Fornits
Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform => Straight, Inc. and Derivatives => Topic started by: Anonymous on April 28, 2006, 06:04:00 PM
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So here I sit ready for a supposed great weekend away when out of the blue - I can't function. I can't think straight, nothing makes sence, I don't know what I'm doing. I realize that I'm having a panic attack. I haven't had one in 10+ yrs. It's all from reading crap about Straight. How can that place fuck people up after 20+ years??? How can it suck us back in? All I can think to do is grap a drink and say fuck that place! What did they do to us? What did we allow people to do to us? And why the FUCK can't I get over this??????
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Welcome to my world and I'm sure a lot of others. Brainwashing is powerful, especially when the brain is developing at the same time.
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I get wicked panic attacks after checking in with Straight.
I do advocate a stiff drink and some alone time with your memories. It's good to let it flow for awhile, instead of trying to shut the faucet off.
Also remember that you were lied to. Whatever they said about you, it wasn't true. Just because a teenage cult calls you a drunk/whore/loser/slacker, whatever, DOESN'T mean it's true.
The truth is that Straight was a Republican scheme to reprogram dissidents and people with "charachter disorders'. It was the Gitmo of the Eighties. It happened, it's real, and it's completely fucking illegal. Yes.
The good news is that your'e alive, and in possesion of the facts now. You have hundreds of people here in this board who know EXACTLY, and I mean EXACTLY how the Oh My God I Was In Fucking Straight for TWO FUCKING YEARS attack goes.
Oh, and we didn't allow people to do this to us. We had no choice.
I'm sending you calm vibes right now.
Peace
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::fuckoff::
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Newton, your a fucking nigger. Can't wait to take a big ol' fat shit on your GRAVE, motherfucker...
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Fuck that -- I say we raid his funeral and set fire to his corpse after dousing it with grain alcohol!! I wanna see that cocksucker go up in FLAMES!!!!!!!
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I'm right there with ya buddy...and hey if the flames get to be too high we can always piss on him to douse them out a little...
Can't wait 'til that lying sack of shit fucking dies!! And may he suffer greatly before he finally goes... Die, die, DIE.... :skull: :skull: :grin:
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you all are WAY TOO fucked up for it to JUST come from being in a program. holy shit. it's in your blood and you continue to act and think as fuck ups all on your own. stop giving the program such credit for your messed up selves.
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How do you know ??? Do you know these people ??
$tr8 instilled major psychological repression in the young and impressionable minds of its prisoners.
Some days the light is just too diffused to cast a shadow, other days the light creates a strong contrast.
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On 2006-04-29 15:18:00, Anonymous wrote:
you all are WAY TOO fucked up for it to JUST come from being in a program. holy shit. it's in your blood and you continue to act and think as fuck ups all on your own. stop giving the program such credit for your messed up selves."
Newton was an ignoramus and a fraud! :exclaim:
It's "in our blood"? :roll:
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I see your point. Things just aren't that black an' white though. The program instilled major psychological repression.
The other night I was walkin' up the well lit street when I noticed a womans' legs first, and then the rest of her on the sidewalk across the street from me, about 70' away. I wanted to look again and see if she noticed me but I didn't look. I wanted to, and knew it was alright but couldn't bring myself to look. I kept my head down and kept walkin' and wondered; 'from whence the influence to cage my nature'. I remembered bein' in $tr8 and not bein' allowed to look at the girls, but stealin' 'em anyway. I want intimacy without looking, in a way. I want the girls on the girls side. I wondered WTF ?? I imagined my eyes openin'. I thought I understood some of my crazy behavior.
I hope someone sees something.
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Next time you get a panic attack, smoke a fatty.
As for the rest of it, I don't want to think about it.
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Hey Luke,
I see by your signature that you are only 16 now and that you were rescued from some crazy treatment center. I'm 37 now but I was in $tr8 when I was 16-18/19(including aftercare). What do you mean by "rescued" ?? I'm curious.
I wish someone would have rescued me. Once my so-called "druggie friends" actually came to the building and stood at the end of the dirveway to the parking lot. Staff had somehow been advised sometime earlier in the day that there might be some kind of a rescue attempt for me. I was even told about it at the same time that my oldcomer was told about it. The host parents were warned not to stop the car on the way out of the parking lot and I was warned not to try anything. As the car I was in approached the end of the driveway I could see about 5 of my friends standing there, some leaning on their car trying to identify which vehicle I was in. They never saw me. We drove right by. I was compliant at the time but silently distraught. I was held prisoner by $tr8 inc for 2 years.
