Posted in memory of those who lost
their lives on September 11, 2001.
For all my brothers and sisters and their families who are suffering or suffered under these programs.
And, of course, for my mother, who was just
as much a victim as I was.
Casa by the Sea Journal
Monday, November 11, 2002 8:46 p.m.
It's hard to believe that I've
only been here for almost 5 weeks. It feels like a year already. I
feel so drained. Drained of everything.
Drained from this daily routine, every day the same as before.
Everyday I spend sitting and doing book work, eat, PE, shower and then
sleep. I feel drained of my happiness. Sometimes I sit and poke at my
saggy cheeks and the bags under my eyes, from all the crying and weeks
of no facial expressions. I miss smiling. A real, honest, joyful
smile. I miss laughing too. Im drained of emotion. I've learned to
numb myself in order to ease the pain, but all that comes through is
loneliness and hurt no matter what I try to do. And regret. Regret for
everything I've done to end up here. All of the times I spent taking
everything out on my parents because of my own damn insecurities. Not
caring about anything or anyone because I couldn't even care about
myself. Until I met my friends. I don't think anyone understands how
much my friends have helped me these past few months. Not even my
parents. I miss my friend. He made me realize so much, and for the
briefest moment, I actually began to feel good about myself. I began to
care. I began to realize what was happening with my parents. I
actually started to change for the better. For the brief time before I
was sent here - I was happy. I didn't ever mean for things to get to
this. If only I had my friends a year ago, then I wouldn't even be here
- pouring my heart and tears out on a sheet of paper at a program in
Ensenada, Mexico. I wouldn't be here reminiscing over how my life used
to be, missing out on so much at home. I'd be home. Living my life.
Enjoying each day. If only.
Tuesday, November 12, 2002 9:02 p.m.
I couldn't sleep last night. I
was thinking of home and my friends and family - things I usually think
about before I drift into a peaceful sub consciousness. But last night
it hit me. Hard. This reality; I laid there staring at the ceiling,
somewhat lighted by the bright translucent light glowing from the
bathroom. I laid there listening to the orchestrated sound of squeaky
beds and the percussion of snoring. This anthem that has become my
night life. No more late nights watching Saturday Night live and
simultaneously talking on the phone. No more sleepovers with Nooshin,
and Kelly and Lauren, and Dominique, and Rhiannon. No more late night
trips to In-N-Out at one in the morning on weekends with the J's. No
more soft, cool breezes flowing through the Jeep window at night as I
drive home. My home. To my bed. In my room. To my family. As I laid
and stared at the ceiling, I thought. Thought of what I had. What
everybody else still has and is taking for granted. I took a deep
breath to try to hold back the tears. Ahh - nothing like the fresh
smell of warm shit and stale air - the smell of Mexico. That's about
the time I broke down. Look at me. Look at where I am. Look at where
I'm spending my glorified senior year and my precious pre-adulthood
teenage years. Right then, the siren went off and everyone jumped out
of bed for the midnight headcount. Another runaway? I climbed back
into bed. Would I ever get that desperate? Will my life here one day
resort to that too? God, I hope not. I try to keep reminding myself of
everything back home. Reminding myself that the empty desk at school,
the vacant spot on the choir risers, the open seat at the dinner table
on Thanksgiving Day, the one less stocking hanging from the fireplace on
Christmas, the roomier limo at prom, the skipped name at graduation,
and the blank photo in the yearbook under my name will all be
acknowledged. That it won't seem like just an empty space. That they
will all be painful reminders of the memories that could have been. I
don't want to be forgotten. My entire life I've feared being unloved
and abandoned. Now here I am. With nothing but my fears to comfort
me. I just don't want to become an empty space.
I look at what surrounds me. I
see these girls. I hear their stories unfold, and I can't help but
question if my life was really headed in the same direction as them to
end up in the same place. The drugs, the violence, the sex,
prostitution, rape, alcohol, pregnancies, juvenile hall, the blood and
the tears. These lives and the sad souls who lived them. The lost
hope. Was there no hope for me? Could my life only be fixable by a
last resort like this? Was everything I had, the things I accomplished,
the challenges I overcame just a lie? Were they only covering up for
the hopelessness that lay within me the entire time? Or were they
real? Could I have more hope than these girls? Or am I destined to
live my life here like I'm one of them? I guess so. I'm still here.
Monday, November 18, 2002 8:55 p.m.
