- Did you try to escape from a wilderness program (a thread on the message board of Fighting Institutional Child Abuse Network)
- Did you try to escape from a wilderness program (A thread on the Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora)
torsdag den 10. maj 2012
We are looking for escape stories
We are seeking escape stories from people who have been at wilderness programs. Please tell you how it it went.
Did you succeed?
Did you get caught?
If you was caught, what was then the punishment?
Please comment this blog-entry or use the threads listed below on various messageboards:
tirsdag den 10. april 2012
I was a pretty rebellious teen.... I would ditch school frequently, While I wouldn't call myself addicted I used drugs a little more than casualy (Pot, Cocaine and Alcohol), The real issue was my homelife. My folks and I could not get along, I was the oldest kid by 8 years and naturally my folks tried a variety of different parenting techiques in an effort to see what worked and what didn't... They couldn't get along with each other to save their lives and I couldn't get along with them... Screaming matches would ensue on an almost daily basis at one point.... It was an emotional nightmare for a 16 year old and for my folks I'm sure.
It was around 4 in the morning... I awoke to my dad and 2 men I'd never seen before.. My dad told me I needed to go with them and that they were going to take me some place I could get some help... I was disoriented and kind of not with it, as I was still waking up.. I saw handcuffs on each of their hips and knew I didn't have a chance to make a break for it... I got dressed we walked down the stairs my Mom told me she loved me, I was confused, angry, scared, and felt betrayed and with all of these emotions running through my mind at once I couldn't muster a reply to her. We got in the car, I sat in the back next to the bigger of the two escourts, doors locked, we drove into Chicago (I'm about 40 min out) they offered to stop at McDonalds for me but I was the furthest thing from hungry... We got on a plane to some other airport then flew from that one to Salt Lake City. Once there we got into another car and drove to Vernal UT (Never in my life have I ever seen a stranger town, and I play in a touring band...) They fed me, we went into the office, the doctor gave me a physical, had me give him a urine sample, and without warning jabbed my finger with some needle thing for some sort of reading... They then drove me from the office to Colorado where I was greeted by maintenence staff and taken into the mountains...
Get into the mountains, change out of my clothes, into the MHYR student uniform. (Yellow shirt/sweater, camo pants) Was given my mountain supplies and given a student mentor (you get one on your first week to kind of tell you how the program works)
19 Weeks later I left. You're supposed to pass 12 or 15 weeks to graduate from the program (Many students don't and stay there until the parents run out of money) I passed 15 weeks, I also acheived my GED there..
Yeah I'd say some things stick out... Watching a kid fail every week because he didn't want to eat the food, couldn't physically complete the hikes, and was really just miserable, the other students in the group would constantly get upset with him because he would slow the group down, The week before he left I awoke to him wimpering in his sleeping bag, lips chapped, he had defacated himself, Looking back on it now I realize just how wrong that was....They did call him a faker.....After reading Aarons tragic story.... There was a pretty legitimate similarity between the two.. (But he was pretty damn far from a skeleton) His parents pulled him later that day... I'd like to think the mountain called them and told them of his deteriorating physical state and advised they come get him.... But I doubt it... They told us that more than likely Matt was being transfered to a more punitive program..... My god that is so fucked.... And the students nodded and we were never allowed to speak of him again.... JESUS CHRIST HOW DID I NOT REALIZE HOW BAD THAT WAS AT THE TIME!?
I've never seen paler faces then when a counselor came back into camp with a student who was on Solo.... A Mountain Lion had apparently passed by the students solo camp site... The student was sent right back out on solo that night... Why?... Why the hell does that make any sense at all? An extremely dangerous animal passes by this kids site and you send him back out there to spend 3 days alone....
The impact letters.... Your parents wrote you a letter about how much you've hurt them, all the pain you've caused your family, and why they sent you.... The students then were to read this aloud during group in the evening... Staff would read the letters before group to make sure you didn't leave anything out when you read it. There's recognizing that your actions have had negative effects on people, and taking accountability.... And then theres self degredation and humiliation... I guess it's a matter of opinion but I think MHYR's "Impact letters" were leaning towards the latter...
Come clean letter: Self explanatory... They even had a formula you would plug in to confess how many times you've used profanity in your life.... We read these aloud infront everyone as well... Again... Very humiliating... I believe the emphasis on these letters is also self degredation... You write all of these things down, to the last ludicrous detail and you think "My god I am such a fucking piece of shit", I should be dead,which then turns to "I'm so lucky I came to this program"" Really manipulating shit man.... I think thats what bothers me the most now.... Is all the subtle ways of manipulation
Runaways came in waves.... Typically if you had a bunch of new kids there at once and a problem student or two, you could expect a runaway. Staff DID NOT restrain students who ran, they followed them until they wished to come back, (realized there was nowhere to go)....I actually thought this was prett metaphorical and cool.... But now I can't help but think it was yet another way of manipulation.. A student told me when he ran he somehow got closer to the road and staff then threatened to "restrain" him if he proceeded... I never ran..
I failed 4 weeks... One a staff member handed me my laundry past the fire circle (where you need to have gloves on) I grabbed it and he failed my week...
The other week I failed was during my "2 in one" where you get ONE oppurtunity to do two weeks in one week to make up for failing a week. (Again you only get this oppurtunity once) A female staff, who was on for 2 shifts and we never saw her again after that had told me to speak up when helping another student with her book report, "I've been speaking up I thought you could hear me... Ugh.. Gettin Pissed" She had thought I said "Fucking Bitch" Now guys.... 3 years later... I swear on my sons life I never called her a fucking bitch. My words were "Getting pissed" which was ok to say.. I had absolutely no track record of disrespecting staff or using profanity whatsoever in the 10 weeks I'd been there to that point. I begged and pleaded with her to see I hadn't called her that. To no avail. The head staff sympathized for me and asked my "Therapist" if we could pass one of my weeks for the "two in one" instead of failing both of them (This had been done before for students)..... Now because I still claimed I had not said that, He refused, stating I was refusing to take accountability.
