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
torsdag den 5. januar 2012
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
torsdag den 8. september 2011
Reflections and outlook learned during a therapy stay (From:Myspace)
Most participants in wilderness programs dislike the stay in a wilderness program while they are in it, but years later when they are adults, life experience may produce a more sophisticated outlook on life. On of the former participants in the wilderness program Sagewalk wrote a blog-entry back in 2006 where he states some of his viewpoint on the society and life as an young adult. All rights belong to the author.
I don't know what all the sudden made me wanna start typing all this shit down but I guess its because of all the BULLSHIT that's going on with me right now .It has to do mostly about being the person you wanna be. For people like me It's almost impossible. When I say people like me I mean people who really just don't give a fuck. People who like to smoke, drink, pop, snort, whatever way intrigue them. It's much more clear inside my head .the only way I can think of explaining it is this. Think about when people say that they hate fakes now bare with me cause It's going to get a bit confusing. Say I want to smoke and drink the things I really love to do everything else is just an occasional thing or something ive done and am over with. This is what happened to me a while ago which started all the BULSHIT that's going on right now.
I got way to drunk in Pittsburgh and for some reason ended up passed out on the sidewalk a few blocks down from a party I was at was. Now by this point I had already blacked out and don't remember shit that happened the rest of the night. So what your about to read is all stuff that was told to me by my friends or parents. Two cops who I guess were on their way to break up the party I was at see me passed out on the sidewalk and come wake me up to see what's going on. As soon as they wake me up I'm yelling and swearing pushing them off me and just a bunch of BULLSHIT. So they arrest me for being drunk in public and take to the station where I wait to get picked up by my parents.
As soon as I get home with my parents I start to try and get out of every door window anything I could just because I didn't want to be home. I ended up wrestling with my dad for about 25 minutes until I finally get out of the house now while I was fighting with my dad my mom had called the cops and they just so happened to show up just as I get out so I start jetting down my street until my shoe fell of which slowed me down enough for them to catch up and tackle me to the ground. I need up getting arrested for being drunk in public and resisting arrest. This all happened sometime early July.
Now months and months later I'm on probation for 6 months. But on top of that for the past 9 months my parents have been on my nuts about drinking and smoking as well. When I found out I might be getting put on probation I saw kind of a bright side. I figured shit maybe my parents will lay the fuck off and let probation take car of me. But I was way wrong now my parents are even more uptight because they don't want to se me go to juvi which is a bullshit excuse to keep on bugging me about fallowing rules and shit. Because just the other night I went out without telling my parents. When I came back they were pissed and started saying shit like I violated my probation. I responded saying "no I didn't because they don't know about it and there not gonna find out either". So later that night I was chillin in my garage watchin t.v. And laying on the couch and my mom comes in and says " next time you do that I'm calling the cops myself and you'll be gone" which makes the whole "we don't wanna see you get sent away again" line a bunch of BULLSHIT.
Oh and she said "again" because a long while ago my parents sent me to a wilderness program called sagewalk for 67 days. So I know they don't have a problem with sending me away.
