Fornits

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

Being new to the board here, I can only assume the flood of frustrating memories are more or less typical. The memories are riddled with lack of detail. I can guess that a large reason for this is the time seperating me from the experiences of that time period. Another guess would be that consumption of copiuos quantities of cannabis may also be a factor. A third possible reason would be that my brain is simply refusing to cooperate with my desire to take a look at significant chunk of my adolesence, which of course I know bled into my early adulthood and no doubt into my present mindset. I recall a saying/cliche that used to be said...."Thats OLD behavior" and I used to think to myself..."Well, if I am NOW doing what ever it is that is being called OLD behaviour, then it would be CURRENT behaviour"...Even early on in the game, I was all caught up in the semantics. I digress.

In the brief time I have been frequenting this board I have experienced a surge of what I will call "Up and coming memories". That is to say, that most of the experience has been purely emotional with glimpses of faces and circumstances. Steering these emotions, these fragmented memories has been an intense desire to purge. I had mentioned in a previous post (here or another site) that I had hoped not to be opening Pandoras Box. But as fate would have it, I do believe this has been the case. First line of defense has been to tell myself, "Fuck this, why would I wanna do this to myself...there is no clear outcome in dredging all this up...To hell with all this, this website, these people, blah blah blah etc etc etc"

On the other hand, I have never experienced such a sense of validation. Validation? But why would I need to be validated for my experience? I don't need to be reminded of the time spent in...hell. I don't need to be reminded of the sense of insecurity, a feeling of being "less-than" those who surround me. I don't need to have the enormious sense of loss brought up again, and again, and again. If this is the reality of the situation, fantasy and denial seems most comforting, thank you very much!

But what of this "validation" thing? This sense of "validation" is tangable, as evidenced by the countless hours I have spent reading and reading the accounts of the members of this board. The results of reading your experiences have have effected me in such a way that I can not fully begin to explain as of yet. But I will try to do so.

First of all, I must apologize for the word, "Validation". It conjours up the mental image of a parking gargage. Park, leave, pay for that time in the garage, recieve the receit and hand that receit to someone and  then be reembursed for that payment. It may not be the word I am looking for, but it points to the experience.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I have worked in several facilities (Detox, Crisis Units and various psyhic units) since my time in Straight. From time to time it seemed appropriate to mention my time in Straight, both with patients and fellow professionals. Perhaps in my own passive/aggressive manner, this was my way of saying..."Please understand!". The responces from people never taught me that this was a good idea. The vast range of reactions went from silence to placated lip service, but never, NEVER did anyone say to me "Yeah, I know, I was there, I feel/felt the same way".

Sadly, in the Mental Health field my peers often not only privately viewed me differently, but also treated me differently. As if...'he is really no better than our patients'. How infuriating! Of course I am no better than the patients we served, that wasn't what it was all about...or was it? Wasn't it about assuring the heroin addict that I wouldn't allow his/her head to sink to the bottom of the toilet while they hurled thier guts out? Wasn't it about making sure the alcholic detoxing didn't have thier blood pressure blow a hole in the sides of an artery? Didn't helping people mean making sure the detoxing alcoholic's seizure was addressed immediately to assure the didnt' crack thier coconut on the concrete? Or was it more important to focus on the fact I was in Straight for almost 3 years? Was it important to negate my efforts in working with people because I was in Straight?

The stigma of once being in Straight while I worked in the Mental Health field was not short lived. The faces changed and the surroundings changed, the milleu changed...but the responce/reaction was always the same. Sometimes the responce/reaction was immediate, other times it came on more slowly, not unlike a malignate cancer growing and spreading. Because of my experience in Straight there would forever be eyebrows raised by powers that be in the Mental Health field...Those that knew what Straight was, hated and despised Straight, but had no real understanding of what myself and countless others endured. No one ever said, 'Wow, and you survived" and then tossed me a cookie. In my experience it was just the opposite.

Any logical individual that would hear & or read this might say: "Hey, why don't you just keep your mouth shut about it and play the game?" But then again I wasn't taught to be logical now was I. I was taught to be "honest". Yes, be as "honest" as I am capable of being and then search for how I could be more and more "honest" lest I suffer the wrath of....being confronted?

I believe my internal landscape is damaged beyond repair and I have no real hope that recovery is possible. I think that during THAT time my mind was like freshly poured concrete. The Straight experience was not unlike a bunch of children playing in that fresh cement. Craving initials and various symbols into the cement as it cured. Now hardened, the cement is impassable and a general eyesore (it certainly aint pretty). Not being a contractor, I don't know if this can be repaired or not. If my time during and after Straight has taught me anything, it would be that I am capable of enduring enourmous amount of pain for an incredible amount of time. Now thats something to be proud of huh? Yeah, right.

This past week has taught me, my experiences are no longer my own. To be sure, my exact experiences may not be like those of any other. Yet, the under current, the pulse, the nature of the experiences are not unlike any other here. I have always reserved the word "survivor" for victims of the Holocaust, Hiroshama, Natural Disastors, the sinking of the Titanic and September 11th 2001. I am now rethinking my definition of the word. I am now considering myself a "survivor". Certainly not discounting the experience of other types of "survivors", merely adding myself to thier ranks.

My experiences have been "validated", after all this time I am understood and I can say with 100% certainty, I understand.

These words, this writting and those to come are....

