Ask a guy who spent a year in secret prisons for teens anything.
spl1ff
Semo-Regulars
Usually they come and get you at night in your room. Two off duty cops, ex-military, or just big black guys yank you out of your bed. They handcuff you and drive you to an airport. They say you're going somewhere to get help, and you'll be home soon. I was luckier. My parents flew me to Florida for a "vacation." I spent four days on the beach. They didn't fly me home.
"Either get on this plane to Salt Lake City," they said, "or people will come and force you to get on this plane." I cooperated. I had been to rehab before, so it couldn't be so bad. Maybe a month or two. Oh, brothers, how wrong I was. I sit here typing this almost two years later. I still haven't seen home. I still haven't laid in my own bed. I still haven't seen any of my friends.
I landed in Salt Lake. Two people from the program drove me to Duchesne, Utah. They explained that this was going to be a wilderness program and I would be living in the mountains. They wouldn't say how long. When we got to Duchesne, they stripped me naked with the exception of a t-shirt. They took all of my belongings. They gave me a green sweater and green wool pants, and an enormous backpack. Then we got back in the car.
They drove for what felt like about two hours. The scenery became increasingly remote as we traveled deeper and deeper into the desert. Then, we stopped abruptly. In the distance I saw the smoke from a fire and a blue tarp. A bearded man approached the truck. They threw me my pack. I walked with him up a hill to the camp.
There were probably four or five kids at the camp. They laid on the ground (chairs were a privilege and had to be earned) scattered around the fire. The first thing I noticed was how incredibly dirty all of them were. Their hair was wildly unkempt. Dirt and soot caked their faces. Beards were stained black from smoke.
I feel like this is becoming long winded. I'll continue in a separate post if you guys want to hear more.
"Either get on this plane to Salt Lake City," they said, "or people will come and force you to get on this plane." I cooperated. I had been to rehab before, so it couldn't be so bad. Maybe a month or two. Oh, brothers, how wrong I was. I sit here typing this almost two years later. I still haven't seen home. I still haven't laid in my own bed. I still haven't seen any of my friends.
I landed in Salt Lake. Two people from the program drove me to Duchesne, Utah. They explained that this was going to be a wilderness program and I would be living in the mountains. They wouldn't say how long. When we got to Duchesne, they stripped me naked with the exception of a t-shirt. They took all of my belongings. They gave me a green sweater and green wool pants, and an enormous backpack. Then we got back in the car.
They drove for what felt like about two hours. The scenery became increasingly remote as we traveled deeper and deeper into the desert. Then, we stopped abruptly. In the distance I saw the smoke from a fire and a blue tarp. A bearded man approached the truck. They threw me my pack. I walked with him up a hill to the camp.
There were probably four or five kids at the camp. They laid on the ground (chairs were a privilege and had to be earned) scattered around the fire. The first thing I noticed was how incredibly dirty all of them were. Their hair was wildly unkempt. Dirt and soot caked their faces. Beards were stained black from smoke.
I feel like this is becoming long winded. I'll continue in a separate post if you guys want to hear more.
Comments
I got in one little fight and my moms got scared, she said you're moving to your uncles and aunties in bel air!
The rest of the campers were sitting in a circle around the fire. I wanted to join them, but staff had given me a spot under a tree away from them, and said that I wasn't allowed to talk to them. They started a fire for me, and gave me a pad and pen. It got cold quickly, and it was hard to write because my hands shook.
At dusk, the entire group began to walk toward my spot. They looked at me, and said "get your bandana out from your pack. Make a blindfold." I did. They put a stick in my hand and said, follow. They led me up a hill. I almost tripped over the rocks and tree stumps. Finally, we stopped.
"You are now on Earth Phase."
You should type whatever you did and your story up and add it to the articles.
On the days you don't hike, you answer letters from your parents, learn to start fires with a bow drill set, and complete therapy assignments.
I spent 3 months like this. Eventually I started to enjoy it. Life there was pretty simple once you learned the routine. Or, I suppose, once you forget about life at home. You even get used to the therapy. Living in a "therapeutic environment" is incredibly annoying. If you say one thing wrong, it gets reported to your therapist. It becomes a therapeutic issue. The therapy and punishment systems were embarassing. For minor infractions you were put on "reflection". This meant you couldn't talk for a certain period of time. For more serious offenses, you were put on separates. This meant that you were banished from the group.
Apparently there was something called pcs or some shit where they would tie you to a chair and bend your wrists for a while until they felt your punishment time was up for whatever shit you tried to pull.
He told me they dislocated both wrists of some kid one time after he threw a punch at a staff member.
The whole place was based on therapy around working with horses. It sounded pretty lame.
Most of the kids I know who have gone to wilderness are only there 2 months or so. Were you really out there for that long or did you go through other programs/half way houses as well?
Opiate Addiction
I was there for 3 months. I went to a residential treatment program, which I'll get into later, for 9 months. Wilderness was a breeze compared to this place. It was truly draconian. After that, I went to a halfway house for 5 months.
He was probably drinking windex or his parents caught him smoking weed one too many times. But idk.
i hope you got raped by a bear
Who the fuck are you newbie?
someone who mans up to his drug use
honestly, the best rehab is jail. these asshats were probably dancing around in puddles roasting smores the entire time. shit is fuckin soft. a real drug addict wakes up in jail and shanks his celly to get fucked up on that bug juice
you know what i say is true, why you so butthurt that im cuttin up this brokeback mountain retreat. shit is for parents who have money to send they're kid away on some exotic wilderness trip. this guy doesn't get any compassion or interest from me at all, and you shouldn't be giving him any either.
maybe after he's been in the can a couple times for whatever drug related offense, maybe a little. but you act like this is some real deep hardship when its not. he's mommies and daddies little angel who got busted , big fuckin whoop .
your the damn noob impressed by this laughable garbage.
Fuck it if I died, I'd just split to get away from those idiots and to make my parents feel especially guilty.
I wonder what kind of release forms they signed. Having your kid die sounds like grounds for a lawsuit.
I was thinking that, but they probably have their asses covered. I wouldn't want my parents profiting from my death under those circumstances anyway. :mad:
1. Send troublesome teenager away for drug rehab.
2. Have him get killed.
3. File wrongful death lawsuit.
4. Never have to deal with his shit again.
5. ???
6. Profit!