to everyone that I thought I would be leaving in two weeks. I was told that would NEVER happen. I started crying. Actually, that was probably a real blessing since I didn't have to spend the whole freaking time waiting to get taken out, although of course I still hoped.
I was so happy when that night it iced over and we were stuck in that host home for a week because of it. I just thought every day how glad I was we didn't have to go to the building. But we still followed all the rules, bathing in groups in the bathroom all in front of each other, going to the restroom in front of each other, no talking, wearing strange clothes, eating raman noodles every night for dinner (which I ordinarily liked but that was all we had to eat plus I think oatmeal for breakfast). The windows in the bedroom were alarmed, although by the time I got to bed each night, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. This wasnt even while in group yet!
Finally, the day came that we were allowed to go back to the building. That started the confrontations and hysteria surrounding my supposed drug addiction, that I refused to admit cause I was so full of shit. I refused to admit it for maybe 3 months, until I finally decided to lie and made a whole list of stuff to clear up that I never really did. I had reached some sort of breaking point. Three months though!!!
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[ This Message was edited by: Withdraw on 2006-02-28 21:54 ]