Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform > CAN ~ Collective Action Network

Katie's Story

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katiesthoughts:
sorry its been so long you guys, what with school and graduation coming up i have been extremely busy. yes maruska i am ok. i was sick on monday and tuesday so i couldnt really make it to the computer to post, vomiting and a keyboard dont mix well. lol.  ook. lets see. my granma and i had our conversation. ::puke::  :waaaa:  :eek:  :eek:

A few days after i heard from my grandmother my mom and I  were drinving an she told me that i was beginning to be more tha she could deal with she said something along the lines of " I cant help you ike i thought i could." she told me that I was going back to my dad's for a week to have a small vacation. i was immediatly  plaugued with guilt. i knew i had really messed up this time. not only had i let my mom down but i had proven myself right, that i was too much for anyone. My dad and diane didnt  want me, and my mom didnt want me either. I was beginning to feel like i wasnt wanted anywhere. so i got home and i packed. In my mind i thought that this little "vacation" was going to be good for me, to see my family and get my shit together so i could successfully live with my mom. what i didint know is that this little "vacation" woul turn inot 3 1/2 years. Thinking back now on those last hours with my  mom, i was so naive. she was so formal about htis whole thng. she said i would see her in a week, and that i didnt need to wrry abouyt anything. i was told that i had a ticket backto new mexico. i didnt knwo was that my round ticket stopped in dayton ohio. I held nicky for the last time on september 17 of 2005. he was so hppy then i felt like i was going through hell just to leave him for a week and i didnt realize that i was probably never going to see him again. :heartbreak:  :cry:  If i would have known i would have held onto him and never let go.

I said goodbye to my mom. i thought i would see her in a week, and i didnt understand why she was crying. I kept telling her that i would be home soon, to take care of nickey etc. She kept telling me, I know baby, i know. I got on the plane, and said goodbye to new mexico, my mom, and to nicholas.

The flight was uneventful. I got to dayton. I dont remember if it was morninng or night. i got home and my family was there to greet me. i was happy to see them, afterall i was on vacation. I remember bits and pieces of that week. i remember seeing madagascar as a family. Thinking of it i had no clue what was about to happen. I remember sleeping alot. my dad was home from work to spend time with me (I thought) I do remember going into our basement bedrom and seeing a suitcase packed with some things. i thougtht diane was going on a trip. I didnt realize that the suitcase with the stuff was intened for me, the pillow and toothbrush was mine. the hair ties, toothpaste, scrunchies, and brush were mine. the plastic bin. The stationary. It was all intended for me. I went on about my routine. I slept in all week. I entertained myself. I didnt realize that on thursady night i was going to be woken up at 3 am in the morning. i didnt relaize that i wasn't ever going to see nicholas again. i didnt realize that i was not only going to a boarding school/correctional facility/program. I ddnt relaize that I was going to be 1500 miles away from anyone i knew or loved in 24 hours.

Thursday started out normal i guess. I dont remember what happened during the day. I think we went to dinner, or something. I do remember watching a televsion show when my dad told me to get to bed. I got angry at him. I didnt get why my older brother could watch the rest of the show if he had school in the morning, and i was on vacation. The fight began. The smallest thing triggered it for me. I dont know why it made me so mad... I just snapped. I had to be held down for a long time. I remeber trying to fight my dad and brother. diane got into it, and i yelled things i shouldnt have. i didnt want her in my life. it seemed that everytime i had a blow up she was there to antagonize it. My dad tried to get me to take my meds, because he knew as well as i did that they would calm me down. Seroquel and zoloft. Seroquel would calm me down and make me sleep. zoloft would even out my moods. I didnt want to be forced to take them so i pretended to take them. I was let up off the floor, but i had spit them out , and hid them under my hand. I tried to run for my room, but my dad saw them on the floor. the fight began again. I finally gave in when i had to go to the bathrrom. It was over, and i was crying like a baby. I took my meds. My dad held me in bed for a while, as they took effect playing soothing music, and rubbing my back. I cried and cried. I felt so bad after the meltdowns. finally i closed my eyes and fell asleep.

3:10 am: I woke up to find my dad shaking me gently. there was a man and a woman in the room that i didnt recognize. they had handcuffs on their belts and what looked like a tazer. my dad left with the man as the lady told me to get dressed in something confortable.I was in a  long shirt and underwear, but I did so still groggy and confused. She toldme i was going to a boarding school fo 6 weeks to help me get btter. I didnt argue. I think i was too scared to push her. Plus i was still sleepy, and i knew i needed help. I started packing my things, when she told me i didnt need anything. I gave her a look of confusion. I grabbed a pen and paper and a book anyway. She called the man back in the room. He told me that we could make this easy or hard. they told me to hold my hands sat my sies as i walked down the stairs. They were on either side of me. I was taken out of my house and put into the back seat of a car. i was scared at this point... my dad got into the front seat backwards and tried to say good bye. I didnt look at him . I didnt want to go and i was scared.

The drive was fine i tried to ask questions but all i got in respomse is a short term boarding school for 6 weeks. i didnt know where. I kept asking to talk to my dad. The man said i could call him when we got to las vegas. We got to las vegas. The man didnt make any move to let me talk to my parents. I decided to call him on my own. I saw the lady go inot the bathroom. The man had his back turned and i began dialing collect on the payphone. He saw me, then grabbed the phone. his other arm  grabbed my arm and slammed the phone down. His grip was like steel and boy did it hurt.
I was put into another car, this one a van. The lady sat in the back with me, and there was no conversation this time. He was so mad at me for trying to call. He told me i could call my dad didnt he? Finally i saw it. A bug white builfing that looked like an old floks home. I saw cross creek for the first time, and i didnt know it then, but it would be my home for 3 1/2 years. :-  :eek:

maruska:
Katie!
Glad to see you again and Thanks for sharing.I know it must be hard to write your story.I can only imagine how hard it must have been to live it.
I still don´t understand how anybody can do this to his own child... just the thought of it makes me sick. Whats wrong with those people?!?

