When I was 13 years old, I struggled with anxiety, depression, PTSD, and eating disorders. In September 2015, I was hospitalized for a suicide attempt. When I was later discharged from the inpatient treatment center, my social worker spoke with my parents and convinced them that I should be admitted to Elevations RTC.
The next three months were the worst of my life. To 13-year-old me, it felt like an eternity. I was stripped naked, searched, and had to take an unnecessary lice shower while staff watched. Being watched became normal. While you were at the first rank, staff had to be with you 24/7. Staff always had the restroom stall and shower curtain open to make sure you were not doing anything against the rules. You could be promoted by the Board of Directors after two weeks–if you wrote a letter trying to convince them how good you were and why you deserved it. I was not good, so I was at the beginning rank for three weeks. I was with staff 24/7, slept on a thin mattress in the hallway with bright lights overhead, and had no privileges. When I say no privileges, I mean none. You sat with staff all day, staring at the wall, letting your mind wander. You could not even have a deck of cards or go to school until the second rank.
I was the youngest female student/patient at Elevations RTC at the time and the only girl from Utah. The girls were split into two teams, based on the hallway they lived in: Ruby and Amethyst. I was on Ruby. The first day there, at my first team meeting, I was torn apart. I was immediately harassed and bullied by two of the girls, while the staff watched and called me cruel names.
Yellow Zone was one of the punishments for being bad. The other was the Time-Out Room, which was solitary confinement. When you were on Yellow Zone, you sat at a desk all day. You could not speak or look at anyone. The Time-Out room was a cold, dark, concrete room at the end of the hall. You could be on Yellow Zone or in solitary confinement for up to 48 hours. Of course, most people got thrown back in an hour later.
One of the most traumatic takedowns was one from Amethyst. A girl who could not stand without the use of a walker or crutches moved in a ‘suspicious way’ in the shower and was dragged by the arms, naked, from Amethyst Hall to the isolation room at the end of Ruby Hall. She was screaming the whole way, begging staff to stop hurting her. Her legs were full of carpet burns and bruises.
One time my roommate passed out while at the gym, fell backward, and hit her head. She was unconscious for a few seconds before staff noticed and went to check on her, probably because they thought she was being lazy or faking it. She returned to consciousness with some help and had to finish the rest of P.E. before receiving nothing but an icepack. Later that night, while we were playing cards, she passed out and began to seize.
I screamed, “She’s having a seizure, she’s having a seizure!”
I cleared the area of things she could hit her head on and did not touch her.
The staff hollered back “I’m busy,” clearly not believing me.
I had our other roommate check on the staff, and all they were doing was sitting next to a new resident on their phone. By the time staff came to our room, my roommate was done seizing, and had returned to consciousness. I told them she had had a seizure and they said I was not medically trained. They never reported it to the doctor, nurse, or anyone. We showered and went to bed shortly after that with no further incidents. The next morning, on the way to school, she passed out and began seizing on the concrete. Staff saw it this time and called 9-1-1. After being released from the hospital, she continued to pass out.
This barely scrapes the surface of the horrors I endured and saw. Elevations RTC has left me with PTSD, dissociative amnesia, and nightmares.