The third one, my parents and I had bickered back and forth a bit on a phone call, no name calling or cussing or anything just not agreeing on the rules for me when I come home, my Mother told me she was going to put my little brother and Sister on the phone to say hi but Now she wasn't going to because of the conversation we had.... I replied with "Oh great cause you know I don't want to talk to my little sister or anything" In obvious sarcasm. My therapist then suddenly got upset and hung up the phone call and told me that I had failed my week because of the phone call.
Now each of these were a little suspicious, but when put together... I honestly believe, because of the amount of money my folks had, and the rate i was progressing through the program, they wanted to keep me longer.... Longer stay = more $ and my folks had more money than alot of the other kids... You can put two and two together... I really hope I don't sound like some bitter child about this.... I'm not. I would absolutely love to believe that when I failed my weeks, it was to help me progress as a person and about personal accountability... But It wasn't.. It was about money.. and the inconsistency in treatment of students proves that to me..
Food was Oats, Germade, Rice, Lentiles, Spam, and ...ashcakes.... I actually puked the first time I tried to eat rice and lentiles, the first month I would go to bed feeling hungry at times..If you moved up to the ranch phase you got to cook on a kerosene stove with eggs, noodles, sauce and some other not "shit" tasting food.. We had to drink a quart of water with each meal and half a quart in between.... When you first got there, every 10 minutes youd have to pee....
Speaking of peeing...
I don't give a damn what anyone says.... There is something disturbing to me and degrading... About having to piss and shit in a hole in the dirt filled with other peoples piss and shit while you call out your number every 5 to 10 seconds.... The mental image of me yelling out "4" while flies swarm around me and I try to block out the stench of everyone elses waste and not fall in...
Thats not therapeutic... It's fucking wrong....
But again.. Thats my opinion, not the legal systems.
Before I go there are a few things I want to clarify.
The escorts were in no why violent, degrading, or cruel. They were nice guys, offered to feed me a bunch, we listened to Howard Stern in the car, cracked jokes, and they wished me well. The traumatic experience of being yanked from your bed, forced to travel across the country, and allowed no contact with anyone you know the whole way.... That was the cruel part...
MHYR did not help me... But I benifited from my stay there.....I survived the most mentally and emotionally grueling experience I've ever been through... I learned to better myself in spite of the actions of others, I learned how to survive in the wilderness, I learned how to motivate emotionally distraught kids, and I learned about one of the most impressive scams I've ever seen.... MHYR didn't help me.... I helped me....They just cashed the check...
Field Staff is a mixed bag... Some genuinely care and want to help, Others are there for a pay check, a few are in between. Please do not make the false assumption that anyone who works at this place is a bad person...
I do not seek any sort of compensation from MHYR or to press charges on them... I can't even begin to handle that whole ordeal... Theres so many "what ifs" and "Yeah but technnicallys" and.... It just feels wrong to me to do that.
This isn't a cry for attention man... I just started dealing with this and really just need to write about it so thank you to anyone who read this, thank you to this site and thread, apologies to anyone I may have offended.
That's all I'm gonna write for now feel free to ask more questions, I'll write more later.. Theres so much more about the maniulative genius that is MHYR I plan to eventually write a book on what I went through and my thoughts on it.
Source:
- Mountain Homes and Beyond..., a thread on the Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora
- Mountain Homes Youth Ranch on Fornits Wiki
onsdag den 28. marts 2012
Wilderness therapy: Shouldn't 2012 be the end of this
Another human rights organization called "Secret Prisons for Teens" wrote the blog-entry below december 2011:
Kurt Hahn developed the early basic for so-called outward bound education before the second world. These ideas were picked up by several schools.
In the 1970's the first wilderness therapy programs began to emerge. However they took only volunteers in and while the survival gear was somewhat primitive compared to the equipment at hand here in 2011, most teenagers who entered these programs made it home.
This all changed when the Reagan and Bush administration in the 1980's declared war on drugs and raise the age of alcohol consumption to 21 in the United States. Such a war demanded strict punishment and when the parents discovered that even minor violations of the law could put their children in jail for decades - in some cases even life, a market for alternative private punishment marketed as therapy was pushed in business based on parental fear for the future of their children.
The first wilderness programs where teenagers were forced into entering the program appeared. Then deaths of such teenagers in the wilderness became headlines in such a number that they eventually were something you could read about on page 34. It was an accepted risk because the alternative was claimed to be a life on drugs and as result deaths or life in prison.
One of the first programs of this new type was named Challenger. It was as almost every modern wilderness programs outdoor adventure combined with boot camp mentality. In closed a few years after it opened because a young girl named Kristin Chase died during the program.
One of our volunteers looked the program up on Facebook and found a group of survivors of the program. While some praise the program despite its harshness there are also those who to this day recent all what did take and basically blame their experience for all the suffering they have experienced in life since. What is true? Is it just something you should get over with or should you speaks up against the lack of fairness?
Life goes on but just as people have to endure scars and injuries from traffic accidents it does meant that you should forget all what was wrong. A girl died in the program and only pure luck prevented others from joining her.
Second those who praise the program forget one thing. It is a basic function in the brain which enables them to select the good things and make them forget the bad elements in the program just as rape victims often are able to hide the ordeal and function relatively normal.
But what about the deaths? Wasn't something learned from Challenger?
No, nothing was learned from her tragic death. In the years since the program closed not a single year has been without deaths in residential treatment programs for children. Several of the deaths in wilderness programs have been exactly copies of her unfortunately death - Deaths which for sure could have been avoided if just the tiniest piece of teaching had been learned from her ordeal.