FemanonFatal2.0:
Wow i remember that feeling. You didn't have even the slightest instinct that your "vacation" was a scam? when my mom told me to come home for a "vacation" I kinda knew something big was coming.

anyway looking forward to your next installment.

katiesthoughts:
oh, my god, i am so sorry it hasd een so long you guys. well for those of you who do know me, you know i have been extremely busy, with graduating from high school! Yep. i am officialy a high school graduate fee and clear of the primary education system, lol. Anyways back to the story. I will probablybe writing again soon, i am getting a lap to for graduation so it will be a lot easier to write with access to internet whenever i want lol.

so, i saw cross creek. I remember sitting in the van, then when i got out, two men escorted me onto the premesis. I remember seeing the key cards, and asking them, "We are LOCKED in?" Thye seemed to laugh at my so called "joke". It was about 1 o clock in the after noon by the time we arrived at CCM. I was taken through the courtyard to one of the intake rooms, an boy... i felt like a freak show. I was being stared at, and pointed at, and talked about. I was the new kid on campus, and the only thing i could think of in my head was "Oh, great. I'm the fresh meat. here comes torture." Suprisingly, i was calm, and collected, however scared I was. Intake... dear god..

I was seated in the room with staff as i filed out paper work. I remember thinking to myself, "I am dreaming." or "This is surreal" I felt like the very paper was mocking me. "Why are you here?" was one of the questions. I was tempted to write, "I dunno, why the hell dont you tel me?" But, i could even finish the PACKET they gave me, because the girls walked in. 4 high phase girls, were there t answer my questions, but mostly they asked me questions. I answered them, but i dont even remember them now. I do remember listening to them talk about the program, the trips they took, the activites, such as line dancing, and choir and basketball, hikes, and kitchen work...
I just listened. One of the girls was my hope buddy, and she talked the most out of them all. I immediately like her, and when they "had to leave" she hugged me. It had been a long time so as akward as it was i just sat there.


I was told that i needed to take a shower. I thought i would get some privacy and cool off, wash off the reminders of the day... Nope.

I was told to take off my clothes, and I was given a towel. Ok. it is extremely hard to take off your clothes, while trying to cover yourself up. anyway.
I wasnt allowed to do it without supervision, instead i had to be watched to make sure i wasnt hiding anything.The woman watching me, was SCARY. She reminded me of a viking woman. she was very tall, and very large, with an expression devoid of anything...I felt like i was in a bad movie... there was alos a really nice woman, skinny, and kind. I was told to kick them my clothes, but to keep my bra and underwear.I was then told to get into the shower. I was relieved. i thought that  they would stop watching me, but yet again i was worng. They told me tosquat with the door open and cough. I guess they were making sure i wasnt hiding drugs in my butt.Then they had to "inventory my scars."I was told to sit on the toilet.
They had a nurse come in, and mark down every single scar,and mark on my body, then proceeded to ask me how old each one was, and god, i wanted to scream at them. I had fresh cuts on my arms and legs. So they loked at those, and asked it i had cleaned them. i lied, (thinking they would pour alcohol on me) saying i had. After the nurse left, they said i could get dressed.
"In what?"The skinny woman, handed me an orange shirt, and navy blue pants and said, "Here hunny." I finished getting on my underwear and bra and shirt. The first pair of pants didnt fit. Neither did the second. Or the third. The skinny woman did something i will never forget. She loooked at me (At this point i was in tears and I was nervous as hell, because they were talking about not having my size.) And said,"Dont worry about a thing darlin. I'll just go get you something." This comlplete stranger left, went to the store, and bought me brand new sweat pants and pajama pants, until the program could order my size.
I then had to get my hair wet, so they could "nix me". With that finished i was told that my "intake was over and i could go meet my group, and spend time with my hope buddy. I hadnt eaten yet so i sat in the middle of a hallway and they brought me something to eat; while my hope buddy sat next to me, chattering away...and even though my head was down i knew every eye in the entire hallway was fixated on me.

katiesthoughts:
You know that feeling... like you have forgotten something, but somehow, no matter how hard you try  can remember? The last few week have been like that for me. I am not going to make excuses for  why I haven’t written in so long simply because there are none. Thinking about it... i guess i was afraid. i was afraid of confronting what I thought would never resurface again... my program.  I guess I was afraid of the fact that i would open up old wounds that  were just starting to heal… I guess what I am trying to say is that I was scared. Sometimes I look back on former posts and I think to myself  “Look! People care!” I guess I was afraid that after my story was out there… I wouldn’t be important anymore… like a notch I someone’s belt, its there, but after a while people forget the significance of it.

Then… someone said something to me. She told me that the importance was to heal. Not to be well-liked or read, but to heal, and by  not writing I Have been doing the exact opposite.  I almost forgot why I Had started writing in the first place… to tell my side. To let my story be heard. To stand up for myself and stop what happened to me, from happening to anyone else… Someone else told me recently that we have to confront our fears. We have to dig deep and think about what may have happened to us in the past. THAT is the only way we will be able to heal our wounds… I guess I was afraid that instead of healing I would be hurting over and over again.

When you get a cut on your hand for instance. The doctor stitches you up, and tells you to be careful. You go home and you don’t listen and in the end, your stitches pull and you have to see the doctor again. You listen. Yes that last time hurt… but you realize that the doctor was right. For some people they have to pull open those stitches to learn. For others you can just be told. For me, I have to pull open the stitches… and once I do… then, and only then can I heal.


For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Katie Carter. I am Cross Creek survivor.  And I am opening my stitches.

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