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Let's just say that the place I was in got shut down by the authorities, and leave it at that.
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Okay...all the best.
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On 2006-04-28 18:39:00, Anonymous wrote:
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Oh, and we didn't allow people to do this to us. We had no choice.
I'm sending you calm vibes right now.
Peace
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Didn't we?? After hell, I spent another almost 7 years in therapy for many things. My therapist use to tell me that the only control that other people have over me is the control that I give them. If this is the case, which is what I have had to live with so that I don't get fucked over all the time, then this would mean that I allowed a part of this to happen to me? I didn't have to comply. I could have been like the other countless people that refused to give in, refused to comply, refused to believe anything that they were told. I don't know. I suppose it's all how you look at it.
And thanks for the "calm vibes." They helped - I think. Either that or it was the gallon of rum over the weekend! LOL
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I don't know how much your therapist knows about Straight. I know when I wen't to talk abut it with a therapist she'd never heard of it.
My point is that in Straight we didn't have a choice.
After the first week I realized the only way out that door was to confess to shit I didn't do, (I was 14, so I had maybe seven "druggie experiences" to write and talk about), and learn to work the language so I sounded like I 'got it'.
In the free world, yes you're right, we give control to others. But in a Behavior Modification program like Straight, your will is taken from you during the strip search.
You could have misbehaved, but then you would have spent four years there. The smartest thing to do was to comply, get out, and recover from Straight.
Now that you're out you can refuse to believe anything the fifteen year-old "specialists" told you about yourself. You can now be who you want.
You were fucked over, and those people have some very bad karma to beware. You only have to take a walk, breathe, and know you didn't deserve that.
Major revenge is best left to the universe. Your revenge on Straight can be peace, moderate happiness, and living by your own rules.
Love to you,
Squirrel
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You can't CON a CON. But you CAN con yourself.
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But what if I happen to be a con myself?? And don't gimme that "Everything after but.." bullshit.
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On 2006-04-28 15:04:00, Anonymous wrote:
"So here I sit ready for a supposed great weekend away when out of the blue - I can't function. I can't think straight, nothing makes sence, I don't know what I'm doing. I realize that I'm having a panic attack. I haven't had one in 10+ yrs. It's all from reading crap about Straight. How can that place fuck people up after 20+ years??? How can it suck us back in? All I can think to do is grap a drink and say fuck that place! What did they do to us? What did we allow people to do to us? And why the FUCK can't I get over this??????"
When I landed up in straight, inc., I thought I had a handle on everything. I had been playing this game for a decade already as all but the oldest of my brothers and sisters went through the Seed. But this was different. This was major league, intense and w/o breaks. I had tried or thought through every other option. I playing along at home/school. But
When I ran up against Algebra and French and had real difficulty, Mom checked off the "slipping grades" item from her little list. When I was a little pup, it had been easy to go along w/ mom to church and conscription as a Seed vulunteer, to never even try having a friend for fear my mom would impose her dark fantasies of druggiedome on them and me. But when adolescence hit, I got a big surprise; I needed friends and male attention, independence, my own style and taste. And I couldn't have them, too risky. And so I became very frustrated and sad. I couldn't hide my lonliness anymore. That sadistic mindfucker, Art Barker, had redifined all of these things as "signs of drugiedome". I didn't dare confess any of this to anyone in my life; they were all Seed spies whether they knew it or not.
At some point, I realized it was inevitable, I was doomed to the Program, it was only a matter of time. So I decided to go ahead and find out what's so fun about all those crazy things I'd heard about over and over at open meetings and those hundreds of impromptu raps that had replaced spontaneous conversation around our 8 seat dinner table and at those endless clatches at Denney's. I was checking off my own list. Smoke pot, check; steal the family car, check; get laid, check; smoke cigarettes, check (yuck! worst mistake I ever made, I think, or at least the most intractible)
When it finally got to the breaking point, as I knew it would, I made my very vague plans for escape. That was the last item on my list; go hitchhiking around the country to find all kinds of druggie fun and adventure. One piece was missing from that plan, though. I had been so isolated, so cloistered, that I wouldn't know a dead head tribe or congenial get along if it came up and gave me a full on, sloppy, deep throat tongue kiss. So I just stuck w/ the truckers; a culture I knew well enough from my dad and uncle to navigate more-or-less safely.