Wilderness therapy is not safe. It doesn't matter what kind of regulations which are introduced. Records show that there will always be the next set of parents who will receive a coffin instead of a cured child.
Taking teenagers out of their comfort zone should be controversial and the very last resort.
2011 brought awareness of the risk and the suffering among teenagers who are being removed from their homes.
2012 should be the year where the use of wilderness therapy for children who are not willingly entering the program should stop.
That is our simple New Year wish.
Source:
The original blog (Secret Prisons for Teens)
Kurt Hahn developed the early basic for so-called outward bound education before the second world. These ideas were picked up by several schools.
In the 1970's the first wilderness therapy programs began to emerge. However they took only volunteers in and while the survival gear was somewhat primitive compared to the equipment at hand here in 2011, most teenagers who entered these programs made it home.
This all changed when the Reagan and Bush administration in the 1980's declared war on drugs and raise the age of alcohol consumption to 21 in the United States. Such a war demanded strict punishment and when the parents discovered that even minor violations of the law could put their children in jail for decades - in some cases even life, a market for alternative private punishment marketed as therapy was pushed in business based on parental fear for the future of their children.
The first wilderness programs where teenagers were forced into entering the program appeared. Then deaths of such teenagers in the wilderness became headlines in such a number that they eventually were something you could read about on page 34. It was an accepted risk because the alternative was claimed to be a life on drugs and as result deaths or life in prison.
One of the first programs of this new type was named Challenger. It was as almost every modern wilderness programs outdoor adventure combined with boot camp mentality. In closed a few years after it opened because a young girl named Kristin Chase died during the program.
One of our volunteers looked the program up on Facebook and found a group of survivors of the program. While some praise the program despite its harshness there are also those who to this day recent all what did take and basically blame their experience for all the suffering they have experienced in life since. What is true? Is it just something you should get over with or should you speaks up against the lack of fairness?
Life goes on but just as people have to endure scars and injuries from traffic accidents it does meant that you should forget all what was wrong. A girl died in the program and only pure luck prevented others from joining her.
Second those who praise the program forget one thing. It is a basic function in the brain which enables them to select the good things and make them forget the bad elements in the program just as rape victims often are able to hide the ordeal and function relatively normal.
But what about the deaths? Wasn't something learned from Challenger?
No, nothing was learned from her tragic death. In the years since the program closed not a single year has been without deaths in residential treatment programs for children. Several of the deaths in wilderness programs have been exactly copies of her unfortunately death - Deaths which for sure could have been avoided if just the tiniest piece of teaching had been learned from her ordeal.
Wilderness therapy is not safe. It doesn't matter what kind of regulations which are introduced. Records show that there will always be the next set of parents who will receive a coffin instead of a cured child.
Taking teenagers out of their comfort zone should be controversial and the very last resort.
2011 brought awareness of the risk and the suffering among teenagers who are being removed from their homes.
2012 should be the year where the use of wilderness therapy for children who are not willingly entering the program should stop.
That is our simple New Year wish.
Source:
The original blog (Secret Prisons for Teens)
onsdag den 8. februar 2012
setht79's stay at SUWS
The author known as Setht79 gave permission to have his story published on the webpage Reddit. All rights belong to the original author.
It sounds like the program has changed since I was there.
Back in '96, it only lasted for 21 days. I can see why they would want to extend the length of the program though. It costs them very little to run things, but they charge an exorbitant amount of money. Here's a description of my SUWS experience for those of you wondering what it's like.
Upon arriving, you are given everything you will need. All personal belongings are confiscated. Your kit consists of a heavy gauge plastic tarp that measures about 10x10, a military style rain coat, a blanket like they use in moving trucks, sleeping bag, a thin sleeping mat, a bag of oats, a bag of rice and lintels, powdered milk, salt and pepper, iodine tablets, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, 2 pairs of socks, thermal underwear, sweater, camo pants, a spool of thin rope, and a few misc other things.
A convoy of SUVs then drives you out to a remote location in the Great Basin Desert. This is not the Sahara by any means. It is simply an arid climate, with an abundance of sage brush. No sand dunes, lots of plateaus. Upon arriving at your destination, there is a brief orientation where they explain how to pack your kit (tarp laid flat, rain coat on top of that, blanket on top of that, everything else in the middle, fold the tarp/coat/blanket around your gear, tie with rope).
During the initial phase we were not given a backpack frame, so the rope was our shoulder straps (Kinda uncomfortable). Our group consisted of 4 guys, 2 girls, and 3 councilors (2 females, 1 male). Once everyone had put together their pack, we set out. The first week is all about learning the basics of survival. This was by far the worst part. No one was used to the hardships of being outdoors. That, combined with all of the hiking, led to a LOT of bitching and moaning (myself included).
The second week was "family week", which is all about teamwork. We were given 2 knives and a backpack frame to tie our gear to. The first knife was stainless steel for carving wood. The second was a carbon steel (I think) Swiss army style knife that would create sparks when struck with the right kind of rocks (for starting fires). During this week we learned some more advanced survival techniques.
The first half of the third week was called "solo". You spent 3 days in a small shelter by yourself, and were visited once a day by a councilor. The last 4 days were "search and rescue". During this phase we tracked 2 groups of people who just started the program and paid them surprise visits to "lift their spirits". Basically we would just let them know that it gets easier (it does). In the end, you make a long hike out and meet up with your family at base camp. You are all bused to a hotel, shower up, and meet at a diner for the best meal of your life up to that point. It's just a diner, but after 3 weeks of rice and lintels, a plate of pancakes is pretty amazing.