In Peace

(now it's time to curl up with the PS2 and a good first person shooter game and blow the shit out of something/someone...a very cathartic experience)

Along with Bananna Spiders, another great favorite was to put cock roaches in the microwave also. Why this was funny at the time is really anyones guess, but as 85DJ said. "It was cool". Reading the post again brought back more memories. I remember I did some messed up stuff there in that house. Although it was never brought to the groups attention (Thank God) it was handeled in house. Without going into explicit details, I will say it was the first time I ever "confessed" directly to a persons face, namely the house mother. In addition to apologizing to the house mother...dad was there also. As 85DJ mentioned he was ex-military and that only served to heighten my fear. I was however terribly remorsefull for what I had done and I truely felt horrible. I don't remember exactly how they responded/reacted to my purging of guilt/shame...but I do remember being "forgiven" and I felt "forgiven"....wow, what a concept, and what felt like a brand new experience. To this day as I look back checking my "forgiven status" by others, this incident is the one that stands out the most, perhaps it was my first. (and only?)

That home, to the best of my memory, was the most remarkable. I never really knew what a "normal" house hold was like, perhaps I give them too much credit, but they were the most "normal" people I had known up until that time. I felt safe there, I definately felt sheltered there. I am sure as in any family there was some messed up crap going on behind the scenes that I was un-aware of or simply don't remember. I know that family was one of the primary reasons I was on first phase for soooooo long, I remember thinking to myself that it never really mattered if I went home or not.

For whatever reason I remember it as a type of sanctuary from the horrors of the 9-to-9 grind. As 85DJ alluded to, there was alot of ball busting, but to my memory it lacked the venimious hatred that was latter experienced throughout the rest of my time in Straight. I remember the oldcomers coming into group afterschool and thinking "ahhhh not much longer...and we can go home". I never felt attacked by the two brothers and in fact they were good sports...One of our favorite things to do to one of them was to, as we were about to sleep, was to blurt out..."Hey, can ya hear 'L' breathing?" This for some reason drove him insaine---hearing his on breath repeatedly. Why this was fun? I dunno, I guess I never really knew if it really bothered him or not...but there was a sense of equality...he was no better than I was and after a day of belittleing condemnation it was fun to let our hair down and just be boys.

It was so odd reading 85DJ's account of the Ice-Tea routine. At the time I was reading it, I was drinking a huge glass of Ice-Tea (oddly still a favorite) I almost spewed the mouthfull I had all over my monitor. I began to think about all the feelings I have in regards to Straight. I have said many times that my feelings were mixed. This household, these parents, those oldcomers make up the majority of what good memories I have of that time. Perhaps I was naieve, and maybe inregards to that time period, I am still naieve. Yet, they are amoungst the best memories of my time in Straight. Considering they are among the few (good memories) that I do have...I will continue to call that home, that family, those parents and those oldcomers---Good Memories

kpickle39--->Thanks for the responce. If you knew Scott, you knew me and chances are I know you.

85 Day Jerk---> I know exactly who you are. I saw your name on the yahoo site and quickly put it all together. I have scoured this particular site for your posts and I am astounded by your sense of memory. I espiecally enjoyed ( I use that word loosely) your posts on the "Tampa Screw-Up". I have a sense of memory regarding that time period, but unfortunately the meories are fragmented at best.

One of my favorite (again the words are used loosely) memories of you specifically is you recieting the song by Queen, Bohemiean Rhapsody. I don't recall the particualr circumstances, but I do recall thinking to myself, "Damn, this guy can remember the entire song, word for word and I can't even remember my phone number"---I was on 1st phase for almost a year, most of which was spent at (last name witheld) home with L&L--I remember them treating me as one of there own children...(sigh)

I think I may have spent a brief time in your home off of 49th street, I can't remember if I lived there or not, perhaps I was a "drop-off", who knows. I also remember thinking that you were a classic, sure there were JERK's before and after you (as you know), but you were the best!!! You had such a phenominal sense of comedic timing. I recall you went thru a phase were during some rap and the emotions were particualry thick you would holler out "Guy's Medications" and like automatons a quarter of the group would stand and begin to file towards the rear of the building. I am litelally laughing my ass off as I type this.

I didn't go to Dixie Hollins, I was thrown in a school down the street from there, Thom Howard Academy (now defunct), alledgedly a college prep school, but actually it was a school that accepted those of us that were no longer premitted in the Pinellas County School system. As if Straight wasn't bad enough being in a that school sucked big time, I was an instant out-cast....Damn, I remember my mother saying "This should be the happiest time of your life, my highschool days were" WTF??? I rember thinking to myself, "God, just kill me now"

She had no clue...seriously, no clue. I spent my days in school doing my best not to get my ass kicked because I was a "Straightling/Narc" and the rest of the waking hours in the confines of the Morgan Yacht building...it's no wonder I am still waiting on my first childhood.

Oh BTW, you may remember who I am this way: When my parents addressed me in the open meeting they always finished by saying, "We love you Mr.D" and the entire room would chant in return "WE LOVE YOU MR.DEEEEEEEEEE" Sickening, what was once a term of endearment by my family, will forever make me cringe. (and now I cry while writting this.....whats up with that)

Obviously ya saw my website and my work, I am glad ya enjoyed it. I have great difficulty creating "pleasant/pretty" work....happens from time to time, but not often....the rage always has a way of shinning thru despite my best efforts, contaminating most everything.
I will give ya a holler via Private Message.
Peace

Just curious to know who all are survivors during the Milton Roy Building and Morgan Yacht Building daze.

My Intake Date: January 21st, 1978

Just found this board and the yahoo group...Gawd knows why I did a search on Staight after all this time. Not really sure if I am glad I did, or not. Afraid it might just all be a big can of worms...but then again, you folkz are probably the only ones that know what it was like.