My feet pound against the
ground, the earth vibrating from my energy; absorbing it. Footsteps
echo through my head and my heavy constant breathing pulsating through
my ears. The soft cool breeze brushes across my face carrying with it a
whirlwind of worries, heartaches, loss, pain, suffering, and hurt in a
gust of emotion-rich air behind me. My legs ache and begin to become
sore from the weight being hurled across the black pavement. Only it's
not black pavement anymore. It's the grass at Westwood Elementary that I
used to run across without any cares or worries. It's the damp gravel
pavement on James's driveway as I chase after Dusty. It's the concrete
sidewalk on my street as I jog at night. It's the cool sand at the
beach as I run across the dampness and reach for the stars with my
arms. The ocean mist on my face. My feet creating little pivots. My
mark. My signature in the sand. I WAS here once. I DO exist. Its'
the worn gray carpet in the gym at the WWC as I run towards the basket
and make a 3 pointer. Swoosh. Nothing but net. It’s the feel of
concrete against my bare feet as I talk to Jon and Jason in my driveway.
The sky is fire red that fades into a gray blue. Stars shyly appear
with the brightening of the crescent moon. The sunset is beautiful - a
life form all its own. I'm running towards it. I want to touch it. I
want to taste it. The fiery redness on my tongue. Scorching away the
pain, melting away my fears and frustrations. The walls around me
crumble away, and all that's left is the vast horizon. Just me and the
sea. I want to run across the rocks and swim. Far away. Without ever
looking back. Leaving behind me the bad habits, the suffering, the
repression in a red concrete box; this huge red building of concrete
“they” call help. Starting a new life. My heart is beating through my
chest. Remembering a first kiss, how my heart felt the same way.
Remembering how the world seemed so much brighter afterwards. I'm
remembering the high. I'm feeling it. For a brief moment - I am free.
"Es tiempo chicas! PE es terminar! Todos en la linea!" The mama
shouts. We all buck and gallop to the line - smelling and looking like
the cattle we're treated as. The tired faces. I'm thrust back into
reality. I'm HERE again. A place not deserving as sweet of a name as
Casa by the Sea, but rather Casa of Repression: Home of Lost Hope. I
stand in line waiting to call my number. A small bird lands on the key
of the basketball court, pecking at invisible seeds. Why are you here? I
think to myself. Of all the places you could be, the unreachable
heights you could be soaring, why do you choose to be here? Just as I
think it, it flies to the wall, where it lands once again. What do you
see, little bird? What's beyond these walls with the metal spiked tops
and the sirens? Can you see the freedom? Can you see that the world is
different on the inside? Do you understand the difference? It flaps
it's wings and flies off. Into the future - into the freedom. Time
moves on the outside. People are happy on the outside. Hope exists on
the outside. I am free on the outside. Just as it starts to get dark, a
cruise ship sails by on the ocean, littering this part of the world
with more people who could never understand such agony. A bright purple
light shines from the top. Golden flecks of lights in rows. I can hear
the laughter. The music. I can taste the 24 hour all you can eat
buffet. The ship rocking slightly back and forth, underneath me. The
air is crisp as I stand on the deck. I turn around and everyone is
there. Nooshin in her pretty homecoming dress. James wearing another
sarcastic smile. Jon and Jason waiting for a hug. Adam laughing his
famous laugh. My parents and Chelsea and Adam. And everybody. So
happy. "Vamanos chicas!" The mama yells. Left. Left. Left, right,
left. I march to the showers. Will the showers be warm tonight?
Nope. Icy cold on my warm flesh. Shocking me, bringing me back to the
present. Praying for it to be over.
Tuesday, November 19, 2002 9:02 p.m.
I guess it started a few days
ago. "Institutionalized" as a kinder, Shawshank Redemption way of
putting it. I've forgotten so much. I can't even remember Nooshin's
laugh, or the sound of mom's voice or any of it. I've forgotten freedom
- and it's the scariest feeling in the world. It began last week when I
started to have dreams about this place. Nightmares, really. And I'd
wake up at night crying. I can't even escape this place in my dreams.
My one escape, and now that's ripped from me too. I broke out in a
cold sweat in class on saturday. I have no privacy here. I have no
time for myself. Every waking and sleeping minute is spent with the
same 25 people, hovering over me, eyeing me like a hawk. Being sure to
kindly "assist" me with their "feedback" in group anytime I'm not a
walking robot like one of them. Kindly. Ha- that's a laugh. Even at
night, I can't even rest without the night staff staring me down, making
sure all of us fall asleep before they sit down. This
bootcamp-gone-wrong. I try running at “PE” around and around in circles
to release some of this tense energy, but I got so exhausted I
collapsed in the shower and kept yelling at myself in my head to stop
crying. I keep thinking if my parents spent just one day here, living
like I do, feeling like I do, then I wouldn't be here now, wanting to
know so badly what they keep telling my parents on the phone, and why my
parents keep believing them over me.
Thursday, November 21, 2002 11:08 a.m.
I heard somebody singing the
"What a Wonderful World" song today, and it triggered so many emotions.