What I did not mention in the description is that there are some serious mental games being played by the staff throughout the whole thing. They are trying to convince you that you have major issues, (even if you don't), and that your parents are in no way at fault. They are also trying to prep you for the next facility you will be sent to, as they strongly advise parents to send their children to a more long term facility straight from SUWS. One of the things I learned from these experiences, is that some parents just want to be free of their kids during the difficult teenage years. Several of the kids at SUWS and my follow up facility had no substance abuse or major behavioral problems.
Ultimately, I'm glad I learned the survival techniques I did at SUWS, but I don't think shipping your child off is a good thing.
Source:
The original statement on the Reddit webpage
It sounds like the program has changed since I was there.
Back in '96, it only lasted for 21 days. I can see why they would want to extend the length of the program though. It costs them very little to run things, but they charge an exorbitant amount of money. Here's a description of my SUWS experience for those of you wondering what it's like.
Upon arriving, you are given everything you will need. All personal belongings are confiscated. Your kit consists of a heavy gauge plastic tarp that measures about 10x10, a military style rain coat, a blanket like they use in moving trucks, sleeping bag, a thin sleeping mat, a bag of oats, a bag of rice and lintels, powdered milk, salt and pepper, iodine tablets, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, 2 pairs of socks, thermal underwear, sweater, camo pants, a spool of thin rope, and a few misc other things.
A convoy of SUVs then drives you out to a remote location in the Great Basin Desert. This is not the Sahara by any means. It is simply an arid climate, with an abundance of sage brush. No sand dunes, lots of plateaus. Upon arriving at your destination, there is a brief orientation where they explain how to pack your kit (tarp laid flat, rain coat on top of that, blanket on top of that, everything else in the middle, fold the tarp/coat/blanket around your gear, tie with rope).
During the initial phase we were not given a backpack frame, so the rope was our shoulder straps (Kinda uncomfortable). Our group consisted of 4 guys, 2 girls, and 3 councilors (2 females, 1 male). Once everyone had put together their pack, we set out. The first week is all about learning the basics of survival. This was by far the worst part. No one was used to the hardships of being outdoors. That, combined with all of the hiking, led to a LOT of bitching and moaning (myself included).
The second week was "family week", which is all about teamwork. We were given 2 knives and a backpack frame to tie our gear to. The first knife was stainless steel for carving wood. The second was a carbon steel (I think) Swiss army style knife that would create sparks when struck with the right kind of rocks (for starting fires). During this week we learned some more advanced survival techniques.
The first half of the third week was called "solo". You spent 3 days in a small shelter by yourself, and were visited once a day by a councilor. The last 4 days were "search and rescue". During this phase we tracked 2 groups of people who just started the program and paid them surprise visits to "lift their spirits". Basically we would just let them know that it gets easier (it does). In the end, you make a long hike out and meet up with your family at base camp. You are all bused to a hotel, shower up, and meet at a diner for the best meal of your life up to that point. It's just a diner, but after 3 weeks of rice and lintels, a plate of pancakes is pretty amazing.
What I did not mention in the description is that there are some serious mental games being played by the staff throughout the whole thing. They are trying to convince you that you have major issues, (even if you don't), and that your parents are in no way at fault. They are also trying to prep you for the next facility you will be sent to, as they strongly advise parents to send their children to a more long term facility straight from SUWS. One of the things I learned from these experiences, is that some parents just want to be free of their kids during the difficult teenage years. Several of the kids at SUWS and my follow up facility had no substance abuse or major behavioral problems.
Ultimately, I'm glad I learned the survival techniques I did at SUWS, but I don't think shipping your child off is a good thing.
Source:
The original statement on the Reddit webpage
torsdag den 5. januar 2012
The days I was kidnapped.
This testimony was given by Alex K. on a message board. All rights belongs to the author.
Hello. I have been an intermittent listener for about two years now. I believeI have had an experience that would be of some interest to Mr. Molyneaux.
On the night of May 27th, 2005, I had a few weeks ago turned 15 years old. I was, I admit, spending too much time playing video games; yet I did not drink, did not use any drugs, and was not harming myself physically.
It was an average night at my home, except this night my parents were unusually suggestive that I should get to sleep at an early hour. After all, as I was told, there were electricians coming the next morning to work on the house and I might be woken up early. Although my parents are intelligent people, in hindsight some of the telltale signs of deception, most notably repetition of a seemingly unimportant point which is important to the deception itself, were visable.
The next morning I was woken up when two strangers walked into my room. They were older, in their early 50s probobly. One was both overweight and muscular while the other was short and lean. I would joke to kids I met on my journey that this was so one could chase me and the other could restrain me, as I've never looked anemic and have always been stronger than most.
I gave the pair a tired hello, rolling over in my bed, angry that these electricians had barged into my room when I was so tired still. The larger man went over to where my shoes were and began to unlace them. The smaller man told me to get up and brush my teeth. He told me we were going. I asked where we were going. I was told I would find out when I arrived.
Although at this point, as clear as the consequences of all our actions are with reflection, I should have known something was amiss, I had remembered my mother telling me I should go to a summer camp in order to get out more, in order to enjoy life more. I thought I was being taken to a camp by friends of my parents friends, or someone else close to the family who I did not know. I followed their directions. When I put my pants on after I had finished brushing my teeth, the larger man grabbed onto the empty belt buckle of my jeans and began to guide me out of the house. I clumsily shuffled down the stairs with my shoe lace-less sneakers to the back door, which, in our house, is near a pushdoor to the kitchen. I wanted to say goodbye to my two dogs, as I thought I would not see them until the end of the summer. When I began to move to push open the door to the kitchen, where my dogs usually are, begging for food and relaxing on the cold tile, I was yanked back into place and led out the back door. I was led out the garage to a minivan I did not recognize. I was forcefully 'assisted' into the back of the minivan and the door was slammed shut.