Now back to the whole being who you wanna be thing. Sorry theirs just so much going through my mind right now its hard to concentrate and stay focused but all this stuff ties into what I'm trying to say somehow. I don't think its possible to be who you really wanna be because of all the laws I mean think about it if you do something someone doesn't approve of you get punished for it. And the punishment just gets harsher and harsher each time. With all the laws that there are its ridiculous they're trying to make everyone fallow the some way of living. Your born you grow up going to school with you parents pushing you to get good grades and graduate. Then you get a job that you get stuck doing forever unless you catch a break and get rich quick. Then after you get a job you get married and get a house and have kids whom you raise and teach to live the same BULLSHIT way you lived because that's the way America thinks is the best way to live life. I know that not everyone lives this way that would be impossible. But its what they want you to do and how they want you to live don't ask me why. Cause Ill just keep it simple and tell you because they a bunch of dickfuckin bitches. I hate all of that BULLSHIT I just wanna live young and say fuck you to everyone and everything trying to stop me. Now this isn't logical but shit why not do your best to try. I know tons of parents/adults who bitch and whine all day about going to work and paying bills and blah blah blah all saying have fun while you're a kid don't grow up with a lil chuckle at the end. Then you go out get drunk and smoke some pot and their lecturing you about school and getting a job and being more mature. Fuckin wake up you air headed fagots I'm jus trying to have some fun incase as I get older I get sucked into the same mess your in walking around with stick up your ass never getting laid and being bossed around by other dickfucks who got trapped in the life that is suppose to be fallowed by everybody. So really you cant be who you wanna be…. I cant be who I wanna be. Just a kid who wants to – GET DRUNK, GET HIGH, AND GET LAID-. So everyone who feels the same way just keep having fun and doing what you're doing but be smart about it. Because now I'm stuck on probation for 6 months fallowing rules like a bitch. Well I could go on for days but I'm gonna stop with this last lil thing
Source:
The original blog-testimony on Myspace
I don't know what all the sudden made me wanna start typing all this shit down but I guess its because of all the BULLSHIT that's going on with me right now .It has to do mostly about being the person you wanna be. For people like me It's almost impossible. When I say people like me I mean people who really just don't give a fuck. People who like to smoke, drink, pop, snort, whatever way intrigue them. It's much more clear inside my head .the only way I can think of explaining it is this. Think about when people say that they hate fakes now bare with me cause It's going to get a bit confusing. Say I want to smoke and drink the things I really love to do everything else is just an occasional thing or something ive done and am over with. This is what happened to me a while ago which started all the BULSHIT that's going on right now.
I got way to drunk in Pittsburgh and for some reason ended up passed out on the sidewalk a few blocks down from a party I was at was. Now by this point I had already blacked out and don't remember shit that happened the rest of the night. So what your about to read is all stuff that was told to me by my friends or parents. Two cops who I guess were on their way to break up the party I was at see me passed out on the sidewalk and come wake me up to see what's going on. As soon as they wake me up I'm yelling and swearing pushing them off me and just a bunch of BULLSHIT. So they arrest me for being drunk in public and take to the station where I wait to get picked up by my parents.
As soon as I get home with my parents I start to try and get out of every door window anything I could just because I didn't want to be home. I ended up wrestling with my dad for about 25 minutes until I finally get out of the house now while I was fighting with my dad my mom had called the cops and they just so happened to show up just as I get out so I start jetting down my street until my shoe fell of which slowed me down enough for them to catch up and tackle me to the ground. I need up getting arrested for being drunk in public and resisting arrest. This all happened sometime early July.
Now months and months later I'm on probation for 6 months. But on top of that for the past 9 months my parents have been on my nuts about drinking and smoking as well. When I found out I might be getting put on probation I saw kind of a bright side. I figured shit maybe my parents will lay the fuck off and let probation take car of me. But I was way wrong now my parents are even more uptight because they don't want to se me go to juvi which is a bullshit excuse to keep on bugging me about fallowing rules and shit. Because just the other night I went out without telling my parents. When I came back they were pissed and started saying shit like I violated my probation. I responded saying "no I didn't because they don't know about it and there not gonna find out either". So later that night I was chillin in my garage watchin t.v. And laying on the couch and my mom comes in and says " next time you do that I'm calling the cops myself and you'll be gone" which makes the whole "we don't wanna see you get sent away again" line a bunch of BULLSHIT.
Oh and she said "again" because a long while ago my parents sent me to a wilderness program called sagewalk for 67 days. So I know they don't have a problem with sending me away.