I thought I was never coming back till I came of age and would be safe from the Seed. I just didn't know enough or have the social skills to find a place to park for two years. So the inevitable happened; I had to go back home. I thought I'd land in the Seed, but for some reason Art wouldn't take me. I think it was a case of heaven doesn't want me and hell's afraid I'll take over.
But then came Str8. Big surprise. So I resigned myself to keep my own thoughts a little further back, way on a back channel while I demonstrated that I was quite straight enough, thanks very much, till I could split, graduate or come of age. I didn't realize that I could be brainwashed or fundamentally changed. Most people don't know it, while it's happening or even years or decades later, even if it's blatantly obvious to anyone who's paying attention.
But I changed. Oh yeah, I did. Where I once was a warrior at need, I became the ice godess full time. Jadedness and distance became an integral part of my personality.
So, I have had panic attacks over the years, and at the oddest times for reasons that are really quite inobvious. One I remember well because it was just so damned funny. I had sort of washed out of lead generation at a telemarketing job, but I was reliable and articulate. So the manager decided to try me as 'assistant manager' (closer). My very first lead was something to remember. It was this nice little old lady who had just been thinking about having her carpet cleaned for some reason anyway. A pushover if ever there was one. But it was also a test before an audience. There I was in the middle of the pit (desks arranged in a square so that all of my peers-up-to-ten-minutes-ago) had nothing to look at but me, trying to carry off my new role as their semi-boss.
I didn't think of it at the time, but it was just way too much like leading a rap. I had done that once or twice, just teaching Group a song or you'll remember those mornings in the intake room when the highest phaser, even 2nd, would lead the 'group' (of humans as sardines) in a 'song rap' till they let us out into the big group room. It would have been an 'on the spot' kind of situation for anyone. But me? I started shaking and hyperventilating. It occured to me that, to this nice old lady, it might sound like an obscene phone call. If that weren't funny enough, I could see my co-workers, some of whom were really cool and interesting people, start to look a bit alarmed; "WTF is going on there! You see this shit?" Oh, and did I mention that, for the purpose of this job, I had reverted to using my given name? Bone headed move, that one! I should have made one up!
So there I am, heart pounding, heavy breating, wondering what the customer thought. I think I told the lady it was an asthma attack. I'm bursting to just fall on the floor laughing my ass off, wondering what my friends must be thinking, which only made me want to laugh harder. I did close the deal, too, damn it!
But it's these unexpected triggers that bring on the dark goonies in my mind. The ones you see coming, well you can brace yourself for those.
What is it about a weekend away? Where you were going? Why? Who you would see? Don't tell me or us. Just try and figure that one out. If you understand why that's a trigger, you might just reclaim some misplaced part of yourself and be better for it.
Good night and good luck!
As your attorney, it is my duty to inform you that it is not important that you understand what I'm doing or why you're paying me so much money. What's important is that you continue to do so.
--Hunter S. Thompson's Samoan Attorney
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On 2006-04-29 16:39:00, Luke Stephens wrote:
"Next time you get a panic attack, smoke a fatty.
As for the rest of it, I don't want to think about it.
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good advice...thanks :smokin:
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On 2006-05-03 17:35:00, groovy1634 wrote:
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good advice...thanks ::cheers:: [ This Message was edited by: Eudora on 2006-05-03 20:47 ]
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Squirrel,your posting was by far and away,the best posting I read yet.I'm starting to realize why I don't feel the same hostility towards those idiots at Straight as the others.I WANTED to be there!My mother was married to a bullying tyrant who nobody could contradict under any circumstances.He was one of those assholes who didn't care if was in the right,just as long as he was in charge.They had to commit me somewhere as I started to run away.The more independent one came,the further they had to get away from him.So as messed up as it was(and it WAS messed up),at least had some arbitration power in dealing with him.Having children of my own opened up my eyes in so many ways.I experienced the most severe moodswings after my daughter was born.All this time,I thought it was women who were supposed to experience post-partum.I couldn't cope with the emotion of deeply felt joy.Everytime I felt myself wanting to love my infant daughter,some kind of rage would well up in me.It was time to confront my past for real,if not for my sake,for hers.In my case,liking Straight because it was better than home,is more messed up than blaming Straight for everything.When that was my best time,imagine my worst.
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I don't see a post by squirrel on this thread... plz explain. :???:
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Whoa:
I'm sorry you had a shitty home life. I understand how those memories are magnified by having a child of your own. Maaan. If Straight was good, your parents must have been something else.