At this point the two men, who's names I did not know and to this day I do not know, told me I was going to O'Hare Itl. Airport. I asked where we were flying to and I was told North Carolina. I began to panick a bit at this point. I realized I had no control in what was occuring. I felt flustered by the use of force barring me from bidding my dogs and my parents farewell for the summer. Although this is tough to admit to because I love to view myself as a rugged individualist unwilling to allow others to defeat me on a personal intellectual or emotional level, at this point I began to cry. My crying was not out of complaint or pain, but rather it stemmed from the fear of my circumstances. I was locked in a minivan with strangers who had led me there by force, and now I was on my way to an international airport.
As we drove, the trip to O'Hare being about 45 min from my house, the two men talked about the night they had spent in Chicago before. They laughed about the time they'd had at Uno's, a famous Chicago Pizzaria I was familair with, and they showered praise on the city's night life.
When we arrived at the airport I shuffled along with the two men, not willing to subject myself to the force I had experienced earlier when trying to stray from the preordained course. I had a backpack with me that my parents had packed and the two men had given to me. In it was my favorite book, "All Quiet on the Western Front" by Erich Maria Remarque. (Off topic I STRONGLY recommend this book. My initial juvinile misreading of the book led to my pro war patriotism, and my rereadings of the book led to my anti-war pacifism) I began to read while we waited for the flight from Chicago O'Hare to Ashville Airport in North Carolina. We boarded the flight and the plane took off. I was seated in the middle seat of a three seat row, in between the two strangers.
About half way through the flight I was handed a folded sheet of printer paper. It turned out to be a letter, in the style of speech I had learned to associate with my father. The letter told me about how sorry my mother and father were to have had to resort to handing me over to strangers to take me to North Carolina, but it was clear that my lifestyle required some intervention. I immediatly thought of the discussion of summer camps I'd had with my mother. I felt calmed. "I'm going to summer camp." I told myself, "It wont be that bad. At worst it will be boring." As I began to realize that the hand had been taken off of the chess piece, that the plan was in play, I began to calm myself, forcing myself to come to terms with what I thought would merely be the loss of my summer.
If you have come this far without clicking away I applaud you. Up to now most of this has been just description of the initial trauma of an experience that would last for a long time to come.
When the plane landed at the Ashille airport, the two strangers handed me over to a man with an Aussie accent. I was told to get in his car. I did so and we drove off. I asked the man how long I would be where he was taking me, still assuming this was summer camp, and he told me the minimum stay was twenty eight days. I was determined from that point on to be home within the month of June.
When we arrived at camp I saw what could be expected of most summer camps, some log cabin domiciles and kids in the same clothes on an open field sitting around what appeared to me to be a counselor. So far so good.
I remember with a horrific distinctness the moment I realized I was not at summer camp. This was when, in a room in one of the cabins, the man with the Australian accent told me to take off all of my clothes. Not having a say in the matter, I stared blankly at him and did as I was told. He told me to turn around, grab my ankles an cough. I did this too. I was then issued a pair of hiking boots, a pair of pants and two shirts. I was taken to one of the cabins and told which bed I would be sleeping in.
After talking to the other kids in my 'group,' known as "Group G," I was told I was at wilderness. What I learned was that I was in a rehabilitation center for unruly children. The issues these kids had ran the spectrum from those who were slacking in school to hard drug addicts. All of the kids were under eighteen, the age at which they could legally refuse to be taken somewhere against their will. I asked the kids how long we would be forced to stay here. I heard that there was a minimum of twenty eight days, and the maximum time was not defined. Immediatly I began to think my parents made a huge mistake. I did not belong here. This was not a place for me. If I could just get another chance to get the grades my parents wanted me to get, I could reform myself! Anything but this!
I asked the staff member if I could contact my parents. I was told I could write letters but make no phone calls. All my personal belongings that I had travelled with had been confiscated so I asked for pen and paper. I immediatly began writing up a plea to my parents. I concocted a letter begging to be given one more chance live up to my parents expectations, and gave this letter to the staff member responsible for looking after me so he could send it off.
As I learned more, I was told by other kids that most of the children in this camp were sent away to other locations for periods from one year to two years. I was told this was almost always the case, yet I had no fear of this happening to me. "MY parents would never do this." I thought.
A week into my experience at this camp, I was given a few feet of seatbelt material, a sleeping bag, a tarp and a metal cup. I was taught how to roll all my belongings together and tie them to my back with this seatbelt material. A few days after that, my group, group G, set off into the Pisgah National Forest.
It would take a book to document my experiences in those two months alone, but the jist of it was I cooked my own meals, over my own fire which I made with sticks. I pitched a tent with the tarp I used to hike my belongings around, miles a day, and I was not allowed association with others in my group. I was a boy alone in the mountains of North Carolina. Two weeks passed and I got a letter confirming what I thought not possible. This was not the end. I would be going to a "theraputic boarding school" after my stay at wilderness. I was crushed. Two months passed. I was reunited with my parents then swiftly passed off to a "school" in Utah. I spent 6 months there. Fortunately, I was able to convince my parents to remove me from that location, a "school" with window alarms, locked doors, guards posted outside at night and forced work at recycling centers and on road cleanup crews when I agreed to attend a Catholic school although from as long as I can rememeber I have been an atheist.
After the end of the school year at Catholic school, I told my parents I refused to reattend a cathlolic school the next year. Within a week of this announcement I was woken up early by the exact two strangers my story begins with. The horror and addrenaline that rushed through me is inexplicable. I hopped up out of the bedroom where my experience began and tried to flee. I was knocked down at the door by the larger man, he hopped on my back, pushed my face into the carpet and contorted my wrist as to disallow me to move in any way without an increase in the pain I already felt. I was told I could either go back to my "school" in Utah "willingly" or go to a worse place, horror stories of which I had heard from children at the location I was sent to for 6 months in Utah. The large man, no longer a stranger, then showed me a pair of handcuffs and pepper spray. I decided to return to, as we called it, Jail for Kids, willingly.