I haven't stopped crying. I'm trying to get it all down on paper so
that maybe it will make me feel better. That song always reminded me of
Disneyland and my dad, and sometimes he'd sing it every once in a
while. They also played it at the Junior Prom last year, and it was the
last dance of the night, the last dance I attended with the J's. And I
keep remembering all of the good times linked with that song. I just
want to stop feeling like this all of the time. I was sent here a few
days before the homecoming dance we were all suppose to go to also. Am I
just being selfish? Am I just weak? I don't know. What I do know is
that I'd give anything to go back in time and erase everything I've done
to end up here. I'd rather be stabbed a thousand times than feel just
half of what I'm feeling now. I read a 457 page book in two days,
hoping maybe if I read, I could escape what my life has become. She's
Come Undone. I can relate so much of what she feels at times. I
pretend that I live their lives. I surround myself in a fictional
reality. I can't get that song out of my head. It reminds me so much
of home. I just want to be four again. Before things got complicated.
When ice cream solved any problem and mom and dad were like Gods. When
the smallest things such as rolling myself up in a blanket and
pretending that I was a mermaid, or making forts out of couch cushions
could keep me entertained for hours. When I would follow Adam around
everywhere, and I would always want to help mom with Chelsea (at least
for the first few months). Back to where I could grow up again and
re-meet all of the wonderful people God put in my life. Even the ones
who were mean to me and picked on me, because they made me stronger. I
just want to get as far from this place as possible. I'm never even
going to set foot in Mexico ever again.
Same Day 9:09pm
Tuesday night they passed out
letters, and I waited patiently on my bed. When they passed by my bunk,
I got really lonely. But when they passed by my bed again on Wednesday
night, it made me feel really sad that I was the only girl two days in a
row who didn't get a letter. I feel forgotten. Like now that I've
been sent away, I don't exist anymore. That I'm only alive when they
think of me or hear from me. Time for shutdown.
Tuesday, December 11, 2002 7:25 p.m
There's a string of Christmas
lights around a small house up on the hill, and it reminded me of the
walks I would take around the block this time of year to see the
different light displays. I just want so badly to enjoy those simple
things that make the Christmas season that much more enjoyable. Like
warm peach cobbler or apple pie with half melted vanilla ice cream on
top. Like the candy canes on the Christmas tree. Like the 24 hour
marathon of A Christmas Story. I'd give anything to hear a christmas
carol this year, or just be allowed to sing one. I wonder if they'll
let us listen to music on Christmas. I hope so. They didn't on
Thanksgiving. I miss music so much. I've had the song Carol of the
Bells stuck in my head. Women's Ensemble sang that every year when we'd
perform or when we went caroling down at the Vons plaza in RB.
Parent/Child workshop 1 was a few days ago. They dressed this place up
like a five star hotel for the parents. It makes me wonder what they're
trying to cover up. Reality, perhaps? The truth, maybe? It bothers
me that this place fakes their image while at the same time telling us
to step out of our images and be ourselves. Be real. We even had a
different menu. We actually got semi decent food, one of the highlights
of my week. When the parents came parading through the classrooms, we
weren't allowed to talk or look upset in any way. The parents all
seemed so lost - scanning the walls of the room for some kind of hope.
Their faces seemed so worn and tired. I started bawling just watching
them. I felt so bad for who knows what their kids put them through, and
I thought about what I've put my parents through. I wondered if
they're as unsure of this place as those parents. I can only imagine
how this place is trying to morph my parents into thinking just like
them - trying to narrow their peripheral vision so that they only see
through the eyes of this program. Telling them that commitments and
commitment letters will motivate your kid, if they tell them a certain
thing. I ain't no dummy. I see right through this place. I see what a
lot of others don't. I see beyond the enforced commitment letters in
faded black ink, and I see only confused parents - just like their
children - about as unsure of themselves and this program as a pencil in
a crayon box. And it makes me sad. I wanted to run up and hug every
single one of those parents. I want to run up and hug my own parents,
and let them know everything will be okay. After that day, I started to
notice a lot of things fake about this place. Like how they relate
everything that goes on in here as a reflection of your life. "If your
parents pull you, then you're giving up on your life," "If you don't
graduate, then you're doomed to be a failure," "If your parents decide
to give you another chance, they'll destroy you because they'd be
practicing old behaviors," "If you don't respect the girls in your bunk,
how will you ever respect your parents?" blah blah blah. I'd bet
anything that's the same plateful of crap that they're dishing my
parents right about now. But I see through it. Forcing me to sign
something I don't want to or I'll go to R&R. Some visa that makes
it legal for me to be in Mexico. Isn't it illegal, though, to force a
signature? And I know it was illegal for them to transfer me into
another country against my will, even with parental consent it's still
illegal. I didn't make a big deal about it though; you have to fake it
to make it. Play the game and win back your freedom. We had pictures
taken too. They let upper levels pluck our eyebrows and put on mascara
and cover up for us. Why cover anything up? I say let the parents see