Now back to the whole being who you wanna be thing. Sorry theirs just so much going through my mind right now its hard to concentrate and stay focused but all this stuff ties into what I'm trying to say somehow. I don't think its possible to be who you really wanna be because of all the laws I mean think about it if you do something someone doesn't approve of you get punished for it. And the punishment just gets harsher and harsher each time. With all the laws that there are its ridiculous they're trying to make everyone fallow the some way of living. Your born you grow up going to school with you parents pushing you to get good grades and graduate. Then you get a job that you get stuck doing forever unless you catch a break and get rich quick. Then after you get a job you get married and get a house and have kids whom you raise and teach to live the same BULLSHIT way you lived because that's the way America thinks is the best way to live life. I know that not everyone lives this way that would be impossible. But its what they want you to do and how they want you to live don't ask me why. Cause Ill just keep it simple and tell you because they a bunch of dickfuckin bitches. I hate all of that BULLSHIT I just wanna live young and say fuck you to everyone and everything trying to stop me. Now this isn't logical but shit why not do your best to try. I know tons of parents/adults who bitch and whine all day about going to work and paying bills and blah blah blah all saying have fun while you're a kid don't grow up with a lil chuckle at the end. Then you go out get drunk and smoke some pot and their lecturing you about school and getting a job and being more mature. Fuckin wake up you air headed fagots I'm jus trying to have some fun incase as I get older I get sucked into the same mess your in walking around with stick up your ass never getting laid and being bossed around by other dickfucks who got trapped in the life that is suppose to be fallowed by everybody. So really you cant be who you wanna be…. I cant be who I wanna be. Just a kid who wants to – GET DRUNK, GET HIGH, AND GET LAID-. So everyone who feels the same way just keep having fun and doing what you're doing but be smart about it. Because now I'm stuck on probation for 6 months fallowing rules like a bitch. Well I could go on for days but I'm gonna stop with this last lil thing
Source:
The original blog-testimony on Myspace
torsdag den 25. august 2011
Doug at Sagewalk
I don't know how to really dispell the myths about Sagewalk being a "boot camp" and students being "tortured and abused" other than just describing how a typical day went for me. This is rather long so pop some popcorn or something...
Day starts off by counselors calling 5 minutes. This means that everyone has 5 minutes to be dressed, have their sleeping bags hung on a tree, grab their food bags, and be sitting around the firepit. If everyone does not have this done by 5 minutes, everything gets put back the way it was, then you do it again until every thing is completed in the 5 minute slot.
After this, there is hygeine. This involves filling your cup with water and soap, taking your rag and washing your face, hands and feet. I believe 8 or 10 minutes was given for hygeine. You had to be checked off by a counselor. If not everyone was checked off by a counselor in the allotted time, everyone had to do it again, although it was fairly easy the second time around, since most everyone was already clean and didnt need to do additional scrubbing.
Then came breakfast, usually 20 minute time limit. Breakfast consisted of usually cold oats, with water, powdered milk, and then if you rationed well, brown sugar and raisins. If a fire was going, campers had the option of heating their oats, although only a few did so (I preferred my oats cold). You were required to eat at least 2 cups of oats, and one quart of water, both checked off (one girl forgot to check off that she had drank her quart of water, was forced to drink another and promptly vomited next to me) After this, you needed to clean your cup, which involved taking making mud and scrubbing the inside of your cup with it and rinsing it out until it was spotless. If everyone did not have their food eaten and cups cleaned by time limit, then spices would not be available for later meals (you needed to make 3 time limits in a row in order to have spices). All food that was prepared is required to be eaten, regardless if you feel full or the food doesn't taste good. Some people vomited because of this, including myself after using too much spice on my rice and lentils.
After this, usually came some sort of planned activity, gathering firewood, some sort of group therapy, or when we were moved to a site in the Orinoco (?) Forest, day-hiking (food and water only, no packs) up mountains and through forests and what not (probably the most fun activity there, incredibly beautiful) although we couldn't really do this at the high desert site and apparently, SW has moved back there where I spent my first 10 days or so. Gathering firewood was rather difficult in the high desert, since we were required by both SW and BLM policy to take only dead and down trees.
Lunch was usually very light, just some granola and another quart of water. Very easy to make time limit, if there was one (sometimes we would stop hiking and sit and snack then continue). This meal wasn't required, but was only taken away if the group was misbehaving (never taken away if we were hiking or going to hike). Afternoon activities were performed, sometimes our "homework", coursework that focused on goals, aspirations, management skills, etc. not your typical math, science, english etc. or more firewood collecting, therapy, etc. Dinner was usually at sunset or so (preceeded by hygeine again), since we could not really do much after dark anyways.