I spent the next year there. I was allowed to see my family for a total of around 15 days in that period. I witnessed kids try to run. I witnessed those kids fail. I witnessed a "therapist" use the DEATH of a woman in a car accident one of the kids was involved in (sober and not caused by him) AGAINST that child (16 years) in order to extract information the "therapist" thought he knew about where some kids had ran away to.
I witnessed a kid dragged away by thugs to a worse location for the crime of smuggling in caffeine pills, and I saw a kid barred from any social interaction with others for holding hands with a female attendee of the institution.
Please read up on what is going on infront of our eyes, but beyond our scope of vision.
A good website I have found that sums a lot of these places up well: http://www.caica.org/
A list of child murders in these institutions: http://www.caica.org/NEWS%20Deaths%20Main.htm
I saw a kid be forced away to, what I heard from rumor was all of our worst fear... what kept us 'in line.' : http://www.alternet.org/story/31000/ (Tranquility Bay)
I wrote this kind of hastily, realized I was going on too long and summed it all up fairly rapidly, but hopefully I had given some good FDR anti-agression individuals a window into what occurs and what has occured to me.
Thank you,
Alex K.
Source:
The original thread on the Free Domain Radio Message board
Hello. I have been an intermittent listener for about two years now. I believeI have had an experience that would be of some interest to Mr. Molyneaux.
On the night of May 27th, 2005, I had a few weeks ago turned 15 years old. I was, I admit, spending too much time playing video games; yet I did not drink, did not use any drugs, and was not harming myself physically.
It was an average night at my home, except this night my parents were unusually suggestive that I should get to sleep at an early hour. After all, as I was told, there were electricians coming the next morning to work on the house and I might be woken up early. Although my parents are intelligent people, in hindsight some of the telltale signs of deception, most notably repetition of a seemingly unimportant point which is important to the deception itself, were visable.
The next morning I was woken up when two strangers walked into my room. They were older, in their early 50s probobly. One was both overweight and muscular while the other was short and lean. I would joke to kids I met on my journey that this was so one could chase me and the other could restrain me, as I've never looked anemic and have always been stronger than most.
I gave the pair a tired hello, rolling over in my bed, angry that these electricians had barged into my room when I was so tired still. The larger man went over to where my shoes were and began to unlace them. The smaller man told me to get up and brush my teeth. He told me we were going. I asked where we were going. I was told I would find out when I arrived.
Although at this point, as clear as the consequences of all our actions are with reflection, I should have known something was amiss, I had remembered my mother telling me I should go to a summer camp in order to get out more, in order to enjoy life more. I thought I was being taken to a camp by friends of my parents friends, or someone else close to the family who I did not know. I followed their directions. When I put my pants on after I had finished brushing my teeth, the larger man grabbed onto the empty belt buckle of my jeans and began to guide me out of the house. I clumsily shuffled down the stairs with my shoe lace-less sneakers to the back door, which, in our house, is near a pushdoor to the kitchen. I wanted to say goodbye to my two dogs, as I thought I would not see them until the end of the summer. When I began to move to push open the door to the kitchen, where my dogs usually are, begging for food and relaxing on the cold tile, I was yanked back into place and led out the back door. I was led out the garage to a minivan I did not recognize. I was forcefully 'assisted' into the back of the minivan and the door was slammed shut.
At this point the two men, who's names I did not know and to this day I do not know, told me I was going to O'Hare Itl. Airport. I asked where we were flying to and I was told North Carolina. I began to panick a bit at this point. I realized I had no control in what was occuring. I felt flustered by the use of force barring me from bidding my dogs and my parents farewell for the summer. Although this is tough to admit to because I love to view myself as a rugged individualist unwilling to allow others to defeat me on a personal intellectual or emotional level, at this point I began to cry. My crying was not out of complaint or pain, but rather it stemmed from the fear of my circumstances. I was locked in a minivan with strangers who had led me there by force, and now I was on my way to an international airport.
As we drove, the trip to O'Hare being about 45 min from my house, the two men talked about the night they had spent in Chicago before. They laughed about the time they'd had at Uno's, a famous Chicago Pizzaria I was familair with, and they showered praise on the city's night life.
When we arrived at the airport I shuffled along with the two men, not willing to subject myself to the force I had experienced earlier when trying to stray from the preordained course. I had a backpack with me that my parents had packed and the two men had given to me. In it was my favorite book, "All Quiet on the Western Front" by Erich Maria Remarque. (Off topic I STRONGLY recommend this book. My initial juvinile misreading of the book led to my pro war patriotism, and my rereadings of the book led to my anti-war pacifism) I began to read while we waited for the flight from Chicago O'Hare to Ashville Airport in North Carolina. We boarded the flight and the plane took off. I was seated in the middle seat of a three seat row, in between the two strangers.
About half way through the flight I was handed a folded sheet of printer paper. It turned out to be a letter, in the style of speech I had learned to associate with my father. The letter told me about how sorry my mother and father were to have had to resort to handing me over to strangers to take me to North Carolina, but it was clear that my lifestyle required some intervention. I immediatly thought of the discussion of summer camps I'd had with my mother. I felt calmed. "I'm going to summer camp." I told myself, "It wont be that bad. At worst it will be boring." As I began to realize that the hand had been taken off of the chess piece, that the plan was in play, I began to calm myself, forcing myself to come to terms with what I thought would merely be the loss of my summer.
If you have come this far without clicking away I applaud you. Up to now most of this has been just description of the initial trauma of an experience that would last for a long time to come.
When the plane landed at the Ashille airport, the two strangers handed me over to a man with an Aussie accent. I was told to get in his car. I did so and we drove off. I asked the man how long I would be where he was taking me, still assuming this was summer camp, and he told me the minimum stay was twenty eight days. I was determined from that point on to be home within the month of June.