what their child has really become. It was hard to smile. The fakest
smile of my life. They try to represent a person's life in one false
moment of happiness. As if they wear that smile and pretty face every
day. "Yup, your child is just fine and dandy here at beautiful Casa by
the Sea. Here, have a picture. See how happy she is? No need to worry
about her. She's just a dramatic, ignorant, manipulative adolescent
delinquent." Well, excuse me, I don't think so. Just because you run
my life now doesn't mean you know me. You'll never know me. You can
sit there and act like you do, but you'll NEVER know me. I'm not
manipulating out of anything. Take in your own feedback there, Mr. and
Mrs. I-work-for-a-program. Who's trying to talk parents into thinking
their kid needs this place like a fish needs water? That their kids a
failure? That I'M a failure? Who's dressing this place up to impress
those walking, talking wallets? Oops, I mean parents. And you want to
call me dramatic, ignorant, and manipulative? You best step off your
high and mighty pedestal and take a step back. This is between me and
my folks. You're only involved now because of the paycheck you get out
of it. I feel like this place hurts more than it can ever heal. I wish I
could communicate with my parents without a third party having to
comment on and psychoanalyze everything that is said between us. I wish
I could just be home, and far away from hypocrites, and tears, and
uniforms, and all of it. There's so much I wish I could tell my
parents. I wish I knew how they really felt. Their real thoughts,
before they become brainwashed and corrupted like all of the other
program parents and teenagers tossed into this program. Have I not been
real this entire time? I've told my parents everything I could
possibly think of. Honesty is the key, right? I've sent them my
journal entries for God's sake. IM REAL! Nobody is going to sit there
and tell me who they think I am, who they think my parents are and how
my life is best run. But I guess I don't have a choice. At least not
for another 7 months. No choice. It's a scary concept. Ive realized
that this place is run by fear. They scare people into believing they
have to be perfect or you'll suffer the consequences greatly. Such
small things like looking out of line, or humming a song and -WHAM- a
whole days worth of points gone. They teach us if we go home, and we
mess up just once, then we're failures. I feel like my life has just
become some huge game. That the only important thing in my life now is
to be here at Casa. That everything back home comes second. I worked
so hard back home. Maybe not as hard as I should have with my family,
but I did still work. I worked for so long to get my senior year with
first period off. All the extra 6 and a half period classes and summer
school I took for it. I worked for a babysitting job, and a short
pain-in-the-ass waitressing job serving ungrateful old farts all day. I
DID work, so I DO NOT put Casa in a category that is more important
than my life back home. I put a relationship with my family first, but
as far as I'm concerned, that doesn't have to involve Casa at all. God,
I miss home so much. I hate that my parents are putting all of this
stress on them and me both. I often ask myself what exactly are my
parents waiting for? Do they even know? Or have they gotten so caught
up in this program that they've forgotten their purpose of even sending
me here? Are they expecting more than what I've already sacrificed so
much to offer them? When I go home, I'm not going to be perfect. I
will fall. I will make mistakes. Probably several. That's the point
of life. It's not how many times you fall, it's how many times you pick
yourself back up. Life is one huge rollercoaster with several
different ups and downs, but we hope that eventually we'll hit an
elevated level. A calmness. A serenity. I was at a dip before I got
here. Not necessarily a big dip that was dooming me for life, but a
struggle. In the nine weeks here I've lifted myself out of that dip.
Am I a failure? No. I AM NOT A FAILURE. And nobody here is going to
make me feel like I am one any longer, because I know I'm not. I never
have been and never will be one. I would never let myself fall into
that same cycle that got me here. That's stupid. I'm not some little
retarded chihuahua that needs to be trained over and over again not to
piss on the carpet. I can, and have already, learned from this
experience. I worked too hard to be considered a failure. JESUS
CHRIST! I just want to get out of here! I think I know of every single
drug, how you take it, the nicknames and slang for each, and about
every type of sexual position there is. And let me tell you, some of
them sound painful. Anyway, I have a headache, and my throat hurts from
holding back the tears. I need some time alone... like I'll actually
get any besides my spare seconds on the can.... time for shutdown.
Outgoing Letter
(Mid-December 2002)
Mom and Dad,
I'm going to try to be as blunt honest
as I can, because I feel that that is the only way to communicate with
you. Please try to be as open as possible to what I have to say. I'm
not in denial about anything, Im not trying to deceive you into
believing anything thats not true, or manipulate you into thinking a
certain way. I am not stupid, naive, ignorant or unaware of my
surroundings, my situation or myself. Im not throwing any guilt trips
or playing any "poor pity me" acts. And im not pissing and moaning
about things needn't be pissed and moaned about. Im getting this out
now so that we both have a clear understanding of one another.
I honestly believe that I don't
belong here. Actually, I know that I don't. Its been almost two and
half months, mom, and my feelings about this place havent changed one
bit. They've fluctuated a bit depending on my struggles, but overall, I
feel exactly the same as I did 3, 4, even 8 weeks ago. Its not that I
haven't gotten anywhere or learned anything, because I have. A lot.
