In the spring of 1998, at age 12, my mom found an old entry written in my diary about drug use and was understandably concerned. My parents sent me to a therapist for an evaluation, where the therapist barraged me with questions about my drug use and, when I answered honestly, made to feel that she thought I was lying, despite a negative drug test.
A short while later, I went to my regular family therapist, who told me that I was being sent to inpatient rehab at Caron Foundation Adolescent Treatment Center (Wernersville, PA) immediately following that appointment. I later found out that the other therapist who referred me had a daughter at that facility. They admitted me despite having another negative drug test and not meeting the criteria for any “substance dependence,” and I spent six weeks there. How they justified the need for inpatient to the insurance company, which paid for the first four weeks, I still do not know. I felt continually pressured by staff into admitting to more and more drug use that never happened and, to please them and fit in with my older and much “cooler” peers, I did.
When I did try to tell the truth, the staff did not believe me or told me that I was “minimizing” or “in denial.” While there, my parents and I were “educated” about my “chronic, progressive, incurable, fatal disease” and told that I was “a liar and a manipulator” and that anything I said that contradicted Caron was evidence of my “disease.” Caron forced me to attend 12 Step meetings and identify with the label of “addict,” which I proceeded to do for almost 20 years.
A little over a year later, I accidentally overdosed and was in a house fire, resulting in being in critical condition on a ventilator for several days due to carbon monoxide poisoning and anoxia. I was sent back to Caron directly from the hospital for a couple of weeks. I was severely bullied by others, ostracized from the community, and told by my peers that I was lying about the fire and staff did not intervene or correct them. Out of desperation, I ran away but was returned to the facility and discharged shortly after that.
Upon discharge, I started high school and attended IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program) almost every day after school based on Caron’s recommendations. I also had to go to additional meetings every week and was not allowed any contact outside of school with my friends.
Feeling overwhelmed, trapped, and like I was not allowed to have a life outside of school or treatment, in addition to not having the time or space for my brain to heal, I became more and more angry and emotional. At that point, at age 14, I was sent to Four Winds Hospital (Katonah, NY) to be evaluated and treated. They placed me on a cocktail of heavy psychiatric drugs despite the evaluation showing no need for them. I continued to take various unnecessary medications for the next ten years.
Throughout the following decade, I experienced numerous side effects from the medications, including having tremors so bad I could hardly write, feeling sedated and emotionally numbed, having increased anxiety, and having more difficulty with impulse control. I also eventually began to develop the early signs of tardive dyskinesia. However, thankfully, that was reversible and had other as-yet-unexplained neurological side effects, which disappeared after I stopped the medication. Despite the evaluation stating otherwise, I was told that I had a “mental illness” and would likely need prescriptions for the rest of my life. Over time, everyone involved in my “treatment,” including my parents, seemed to see all of my thoughts, emotions, and behavior through the lens of “mental illness.” I felt like I ceased to be a person and became a collection of symptoms instead. I was subsequently treated about a year and a half later at Stony Lodge Hospital (Ossining, NY – now closed) and then KidsPeace Hospital (Orefield, PA) following suicide attempts. At Stony Lodge, they restrained me for the first of many times. I had everything taken from me, including my dignity. They forced me to eat with my hands because I could not have plastic tableware. I could not shower or use the bathroom in private.
At KidsPeace, my treating psychiatrist took me off the antipsychotic drug overnight, which threw me into a psychotic episode that I did not come out of for another month and a half. Before I learned that that episode was not proof of my “illness” but the result of antipsychotic withdrawal, I was an adult.
The following fall, I experienced painful rejection and isolation from my peers at school and was kicked out of school for throwing water on a teacher. As I felt my life falling apart, my emotions and behavior got more out of control. Numerous inpatient and outpatient facilities in NY and PA (including Stony Lodge, Lourdesmont School, KidsPeace, Caron, Horsham Clinic, and others) treated me. I continued to be overmedicated and was repeatedly physically, mechanically, and chemically restrained. As things continued to get worse despite (in fact, because of) multiple treatments, I was eventually sent to an RTC, Rancho Valmora (Valmora, NM – now closed), and was a resident there from 06/2002-08/2003 (ages 16-17).
While there were some helpful and positive things about it, I also experienced verbal, psychological, and physical abuse and medical neglect. I was completely isolated from everyone outside the facility. All my phone calls were monitored, and my mail was screened. I did not see my parents without supervision for six months and, by that time, they had been instructed to disregard anything negative I had to say about the facility. I was put in “5-point” prone physical restraints almost every day for months on end, primarily used for control rather than safety. In the vast majority of those times, I was not a danger to myself or others; I dared to think that I should retain some bodily autonomy and control of my own life. The facility used my “non-compliance” to convince me and those around me that I deserved this “treatment” and that I brought it on myself. I graduated high school there and was discharged a month before turning 18 directly to Caron’s Adolescent Extended Care program for another three months.
I returned to Caron once more voluntarily on my 19th birthday and was admitted into their Adult Relapse unit. Since then, I have not returned to any inpatient facility in over 16+ years. I subsequently completed my bachelor’s degree and now direct a small mental health peer advocacy department. I am a wife, mom, stepmom, and dog owner. However, I spent a decade of my adulthood in a highly fundamentalist, cult-like sect of Alcoholics Anonymous.
I have spent decades blaming myself for everything that happened, believing I deserved it all, that I was “ill” and could not trust my thoughts, emotions, or experiences. In each case, the treatment itself became a self-fulfilling (and arguably self-serving) prophecy. I was “treated” until I developed whatever condition they were “treating” me for, and then that was used as evidence of the appropriateness of their treatment. The treatment industry gaslighted me, and I now have C-PTSD, anxiety, nightmares, abandonment issues, and trust issues. But I am no longer letting anyone else give me my identity or tell me my story. For the first time, I am speaking my truth. I will not continue to stay silent for anyone else’s comfort anymore.