When we arrived at camp I saw what could be expected of most summer camps, some log cabin domiciles and kids in the same clothes on an open field sitting around what appeared to me to be a counselor. So far so good.
I remember with a horrific distinctness the moment I realized I was not at summer camp. This was when, in a room in one of the cabins, the man with the Australian accent told me to take off all of my clothes. Not having a say in the matter, I stared blankly at him and did as I was told. He told me to turn around, grab my ankles an cough. I did this too. I was then issued a pair of hiking boots, a pair of pants and two shirts. I was taken to one of the cabins and told which bed I would be sleeping in.
After talking to the other kids in my 'group,' known as "Group G," I was told I was at wilderness. What I learned was that I was in a rehabilitation center for unruly children. The issues these kids had ran the spectrum from those who were slacking in school to hard drug addicts. All of the kids were under eighteen, the age at which they could legally refuse to be taken somewhere against their will. I asked the kids how long we would be forced to stay here. I heard that there was a minimum of twenty eight days, and the maximum time was not defined. Immediatly I began to think my parents made a huge mistake. I did not belong here. This was not a place for me. If I could just get another chance to get the grades my parents wanted me to get, I could reform myself! Anything but this!
I asked the staff member if I could contact my parents. I was told I could write letters but make no phone calls. All my personal belongings that I had travelled with had been confiscated so I asked for pen and paper. I immediatly began writing up a plea to my parents. I concocted a letter begging to be given one more chance live up to my parents expectations, and gave this letter to the staff member responsible for looking after me so he could send it off.
As I learned more, I was told by other kids that most of the children in this camp were sent away to other locations for periods from one year to two years. I was told this was almost always the case, yet I had no fear of this happening to me. "MY parents would never do this." I thought.
A week into my experience at this camp, I was given a few feet of seatbelt material, a sleeping bag, a tarp and a metal cup. I was taught how to roll all my belongings together and tie them to my back with this seatbelt material. A few days after that, my group, group G, set off into the Pisgah National Forest.
It would take a book to document my experiences in those two months alone, but the jist of it was I cooked my own meals, over my own fire which I made with sticks. I pitched a tent with the tarp I used to hike my belongings around, miles a day, and I was not allowed association with others in my group. I was a boy alone in the mountains of North Carolina. Two weeks passed and I got a letter confirming what I thought not possible. This was not the end. I would be going to a "theraputic boarding school" after my stay at wilderness. I was crushed. Two months passed. I was reunited with my parents then swiftly passed off to a "school" in Utah. I spent 6 months there. Fortunately, I was able to convince my parents to remove me from that location, a "school" with window alarms, locked doors, guards posted outside at night and forced work at recycling centers and on road cleanup crews when I agreed to attend a Catholic school although from as long as I can rememeber I have been an atheist.
After the end of the school year at Catholic school, I told my parents I refused to reattend a cathlolic school the next year. Within a week of this announcement I was woken up early by the exact two strangers my story begins with. The horror and addrenaline that rushed through me is inexplicable. I hopped up out of the bedroom where my experience began and tried to flee. I was knocked down at the door by the larger man, he hopped on my back, pushed my face into the carpet and contorted my wrist as to disallow me to move in any way without an increase in the pain I already felt. I was told I could either go back to my "school" in Utah "willingly" or go to a worse place, horror stories of which I had heard from children at the location I was sent to for 6 months in Utah. The large man, no longer a stranger, then showed me a pair of handcuffs and pepper spray. I decided to return to, as we called it, Jail for Kids, willingly.
I spent the next year there. I was allowed to see my family for a total of around 15 days in that period. I witnessed kids try to run. I witnessed those kids fail. I witnessed a "therapist" use the DEATH of a woman in a car accident one of the kids was involved in (sober and not caused by him) AGAINST that child (16 years) in order to extract information the "therapist" thought he knew about where some kids had ran away to.
I witnessed a kid dragged away by thugs to a worse location for the crime of smuggling in caffeine pills, and I saw a kid barred from any social interaction with others for holding hands with a female attendee of the institution.
Please read up on what is going on infront of our eyes, but beyond our scope of vision.
A good website I have found that sums a lot of these places up well: http://www.caica.org/
A list of child murders in these institutions: http://www.caica.org/NEWS%20Deaths%20Main.htm
I saw a kid be forced away to, what I heard from rumor was all of our worst fear... what kept us 'in line.' : http://www.alternet.org/story/31000/ (Tranquility Bay)
I wrote this kind of hastily, realized I was going on too long and summed it all up fairly rapidly, but hopefully I had given some good FDR anti-agression individuals a window into what occurs and what has occured to me.
Thank you,
Alex K.
Source:
The original thread on the Free Domain Radio Message board
lørdag den 10. december 2011
Whiteboy Deluxe at Ashley Valley Wilderness
As I explained before, I was sent to Ashley Valley Wilderness in Colorado/Utah for about 3 months, 89 days in which I had no electricity (or ANY utilities like water gas or even housing), freedom of speech, medical treatment, drug rehabilitation, therapy, or even a PILLOW. We were up in the mountains, making fires with bow-drill sets, and eating rice, lentils, oatmeal, germade, and spam with no vitamins, freedom to choose if we could eat or not, or the ability to even share our experiences involving substances (at a "rehab"?).
Furthermore, I was NOT allowed to speak about
- politics [i.e. "I think Obama..." "HEY! You can't talk about politics or you FAIL and you're here another week!" (AV Staff)],
- religion (i.e. "Oh my God!/Oh my Lord!" Staff: "HEY! That's Diety! FAIL FAIL FAIL!")
- "war stories" (i.e.) "My parents had just got divorced and I did a lot of ____ one night, I neglected my family-"NO WAR STORIES! Try it again you FAIL!