Dinner was rice and lentils except for Wednesday nights and Thursday nights. Wednesday night, we were given dehydrated refried beans and tortillas, made absolutely amazing (well, in comparison to the rice and lentils) burritos and Thursday nights was Macaroni night, which if you still had some cheese (most was used during burrito night) could make mac and cheese. Even without cheese, however, just regular macaroni was much better tasting than the rice and lentils. Since Rice and Lentils take at least 20 minutes to cook on the fire, time limit was either 40 minutes or 60 minutes depending on behavior (longer time limit for better behavior).
While food was cooking, we were required to write a page in our journals. We also had a moment of silence (controversial, i think) and this was also the time when most of the group therapy occurred, when counselors encouraged the campers to express greivances, whether it be with SW, the counselors themselves, other students, or just problems in general. Usually, this either allowed for compromise and conflict resolution, or sometimes flared tempers (some girl I remember believed in Creationism, which I was fine with, but then she started ripping on evolution, which I was not cool with). Food was then eaten, then cups cleaned, food bags put away and we were dismissed to bed. Although we did not have any concept of time of there other than what day it was, I could guess that we received at least 11-12 hours of sleep a night (7-8pm till 7-8am).
Perhaps the least fun activity, and the one with the most controversy, would be the hiking. This involved taking down camp, with a time limit, packing up, then hiking upwards of 8 miles. Taking down camp involved dismantling the shelter, usually 2 or so tarps tied up to trees with rope. Filling in the firepit, filling in the latrine, then rock and sticking it. Filling up the "reds" (small water jugs). Spilling excessive water from the reds would require you to lift a full "red" above your head 25 times yelling at the top of your lungs "I will not spill the red, this is for my safety (rep number)".
After the camp was taken down, next (still during time limit) was to pack our packs...usually involved rolling our gray mats (what we sit on around the campfire) and our tarps up, strapping to the back of the pack, then filling our packs with our sleeping bags, extra clothes and food bags. Packs usually weighed somewhere around 80 (supposively) pounds, depending on how full the food bag was. In addition, several were assigned to carry the full "reds" (probably between 10-20 lbs) in their hands, and someone with the empty whites and siphon hose. Hiking was what you made of it.
I had undiagnosed diabetes, I weighed 115 (when I finally got diagnosed and started insulin, I spiked at just under 150 lbs, 35 lbs weight gain in about 3 months) and was chronically fatigued. My first hike, we need to scale a small rock face, basically about 100 ft of steps. I fell over a few times and threw up. I was reassured by my peers that this was normal, and the counselors would make us continue until we reached our destination, regardless of fatigue level. The counselors gave us a break after 1/2 mile after we finished the rock face climb. After I got some water in me, I felt much much better and we hiked another 5 miles or so, me only falling over once more due to a misstep. I was also taught early on in my program that the biggest key to hiking is packing your pack correctly, putting your heavy stuff on top and making sure the waist straps are above your hips. After this tip, hiking was fairly easy, with the only real problem being overall fatigue from high blood sugar (all food is high in carbs to provide energy, which was not good for me).
After hiking, camp set-up, opposite of camp take-down with time-limit. If camp setup or takedown took longer than time limit, rules dictated that we were supposed to re-do it all over again (45 minutes worth of work) but many times, the counselors, if they saw genuine effort and hustle (or if problems out of camper control came to light) they were pretty lienent.
I'm positive I've forgotten many things, or certain details are incorrect, it has been 3 years since I attended. If you have any questions as to other stuff, feel free to post them here, or im usually on AIM/AOL at phawktard. Please, if you're going to contact me on AIM, don't abuse this. I'm more than willing to answer questions as long as they're not of rhetorical nature...leave your criticism here on the board.
Doug
Sources:
Typical Day at Sagewalk, a thread on the Fornits Home for Wayward Web Fora
lørdag den 30. juli 2011
Movie: Aaron Bacon
Unfortunately his death was neither the first, the only or the latest. This tragedy was just a number in a long, long statistic.
As late as 2010 the latest known death occured in Texas treatment program during a wilderness outing.
Can wilderness therapy be conducted in a safe way. The managers of the wilderness programs claim this but as teens continue to be listed among those who never returned such claims must be regarded as doubtful.
You have to judge. Please watch the movie and decide for you self.
Source:
lørdag den 4. juni 2011
A testimony from the Second Nature Wilderness program
This statement were given in relationship with the GAO hearding years back. All rights belong to the original contributor edantes169 who wrote it on the End Institutional Abuse Wiki:
“GROUP FOUR!”