But let me be clear, I didn't want to be there. I had just turned 14 and got caught drinking with my friends at the beach. My parents put me in there, and then my brother had to come in too. Oh, and then four other kids from my town. They were wondering where we'd been.
My resume as a druggie consisted of exactly six incidents of pot and alcolhol which I had to stretch out in Moral inventories for 15 months. I ran away from the Virginia program the day they put me on third phase. I was caught, and brought back. The whole thing was horrible, and made me very wary of people in general.
My only point in posting is this:
THE WAR IS OVER. YOU CAN GO HOME NOW.
True, some version of Straight still exist, and we can post our experiences all over the place, so that people will know how horrible Behavior Modification is, especiialy if the person (me) did not require lockdown residential, tough love.
I wish you the best.
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Sorry, that was me. Forgot to log in.
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I really appreciate your postings.Remember a couple of things,Straight was in its infancy when I was there(I never heard of Miller Newton,thank whoever!).They had some altruistic aims as The ICATS interviews with founders who resigned after the 1st year can vouch for.A lot of the insanity many of you speak of did not happen to me,maybe because the power machine wasn´t in place yet,to protect things.Jimmy Carter was President when I was there.So it wasn´t nice,but ,for me,it wasn´t hell.However,this forum is helping me greatly in getting in touch with my true feelings towards my situation back then.Thank you for everything!
Love and Peace!
SAM
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Oh, okay.
I didn't know there was a milder version of Straight. Hmmmm.
Indeed, Jimmy Carter. The good old Days. Amazing what three decades does to the sentiment. He looks like a wise and capable man to me now. I just remember everyone hated him soooo much back then.
He's the type of Christian who doesn't give me the creeps. He wouldn't say shit about God if he had a mouth full of it. He just goes out and helps poor people build houses.
Anyway, don't worry too much about Straight. There's a reason the Board of Helath shut them down, and it's not because they were too altruistic.
File it in you head under Wierd Abusive Treatment Center For Non-Existing Drug Problem, and call it a day.
Squirrel
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file it under "i failed the jch accredidations" for my insurance file.......for va anyway
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On 2006-05-01 04:21:00, Anonymous wrote:
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On 2006-04-28 18:39:00, Anonymous wrote:
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Oh, and we didn't allow people to do this to us. We had no choice.
I'm sending you calm vibes right now.
Peace
"
Didn't we?? After hell, I spent another almost 7 years in therapy for many things. My therapist use to tell me that the only control that other people have over me is the control that I give them. If this is the case, which is what I have had to live with so that I don't get fucked over all the time, then this would mean that I allowed a part of this to happen to me? I didn't have to comply. I could have been like the other countless people that refused to give in, refused to comply, refused to believe anything that they were told. I don't know. I suppose it's all how you look at it.
And thanks for the "calm vibes." They helped - I think. Either that or it was the gallon of rum over the weekend! LOL"
We were kids locked in a warehouse and bolted and alarmed into strangers' bedrooms. Every possible piece of personal power was taken from us. We never "gave them control", they took it when we were underage. We were in prison, isolated from the rest of the world, under a regime of tyranny. They didn't want our cash crops, they wanted to crush our souls.
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On 2006-05-04 14:15:00, Sam Kinison wrote:
I never heard of Miller Newton,thank whoever
Miller Newton touched my junk liberally. He strapped me in to his Straightmobile and he
couldn't keep his offensive hands off of me. He was performing many red flag touches. I
couldnt believe what the fuck was going on. I told Miller Newton the city would not approve
of a millionaire touching an underage kid for free. Can you believe it? Miller Newton did all this. He picked me off the street, strapped my arms and legs down in the Straightmobile's passenger seat, and just wouldn't stop fondling my cock'n'balls.
They definately were red flag touches. The goddamn referee he had in the back seat kept on
raising up this red flag every time he touched my junk but did "Dr." Newton care? NO WAY! He
just kept on doing it. I couldn't believe what the fuckwas going on, indeed. I pleaded with
Miller Newton but to no avail. I told him the city would not approve of such a wealthy man
touching an underage kid like me (at the time I was 13) without at least compensating me for
the trauma and the use of my body as his own personal plaything.
This got to him, worrying about his image. he continued to fondle me, all the while ignoring
the referee's red flags. Then he drove the Straightmobile to my house and ejected the seat I was in! It was amazing. But surprisingly, after I woke up the next morning, my bank account had $150k in it!!! Can you believe it?????????????????????????