- anything "wierd" (i.e. ghosts, ufos, samsquatch haha, pokemon, aliens, etc.
- as WELL as the inability to swear at all, even with "damn" or threaten failing and staying on the mountain another week.
I met name replaced (Owner) and name replaced (Program Director) and both live luxurious lives of fly-fishing, driving over-sized vehicles, lying to thousands of suffering parents of addicted teens/adults, and ROBBING THOUSANDS OF KIDS AGES 12-26 of 3-7 MONTHS OF THEIR LIFE.
I will never get my 89 days of life back. Those bastards broke me down, made fun of my musical preference, my tattoos, my name, and I wasn't even allowed to stand up for myself, or I'd risk staying on a SHIThole mountain for another week. I could NOT leave because I was over 60 miles from any gas station, with no electronics, no money, and no ID (all confiscated at the airport by AV staff).
I need to warn parents and children of this place. I am absolutely forever traumatized by my experiences from this place. Hives, headaches, sleep troubles, frost-bite, diarrhea, vomiting, rashes, anxiety attacks, depression, suicidal thoughts, violent tendencies, and a pessimistic decision-making attitude are all attributed to the fact that I was robbed of my freedoms by these scammers, my family bought into it, and I lived through 3 months of what is worse than Jail- yes, Jail is NICER than AV/MHYR. I know this through tesimonials by my fellow "pupils" and from MY OWN EXPERIENCE.
Name replaced - keep buying a new fully loaded Chevy each year, and puttin down-payments on extra fishing lodges, but I see through you're bullshit you spit to these suffering families.You fuckin bastad ;P
Another Name replaced, by the way Ladies and Gentleman, is a very obese, Okley and expensive cowboy boot/hat-wearin mothafucka who's addicted to money, FOOD, big trucks, and probably pornograph. Fake-ass lying crook.
Anyway, I'm off that mountain, but I pray from my apartment in Portland, every single day for my colleagues who get sent up there to live through such a blasphemy.
I PRAY that this saves at least ONE person from one of the most F'd up experiences a person can endure (the "Therapists" talk to your parents and you have VERY little contact (write monitored letters that take weeks to get delivered to ONLY the parent who paid or bi-weekly MONITORED phone calls with the therapists. Their Bastards
Sources:
- The original blog on blogspot.com
- Mountain Homes and Beyond... Topix on the Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora
mandag den 14. november 2011
Alex at Ashley Valley Wilderness
I attended Ashley Valley Wilderness and feel totally betrayed. If you are looking to send your adult child to this program you should consider some of the following before you do so because my family and I felt very deceived after my stay there.
They claim to be a wilderness program but there isn't much wilderness to it other than the fact that you sleep in a tent and make your food at a fire. They claim to take your child on hikes and do all sorts of outdoor activities and they even show you some videos on their website this is all false(towards the end of your stay the owner Marty takes you out fishing but this only happens once in your entire stay).
During my stay at Ashley Valley we would go on an hour long hike once a week every other hour is spent on what they refer to as "blackout" (no one can talk to each other) during blackout you are expected to complete a packet and if you dont finish this packet you fail your week and have to stay another. These packets are the only form of help they offer your child while they are there.
They also only let you speak to your kid once every other week for an hour with a therapist there they do this so your child can't truly explain what is going on at the program. The packets offer little to no help in terms of recovery they are simple fill in the blanks and define the term packets that look like they were photocopied from some random textbook. When a packet is not finished by the end of the week you are expected to stay an extra week and do the same packet again and also write a 3 page paper on why you couldn't complete the packet none of this therapeutic in any way. Also when you stay another week you are expected to fork out thousands of more dollars to the program.
Which reminds me about the money side of this program the staff and the directors are paid the same amount of money I gained this information from and employee that quit because he felt that the program was a scam this pay is modest compared to what Marty Bingham and Rob Caldwell get they both have very nice trucks and wear fancy cloths and Marty owns a very very large house outside of Vernal which he offers to RENT to you when you come and visit your child (as if 40,000 wasn't enough) it is obvious where your 40,000 dollars go when your at the program they go so far as to not explain the money aspect of this to students in fear that you will write home and shine light on what your family has been conned into.
Most all of the staff are not certified counselors and really have no knowledge of addiction, in fact your addiction is not allowed to be talked about while you are there if you do they fail your week and make you stay another. pretty much everything you do at this program can fail your week they do this on purpose because they want to make more money.
Please i wouldn't make this blog if i didn't want to truly warn people about the conning this program will do to you they make you pay up front because of this. There are many other wilderness programs out there such as outward bound and blackwater those programs are very good and you child will do nothing but hike and spend time outdoors and learn how to live in the woods while also engaging in beneficial dialogue with staff. If you are considering sending your child to this program please email me and ask me your questions don't be sold this by one of the crafty salespeople at this program.
I have been to this program and my family and I will be happy to explain to you in further detail why this is a terrible program. This program has much potential and isn't as bad as other programs but for the money you pay to send your child there it is not worth it. TRUST ME there are plenty of other programs. they really exploit the whole doctor phil thing too.
I WANT TO GIVE YOU A NON BIASED opinion about this program any former students or parents they put you in contact with are totally biased and say exactly what the program wants them to say they totally lied to my family and me. I went into this program thinking i would be hiking every day and learning about nature and then engage in group therapy where we could openly talk about our issues nothing could be further from the truth and the therapists they put you in contact with are not PHD psychologists which they could easily afford and are very closed minded people who try to tell you to submit to people and let others control you if you ask me this is just teaching your child to be even more co-dependent.
I want to help you and could even point you in the direction of many other better wilderness programs for adults that aren't nearly as expensive.
Sources:
- The original blog on blogspot.com
- Mountain Homes and Beyond... Topix on the Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora
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