My eyes jerked open. NO.
“GROUP FOUR!”
No. You have GOT to be kidding. Not now. Not after we’ve all just settled down…
“GROUP FOUR!”
These were my thoughts, the moment I heard P’s voice sound throughout the silent wood, as I felt tears spring to my eyes yet again. What, in the name of God, could it possibly be now?
We had done something else wrong. That was the obvious answer. But what vile, unforgivable sin against mankind had one of the group members committed to make us deserve this?
Fighting tears, lest that weakness earn some other punishment, I felt around in the pitch black tent for my discarded socks, already filthied from three or four straight days’ hiking in the wilderness of Georgia. I laced back up those detestable boots, covered with caked mud which I felt crack and scatter over my sleeping bag and other possessions which I tried so hard to keep clean. The darkness was impenetrable, and as I rose once more I could only follow the sound of Petra’s barking call for us to assemble at the beastly hour.
I could see the staff’s hat flashlights gathered in a circle as I stumbled through the deciduous vegetation in the darkness. As I joined the circle I observed the expressions of my fellow groupmates. E was crying. I could not blame her; I was about ready to cry myself. In addition to being imprisoned in this physically, mentally, and emotionally strenuous Wilderness program, I was being forced to take a powerful anti-psychotic, Abilify. This medication made me constantly exhausted, flat. It was like a perverted joke. I had been on the border of sleeping; we had been dismissed to our tents for only ten to fifteen minutes at the most. Why they had waited this long to call us, I can to this day only assume is to inflict misery and suffering on the weak and disadvantaged. Upon the face of every staff- P_, D_, M_, the lot- was fixed what we called the “Staff Expression” something which can be most simply described as a borderline smile. It was like a smile of sadistic pleasure suppressed only from acting and experience in hiding the pleasure gotten from watching the us suffer.
We were constantly exhausted: the routine of hiking, mile after mile, day after day- was too much for us. We were never permitted to know what time it was, or where we were going, or to even speak while we were hiking. Staff, meanwhile, could laugh, talk, and joke all they wanted. This was their power. If they didn’t like something that was said, they could put you on “Silence.” No talking. No one was even allowed to talk if a Staff wasn’t in earshot. We were not permitted to say certain words- words such as “very,” or “kind of.” If you said, “I am very tired,” or “I’m kind of hungry,“ you were punished, because you are tired, or you aren’t. You are hungry, or you aren’t. You were also not allowed to feel “secondary emotions.” These were emotions that resulted from other emotions. For example, anger is not something you can feel in a wilderness program. You can feel sad or frustrated, but not angry, because anger is a Secondary Emotion stemmed from sadness or frustration. This is what we were taught, and if we went against it, we were punished.
They called a Random Pack Search. We all stood in that circle of misery and waited, waited in turns for them to finish searching everything we had so that we could just go back to our sleeping bags and let the darkness envelop our bodies and minds. One staff stayed with the rest while the other three went with three different group members at a time to search their things. P went with me on my turn and I emptied everything I had onto the ground until she was satisfied and ordered me to put everything back.
They waited until the very last to bring out the evildoer. As D_ and K came back from her tent I could see tear streaks that cut through the grime on her face. Dave was holding a summer sausage in his hand. I felt a stab of weary frustration: we had already put up the bear bags. Every night, part of our routine was to rope together all the food bags and hoist the heavy load over a tree branch so that animals would not reach it.
“K,” D_ said, the Staff Expression dancing on his face. I remember watching him to see if he would break into a smile, and at one point he did. “Would you like to explain to the group what this is?”
We all looked at the perpetrator. K was burning with shame and anger. And why not? She was the one we had to blame for being called out of our sleeping bags after we had already pulled our rough socks and boots from our swollen and blistered feet, only to pull them back on again, like an April Fool’s joke from hell. And for what? As it turned out, she confessed to us, she had noticed the forgotten sausage only after the bear bags had been hoisted, and stuffed it into her own bag to save us the suffering of hiking the half mile back to the bear bags to replace the sausage with its fellow food items, which could, as we were taught, attract bears living in a sanctuary twenty miles away. Because bears will travel twenty miles in pitch darkness just to torment a treatment kid with a single summer sausage buried deep at the bottom of her bag, as the staff knew.