But its not because of this program. Its because of myself, and what
I'VE experience, and what I'VE realized, and where I'VE managed to turn
my life. And it has to do with the stressful and painful situation I've
been under while in the program, but the change itself is in no way
related to this program. Honestly, I didnt learn anything in Discovery
that I hadn't already learned myself. It merely reinstated what I
already believed to be true. I was so happy and "high" when I left, not
because I was so much more "enlightened" or "changed" in any way, but
because I was one step closer to being home. I was so happy that it was
all over with, that I wouldnt have to deal with the nervousness and the
humiliation until the next seminar rolled around. I wasn't fake, and
Im not "faking it to make it" as its called, like what most people do to
get by. Im real, and was real the entire time in that seminar. The
emotions, the stories were all real and really felt, but they were all
old stories and old emotions that I've already shared and dealt with and
put behind me now since I started to open up to you. I feel so far
ahead of everything in this program. Im not "special casing" myself,
its just the truth. Im not going to sit here and act like this place
isn't going to help and blah blah blah. But you have to consider the
other options available. You really don't see what goes on behind these
walls. You really dont know how I feel and what has happened and how
I've changed. You're just a third party watching it from the outside
and from a great distance. The levels and points are just a format for
helping people proceed through certain "steps.” This program is just a
format, mom. Its a suggestion of a process and pace for people who
might need it to change. But not everybody needs the same format. It's
different for each different person. Insight is personal. Change is
personal. Our situation is personal. Its unlike anybody elses here at
the program. And because some girl had similar "defiant" issues like
me, and because she graduated and got this amount of points in this
amount of time, it doesn't mean that I have to also. I'm not her and
she's not me. She lead her own life and did her own thing. And even
though we may seem similar, the process and time it takes to grow out of
our similarities are completely different. I may not need to be here
as long as her, or somebody else who's "behavior was similar" to mine.
Just as some girls here who were major potheads back home don't need to
be here as long as I have. Its all personal. It all depends on the
individual. I dont like being compared. I get frustrated sometimes
because I reread every letter in chronological order every time I get a
new one. And I noticed that the letter I got recently was almost
identical to one's I got close to 2 months ago. I feel like 2 months
have gone by and you still feel I havent moved. That I still need to be
told the same thing over and over again. You say I don't "get it".
Trust me, mom, I get it. But what you want me to "get" is not what I
can give you. You want me to "get" that this is our only option. You
want me to "get" to learn to accept this place. You want me to "get"
to go with the flow and not feel so resistant to this place and not
focus on my home life. You want me to "get" to feel the same way about
this place as you do. But Im sorry, that wont ever happen. And I'm
afraid its you whos not "getting" me. I know this is hard for you,
mom. I dont want to know that youre a hundred miles away and crying for
me. Because I don't deserve your sympathy at all. You've been too
good to me, and all I gave you in return was grief. And now it seems
like even when you don't need to feel pain because of me anymore, you
still are, and it makes me feel like Im the worst daughter in the world
that Im doing that to you. I don't want to hurt you, probably more than
I dont want to hurt myself. And I've wondered, several times, why has
this pain between us been dragged out for this long already? Dont you
feel we've gotten anywhere? I feel like we've come so far. I just want
to get out of this box. And im so confused why you're doing this, not
just to me, but yourself? You don't deserve the plateful of crap you've
been handed your whole life. And Im sorry that I've helped to dish
that crap on. I just want to get how I feel finally all out in the
open. I dont mean to come off as upset or angry at you, because Im
not. Im just really confused and frustrated in general as to how my
life has amounted to this.
You want me to write you about
how we can make our relationship better. That decision was out of my
hands when you decided to send me here. You asked me how many times have
I talked to my friends and their mothers and have just wanted things to
change without any changes actually happening. But that's the first
step mom: admitting you have a problem and crying out for help. It was
far from easy to open myself up to my friends and their parents about
my feelings about my own personal family life. But I did because I just
wanted things to change. And now I've been desperately working for
those changes. I havent just been sitting here for the past months and
just "hoping" and "wanting" some better relationship. Ive been working
for one. I've written you letter after letter to you. I've opened up
and been real. I've shared with you the most personal things about me.
The secret to improving our relationship isn't "where do we go from
this point." It's "what have we done to get to the point that we
have?" The improvement has already started, long ago, before I even
came here. And no, mom, its not "only the beginning". That's the mind
frame you've put youself in. You or someone else for some reason has
caused you to believe that.
