I did not have a good relationship with my mom–never have. My mom has always been more controlling than loving. I had a (very toxic) boyfriend that my mom did not like. She wanted to keep me away from him, so I started sneaking out of the house at night to see him. I never did drugs or any other crimes. Sneaking out to have sex with my boyfriend was the worst thing I did. I was a lost child that needed love and guidance and I was not receiving that at home, or from anyone. I did not have any adults I trusted or could talk to. I could not talk to my mom about anything because she was not understanding at all. Instead, she would call me names, which made me feel awful. So, I did not tell her things. I became very secretive and hateful.
In May of 2005, after just turning 17, my mom, aunt, and cousin drove me from southern Florida to northern Georgia. They told me we were going to a school that would help me. I did not know what I needed help for.
I arrived at Darrington Academy and was taken into a room with my mom, aunt, a man who worked there, and my “hope buddy.” I remember crying and begging them not to leave me there. How could they just leave me in a whole different state with a bunch of strangers?! My crying and begging did not work. They left me there. I was then taken to intake where I had to get completely naked in front of strangers. It was mortifying. They then took my clothes and gave me my uniforms. Khaki pants, collared and button-down shirts, sweats, P.E. clothes, and fake Birkenstock-looking shoes.
I was eventually taken to the trailer with the rest of my new “family.” I was scared and confused. I cried uncontrollably for the first three months I was there¬¬–I wanted to die. The food was disgusting. You had to eat all of it, or you got in trouble. I went from 100lbs to 130-40lbs in three months. I hated looking at myself in the mirror. We were not allowed to shave, wear our hair down, pluck our eyebrows–nothing that made you feel like a human being. They said wanted us to love ourselves for our true selves, so they made us be natural.
We had to walk in line and pivot, military-style. We had to count while using the bathroom, even if it was in the middle of the night. Five-minute showers with no conditioner for our hair because conditioner was a “privilege.” We were only allowed to say five words without having to ask permission to speak first. Those five words were “thank you, sorry, excuse me, you’re welcome, and bless you.” We made our own language with those five words. Sometimes that is the only way we were able to communicate!
We had our daily group “therapy” session, where we further brought each other down through “feedback,” which was usually negative. We had to sit with our feet flat on the floor and our hands in our laps. If we moved or sat lazily, we would be punished. It is incredibly hard to be so conscious of your sitting position.
There were very few staff members who felt bad for us and were kind people. Most of them were just mean. They got pleasure from telling us what to do. They were verbally and mentally abusive. They enjoyed giving us consequences.
We had no contact with our family. Only the letters we wrote, which started off handwritten then turned electronic so they could monitor and delete outgoing and incoming messages.
The seminars were absolute insanity. I heard some things I had never heard before. I had no idea what the word sodomy meant before one of these seminars. I was exposed to so much. Often during these seminars, we had to make things up just to seem like we were working our program so we could advance. During the focus seminar, I remember they wrapped our towels with duct tape and one of the exercises was to bang the towels as hard as we could on the floor to let out aggression. The music was blaring, kids were screaming, the seminar staff members were yelling things at us to keep going. It was very bizarre. I remember banging the towel on the floor and being so exhausted, but I just kept going and screaming for fear of being kicked out for not taking it seriously. My body was sore for a week after that.
After about six months I had finally made it to Level 4, or Upper Levels. I was so excited. I could shave my legs, pluck my eyebrows, and curl my hair! I was even happier because this meant I would get an off-ground visit with my family! My first visit was going to be at Christmas. I could not wait! I was under the impression that if I finished school my mom would take me home during my off-ground Christmas visit. I only had one class left to graduate. It was algebra, and math has never been my subject. I decided to have one of my friends who was super smart in math do my work for me. We got caught and I was dropped from Level 4, three days before Christmas and one day before my family was supposed to leave to come to see me. I was devastated. I spent that Christmas so insanely depressed. I was so embarrassed. I hoped and prayed my family would come to get me. But they did not.
My next seminar was PC1 (Parent-Child 1) which was in February of 2006. Just two months before my 18th birthday. My mom came up for the seminar. I remember telling her exactly what she wanted to hear, in hopes that she would take me home right then. Why would she make me sit there for two more months when she could just take me now? Well, the seminar ended, and my mom left me. Again, I was absolutely heartbroken. I cried so hard for days. Then I told myself it was just two more months; I could do this. Two more months and I would be 18 and free.
Those two months were a roller coaster. I have never felt such heartache and pain the way I felt being at Darrington Academy. That place forever changed my soul. The only good that came out of that place were the girls there. We formed a bond that only we could understand. My friendships with those girls are something I will forever cherish. I could not have gone through that without them. They are my sisters and for them I am grateful.