Since one person is guilty then the whole group is guilty. And since one person suffered, the whole group suffered. It is the way of Wilderness. If one person fails to complete a task, the whole group fails. We are all punished. For the transgressions of another. And because of K’s great sin- putting the whole group in danger of a bear attack stretching twenty miles, then covering it up like the delinquent conspirator she was- we would all suffer the same fate as she. I remember pitying K- she acted out of consideration for us all.
We began our trek to the bear bags. Since they were across a stream, we were all soaked again. The darkness covered everything not within five feet of one of the staffs hat , and so as we climbed, I remember tripping and stumbling over the uneven ground as we journeyed closer toward the bear bags, and hearing similar cries of pain from my groupmates. Staff, meanwhile, jumped and strode cheerfully onward, jauntily swinging their lights around as though to mock us in our blind desolation. One girl asked M_ twice to keep her light steady, and both times she was ignored.
We reached the bear bags, untied the holding rope and dropped them to replace the sausage. The loathsome task completed, we hoisted the heavy food bags again and journeyed once more back through the woods and back across the stream. Then, and only then did they dismiss us back to the tents that were not big enough and the sleeping bags full of spiders and millipedes and slugs and god knows what else. “Let this be a lesson to you all,” D_ had said, before letting us go. “Always be honest. Don’t ever try to hide anything, because you will get caught, and you will be punished. Good night.” The next day, K__ was put on “Separates” and we were thus forbidden to speak to or of her.
More than three years have passed since then. Why, then, do I recount this story? Because I must. I must give this snapshot, one of countless other sufferings that occurred and continue to occur there. It is my obligation to expose the corruption, the misery, the suffering found within Second Nature Blue Ridge Wilderness Program. As a veteran and survivor I denounce that place of suffering and desolation masquerading as a program of help, of healing, of positive energy. I forget nothing. I forgive nothing. I will remember, and I will see justice for that suffering.
Source
The End Institutional Abuse Wiki
“GROUP FOUR!”
My eyes jerked open. NO.
“GROUP FOUR!”
No. You have GOT to be kidding. Not now. Not after we’ve all just settled down…
“GROUP FOUR!”
These were my thoughts, the moment I heard P’s voice sound throughout the silent wood, as I felt tears spring to my eyes yet again. What, in the name of God, could it possibly be now?
We had done something else wrong. That was the obvious answer. But what vile, unforgivable sin against mankind had one of the group members committed to make us deserve this?
Fighting tears, lest that weakness earn some other punishment, I felt around in the pitch black tent for my discarded socks, already filthied from three or four straight days’ hiking in the wilderness of Georgia. I laced back up those detestable boots, covered with caked mud which I felt crack and scatter over my sleeping bag and other possessions which I tried so hard to keep clean. The darkness was impenetrable, and as I rose once more I could only follow the sound of Petra’s barking call for us to assemble at the beastly hour.
I could see the staff’s hat flashlights gathered in a circle as I stumbled through the deciduous vegetation in the darkness. As I joined the circle I observed the expressions of my fellow groupmates. E was crying. I could not blame her; I was about ready to cry myself. In addition to being imprisoned in this physically, mentally, and emotionally strenuous Wilderness program, I was being forced to take a powerful anti-psychotic, Abilify. This medication made me constantly exhausted, flat. It was like a perverted joke. I had been on the border of sleeping; we had been dismissed to our tents for only ten to fifteen minutes at the most. Why they had waited this long to call us, I can to this day only assume is to inflict misery and suffering on the weak and disadvantaged. Upon the face of every staff- P_, D_, M_, the lot- was fixed what we called the “Staff Expression” something which can be most simply described as a borderline smile. It was like a smile of sadistic pleasure suppressed only from acting and experience in hiding the pleasure gotten from watching the us suffer.
