Fornits

Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora
An open discussion about the troubled parent industry

Omg...thanks nun-ya. Yes, the hokey pokey was a big one. So was that song I can't stand to hear now, something about "kittens and mittens" and "these are few of my favorite things." All these joyous (yeah right) songs. It feels so good to get this out after all this time. I don't know why now all of the sudden, but I'm just glad I found this forum. I didn't have a menstrual period for the entire time I was there, and I wasn't allowed to see a Dr. (or dentist) for the duration. Yes, and the one dixie cup of water...

Why hasn't Art been prosecuted?

After a year, I stood up for myself after asking to be "graduated" (which we all know means, Let me the Hell outta here) and being denied, I finally told them I would tell my parents everything, and lo and behold, I "grad-u-"f-ing"-ated" the next week. There were no lock downs in Ft. Lauderdale; you were at the mercy of your peers local families. I had to come over from Ft. Myers, so those of us not fortunate enough to live at or go home, had it to really suck it up.

Fortunately, today, I no longer have to ask to use the bathroom, or tell an intimidating male or female if I have to go #1 or #2. But the memories, while somewhat repressed, still haunt me today.

Until last night, like some sort of epiphany, I realized that that part of my life could explain for a lot of the things I feel now. I felt betrayed by my parents for putting me there, although I've always professed to love them very much. I remember not being able to tell them what really went on in there for fear they would raise Hell, and I, in turn, would wind back up on the "front row." Remember the "front row?" It's your worst nightmare; means you had to start ALL over again from the beginning. Like a jailed inmate counting down his/her days to freedom all goes away in the blink of an eye because of some perceived wrong by "them". Suzy Barker, Art's niece, Libby McDonald, just plain bitch are some of the few I remember. I remember having to clap, smile and sing some special song whenever Art graced us with his presence. We were told, but I never saw, the famous "Jackie Gleason Limo" he would pull up in; presumably given to Art by Jackie because they were such good friends. I remember falling to the ground from heat exhaustion outside performing forced exercises (no A/C indoors, remember), and the famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches made in the early a.m. but not served to us for hours later, while the jelly would roll down my wrists. Couldn't go the the bathroom though to wash up...constantly accused of lying about needing to use the bathroom. Accused of wanting to get out of the current "rap session" bc it must be hitting too close to home for me. I remember making stuff up to stand up and speak just so I wouldn't be the one they "hit" on that day. "Standing you up", I think they called it. I remember spending the night in stranger's homes dying to ask them for some food to eat, but feeling rude for thinking it instead. In retrospect, Art had no overhead. The staff were "volunteers", PBJ's were the standard food, the strangers fed you in the morning and at night if you were lucky; there was no A/C costs, the chairs you could pick up at any garage sale, and so my parent's hard earned money went straight into the bastard's pockets. I think it's only fair that he participate in funding my therapy today. I have so much more to say, but I need to know if anyone is really listening to this. I've needed to say this for over 36 years now. Thanks.