What was wrong with our
relationship was the controlling issue. Both sides wanted to be in
control. You wanted to control me so I rebelled. I wanted to be in
control, so I faught. Relationships aren't about whos in control. Even
parent/child relationship. Theyre about structure and respect. There
needs to be some kind of structure built between us, but that ultimately
takes respecting one another. And it takes EFFORT to build respect -
not time - and thats where you get confused. Because all this place has
to offer is time, effort comes from within. I feel like you're
dwelling on the past. You keep saying how bad things were instead of
acknowledging how good things have gotten. I can't erase the past,
mom. What's done is done, and there's nothing I can do or say that can
make it all disappear. Its almost as if you're forcing yourself to
believe I need this. It's like you believe the longer I stay here, the
more the things from the past will be erased, but it doesn't work like
that. It's not time - it's effort. And I've been trying so hard, mom.
Anger is just a secondary emotion. It's a cover up for hurt and pain.
I wasn't angry because I hated anyone or I was trying to push anybody
out of my life. I was angry because inside I felt empty and alone. And
right now I feel even more empty and alone. I feel like some scared
five- year-old who just needs a hug. And this hole started to fill when
I found people who genuinely cared about me, but I was still hurt
because of the family support I lacked that so many others around me
had. It hurt to hear my own parents threaten "Do you want to end up
like Carly?!" And it hurt that I was so unwanted that nobody wanted to
be me or be around me. And I started to feel like some hopeless screw
up whos own family didnt want her, let alone society. So it made me
second guess my real friends for so long. And just as things looked
somewhat hopeful - I get slammed in some lockdown bootcamp gone wrong.
This rehab/prison that ripped away any shred of confidence or securities
that I might have had. And I'm forced to remind myself to smile for
the seminar facilitators, and smile for Violeta and play the "cards
right" while people pat me on the head and call me a good little girl.
But inside im just some scared dog with its tail between its legs. All I
need are my friends and family back. I just need to be held and told
that somebody, ANYBODY, loves me... and not just through black ink. I
love you both and I never meant to be angry at you. I hate what my life
has become, and what I've become here.
I've found that it's not even
the big things about this place that make me hate it, but the little
things. Like not being able to watch the movie on sunday with everybody
else because the mama made me stay in the house and crawl on my hands
and knees and pick up every snot rag, every string of hair, and every
piece of dirt off the floor because no one else would. Or being put on
the sitting list and having my privileges taken away for two weeks
because I dont "open up" to the the people here. How do I open up to
these people, mom? They're nothing like me and some of them are just
plain mean. And its other things too - like laundry losing all of my
socks and underwear except for a pair of both and both of my towels.
It's not having the freedom of speech and not showering for 4 days
straight. Its having to have your bowel movements checked every time I
use the bathroom, or having no warm water, or a soft bed, or any
privacy. It's the entire facility breaking out with diarrhea from
spoiled food. It's having to clean out shit encrusted toilet paper out
of the trashcans with my bare hands because we're not allowed to flush
it down the toilet, wearing the same shirt I dry myself off with because
I don't have any towels left because laundry loses it. It's having to
wear the same mold covered, shit stained shirt to seminars because they
wont give me a new shirt or wash it beforehand. Its the small things
that drive a person mad, mom, you dont understand. I cant live like
this anymore. I know its not healthy. This place strips away your
freedoms, your happiness, your pride, your friends and family, your
accomplishments, and everything you've worked for. It leaves you stark
naked and uncomfortably vulnerable. It leaves you with your raw
insecurities and absolutely nothing of your life except for your
thoughts, which race across your mind a mile a minute like flies in a
shithouse. All that's left are the haunting memories and your sanity.
And even then that slowly deteriorates as they brutally smack you
mentally and emotionally with all of the rules and restrictions and
commands, and restraints, and constant speeches of how you've failed at
absolutely everything in your life. And its so scary, mom. You'll
never know. Its like standing in a crowded room and all you can hear is
this voice in the back of your head, and this ticking sound as each
second passes... just waiting for something to happen. And everyone
else is just standing around you, waiting. And this silence is
deafening. I've never felt this much fear in my entire life. I've
never woken up every morning and wanted to claw off my skin and escape
from this demented twilight zone world. I've never had to fear whether
or not I would survive the next day without slowly slipping into
madness, or losing myself, as this place morphs me into something I'm
not. I dont know where the loud, carefree, humorous Carly went. I've
forgotten what Its like to be her. I've forgotten what its like to be
happy. It's like this place is slowly turning me cold and bitter.
Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to accept if I knew I belonged here, but I
don't, mom. I don't belong here. I know it. I feel it in my heart -
screaming from inside and forcing itself through my skin. This isn't
right. It isn't worth it. These sacrifices aren't worth it. The
"brighter" future that you see for me mom? It isn't worth this pain
that I feel day in and day out. Because I know in my heart that I have
just as bright of a future from this point on at home, than if I pissed
my life away in this hell hole. Even after discovery. Actually,
especially after discovery. It made me believe even more that I should
have been home by now. What they helped me to "discover" about myself
was that what others have told me in the past made me turn my anger
towards the wrong people. Well, duh. And my parents are paying you how
much to tell me all of this? But I didnt say anything. I just nodded
and smiled and let them believe they "enlightened" me. I wasnt about to
get kicked out of the seminar by speaking up. I had come too far for
that. Im angry that things turned out like this. I was afraid to tell
you all of this because I was scared you would shake your head in shame
and write another letter saying how im not "getting" it, or have Violeta
tell you I need another commitment letter for a kick in the butt. I
was afraid you'd think I was some failure because I think and feel this
way. But the truth is, mom, that I'm far from a failure BECAUSE of the
fact that I think and feel this way. That I'm speaking up and not
letting some program in Mexico make me believe that I'm some failure and
disgrace to this world if I don't give them exactly what they expect.
This whole thing is creating even more unnecessary pain and drama. And
it's all too ironic that we're fighting the drama we had back home with a
whole new set of drama. It's like fighting fire with fire, and it's
getting too confusing and overwhelming for me. I've just barely managed
to pull myself through for this long. It's like I'm hanging onto a
cobweb string of sanity. And sometimes I wonder why I even try so
hard. Why do I even put all of this effort into graduating the
seminars, earning the points, not getting any consequences, and putting
up with all of this crap? Why do I bother to push myself so hard, when,
no matter how hard I push, it's never going to be good enough? No
matter how much things improved between us, things will always have to
improve more in order for me to go home and live my life. And I know
that the points and levels dont even mean anything to you, but that all
you want are for things to work out. But I feel like my change is only
apparent or acknowledged if it's backed up by seminars or levels or a
program's word or something else mechanic like that. And I feel like
you pass up everything that I have worked my butt off for to offer you.
I feel like I've been put through so much pain - that you couldn't even
begin to imagine - and it's like my word means absolutely nothing to
you. It's like the secondary sources around me - like the program's
word, or your friends' word - mean more to you than anything I have told
you, or any changes I have made. And you're probably thinking "well
that's because they've never lied to me, or deceived me, or treated me
like you have in the past." Or somethting along that pointing-the-finger
line. But mom - if after everything I've told you, and after all of
the time that has passed, and you still haven't grown even the slightest
bit of trust with me, then when will you EVER trust me? It's like
you're setting yourself up for failure. And please dont say "I'll trust
you if you graduate" because I think we both know that that is a crock
of bullshit. Programs don't "build" trust, people do. And I fear that
you want time to back up my words due to your insecurities in trusting
me, which means me sacrificing more of my life in a program. And I
don't know why this isn't good enough. I don't know why you refuse to
spare both of us all of this unwanted hurt and drama. I don't know why
this had to be a hundred times harder that it should be. I don't get
why I have to see all of these other girls around me getting pulled and
going home and I'm one of the few "bad ones" left behind who's family
doesn't mind too much if I'm not home for Christmas. Or if Im not home
at all. And I wake up every morning and march through the facility
recognizing fewer and fewer faces. And I walk past vacant bunk beds,
and I ask myself "what have those girls done so much better than me?
Why do they deserve going home and spending time with their families and
not me? Why am I not good enough?" And its so hard to wake up every
day and watch all of this happen around me and know that I will fall
asleep again tonight in this same bed, and I will wake up again facing
another day here, as time slips further and further away from when I was
once home, as I am erased completely from peoples lives and replaced
instead by memories. And its confusing sometimes because I feel that I
deserve it more than those other girls who have gone home and those
girls who are left who are going to go home and dont know it yet. And I
find myself becoming jealous of everyone because it could be any one of
these faces whos empty beds and baskets I will be walking by the next
day. Its so hard mom, and you will never understand this feeling.
You'll never know what its like to see the Christmas lights on the hill
in the distance and become hypnotized as you fall into a memory from the
past, and your cheeks are soaked from tears you didn't even know you
were crying. You'll never know what its like to want something so
BADLY, and it's the furthest thing away from you. You'll never know
what its like to pray to God that just ONE car might drive by today with
its stereo loud enough so you could feel just one moment of the music
and bass flow through your blood, even if it's faint. You'll never know
what its like to eat your toothpaste because you want so badly to
remember the taste of something sweet on your tongue. You'll never know
what its like to despise a single, solitary Christmas tree that stands
in the middle of a facility that you can't escape from, not even in your
dreams. Youll never know the feeling of that tree taunting you, with
its bright blinking lights as it reminds you in one glimpse of
everything that you dont have. You'll never know, mom. Never. And be
grateful that you wont ever have to. You can sit there and say that
this isn't a punishment, but it is, mom, and that's all it will ever be
viewed as to me. This program has taught me absolutely nothing. The
time away from home has been the greatest learning experience more than
anything. And I feel like time is just wasting now. It's not that I've
"learned so much" and I'm "enlightened" now like what you have mocked
me with in your previous letters... but rather that there is nothing
left to "absorb" here at casa. But outside, who knows what else there
is to learn. Does that make sense? Sometimes I want to just straight
out ask you "why are you doing this to me?" But I dont because all I'll
get in return is another letter telling me how this isn't a punishment
but some great learning experience, and then you'll remind me of how im
not "getting" it and you'll tell me of all the things I've done in the
past to get me here. Yeah mom... some great learning experience. It
isn't worth it. None of it. For me or for you. Why have you not
realized it yet? I hate all of this. Its all gotten so dramatic and
way out of hand. I love you all so much, and I feel selfish for
focusing everything on me sometimes. But I just want all of this hurt
and anguish to go away. I dont want to have to wake up tomorrow in that
bed in this program wearing those uniforms. Im tired of this place
being one huge game show of which girl is next in the family to get
pulled, and the losers who are left behind. I miss you and love you so
much - you'll never understand how much. Im not just being a drama
queen for the fun of it, mom. This is all real. Just remember that I
love you so much... because that feeling is the only thing that pulls me
through all of this. I love you.... Carly
PS: Merry Christmas
R.I.P. all of those who didn't survive these programs. You're gone but not forgotten.