We were constantly exhausted: the routine of hiking, mile after mile, day after day- was too much for us. We were never permitted to know what time it was, or where we were going, or to even speak while we were hiking. Staff, meanwhile, could laugh, talk, and joke all they wanted. This was their power. If they didn’t like something that was said, they could put you on “Silence.” No talking. No one was even allowed to talk if a Staff wasn’t in earshot. We were not permitted to say certain words- words such as “very,” or “kind of.” If you said, “I am very tired,” or “I’m kind of hungry,“ you were punished, because you are tired, or you aren’t. You are hungry, or you aren’t. You were also not allowed to feel “secondary emotions.” These were emotions that resulted from other emotions. For example, anger is not something you can feel in a wilderness program. You can feel sad or frustrated, but not angry, because anger is a Secondary Emotion stemmed from sadness or frustration. This is what we were taught, and if we went against it, we were punished.
They called a Random Pack Search. We all stood in that circle of misery and waited, waited in turns for them to finish searching everything we had so that we could just go back to our sleeping bags and let the darkness envelop our bodies and minds. One staff stayed with the rest while the other three went with three different group members at a time to search their things. P went with me on my turn and I emptied everything I had onto the ground until she was satisfied and ordered me to put everything back.
They waited until the very last to bring out the evildoer. As D_ and K came back from her tent I could see tear streaks that cut through the grime on her face. Dave was holding a summer sausage in his hand. I felt a stab of weary frustration: we had already put up the bear bags. Every night, part of our routine was to rope together all the food bags and hoist the heavy load over a tree branch so that animals would not reach it.
“K,” D_ said, the Staff Expression dancing on his face. I remember watching him to see if he would break into a smile, and at one point he did. “Would you like to explain to the group what this is?”
We all looked at the perpetrator. K was burning with shame and anger. And why not? She was the one we had to blame for being called out of our sleeping bags after we had already pulled our rough socks and boots from our swollen and blistered feet, only to pull them back on again, like an April Fool’s joke from hell. And for what? As it turned out, she confessed to us, she had noticed the forgotten sausage only after the bear bags had been hoisted, and stuffed it into her own bag to save us the suffering of hiking the half mile back to the bear bags to replace the sausage with its fellow food items, which could, as we were taught, attract bears living in a sanctuary twenty miles away. Because bears will travel twenty miles in pitch darkness just to torment a treatment kid with a single summer sausage buried deep at the bottom of her bag, as the staff knew.
Since one person is guilty then the whole group is guilty. And since one person suffered, the whole group suffered. It is the way of Wilderness. If one person fails to complete a task, the whole group fails. We are all punished. For the transgressions of another. And because of K’s great sin- putting the whole group in danger of a bear attack stretching twenty miles, then covering it up like the delinquent conspirator she was- we would all suffer the same fate as she. I remember pitying K- she acted out of consideration for us all.
We began our trek to the bear bags. Since they were across a stream, we were all soaked again. The darkness covered everything not within five feet of one of the staffs hat , and so as we climbed, I remember tripping and stumbling over the uneven ground as we journeyed closer toward the bear bags, and hearing similar cries of pain from my groupmates. Staff, meanwhile, jumped and strode cheerfully onward, jauntily swinging their lights around as though to mock us in our blind desolation. One girl asked M_ twice to keep her light steady, and both times she was ignored.
We reached the bear bags, untied the holding rope and dropped them to replace the sausage. The loathsome task completed, we hoisted the heavy food bags again and journeyed once more back through the woods and back across the stream. Then, and only then did they dismiss us back to the tents that were not big enough and the sleeping bags full of spiders and millipedes and slugs and god knows what else. “Let this be a lesson to you all,” D_ had said, before letting us go. “Always be honest. Don’t ever try to hide anything, because you will get caught, and you will be punished. Good night.” The next day, K__ was put on “Separates” and we were thus forbidden to speak to or of her.
More than three years have passed since then. Why, then, do I recount this story? Because I must. I must give this snapshot, one of countless other sufferings that occurred and continue to occur there. It is my obligation to expose the corruption, the misery, the suffering found within Second Nature Blue Ridge Wilderness Program. As a veteran and survivor I denounce that place of suffering and desolation masquerading as a program of help, of healing, of positive energy. I forget nothing. I forgive nothing. I will remember, and I will see justice for that suffering.
Source
The End Institutional Abuse Wiki
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