Below is a list of children who died
while in these types of programs. Please keep in mind this is just a list of
deaths WITHIN THE UNITED STATES that we're aware of. Many of these
programs operate outside of U.S. territory, and many deaths are not made
public.
Travis Parker
13 years old
Appalachian Wilderness Camp
Restrained l l/2 hours. Denied request for asthma med
Lorenzo Johnson
17 years old
6/27/94
Arizona Boys Ranch
Drowned while trying to escape
Nicholaus Contreras
16 years old 3/2/98
Arizona Boys Ranch
Prolonged and serious medical neglect and openly abusive treatment per investigative summary
Dawn Renay Perry
16 years old
4/10/93
Behavior Training Research
Restraint
Anthony Green
15 years old
5/21/91
Brookhaven Youth Ranch
Restrained face down for 15 minutes Asphyxiation
Corey Baines
16 years old 3/26/03
Catherine Freer Wilderness Expeditions
Tree limb fell on tent while he was sleeping
Erica Harvey
15 years old
5/27/2002
Catherine Freer Wilderness Program
Hypothermia with dehydration
Kristen Chase
16 years old
6/27/90
Challenger Foundation
Heatstroke
Tristan Sovern
16 years old
4/19/98
Charter Behavioral Health
Asphyxiation during restraint
Earl Smith
9 years old
1/11/95
Children's Village
Asphyxiation due to chest compression during restraint
Casey Collier
17 years old
12/93
Cleo Wallace Center
Restraint Asphyxia
Jeffery Demetrius
17 years old
8/26/97
Crockett State School
Strangulation while in restraint hold
Charles Collins, Jr.
15 years old
Crossroads for Youth
Jimmy Kanda
16 years old
9/20/97
Crow's Nest Family Care
Strangulation while in restraint hold 911 had to talk staff thru CPR
Latasha Bush
15 years old
2/14/2002
Daystar Residential Treatment Center
Complications of mechanical asphyxia Restraint
Edith Campos
15 years old
2/4/98
Desert Hills
Restraint Asphyxia
Robert Rollins
12 years old
4/21/97
Devereaux School
Asphyxiation while restrained after a dispute about his teddy bear
Michael Ibarra-Wiltsie
12 years old 2/5/2000
Eckert Youth Alternatives
Asphyxia -- Restraint sat on by 320 pound counselor
Andrew McClain
11 years old
3/22/98
Elmcrest Psychiatric Hospital
Traumatic asphyxia and chest compression Restraint
Candace Newmaker
10 years old
4/18/2000
Evergreen Attachment Center
Rebirthing
Roxanna Gray
17 years old
7/6/89
Family and Children's Center
Restrained Face Down on a Pillow Suffocation
Sakena Dorsey
19 years old
6/10/97
Foundation Behavioral
Suffocation during face down restraint with staff member laying across her back...history of asthma
Chris Campbell
13 years old
11/2/97
Iowa Juvenile Home
Restrained 4 times in her last 24 hours....Cause of Death undetermined
Jason Tallman
12 years old
5/12/93
KidsPeace
Restrained Face down on pillow
Suffocation
Mark Draheim
14 years old
12/98
KidsPeace
Asphyxiation while being forcibly restrained by 3 staff
Maria Mendoza
14 years old
10/12/2002
Krause Children's Center
Restraint
Randy Steele
9 years old
2/6/2000
Laurel Ridge
Restraint...in the scuffle he vomited then stopped breathing. After reviving he was transferred to a hospital where he died the next day. Had been restrained 25 times in 28 days prior to death.
Rochelle Clayborne
16 years old
8/18/97
Laurel Ridge
Pinned down by aids and given tranquilizer cardiac arrhythmia
Wauketta Wallace
12 years old
7/11/89
Marysville Academy
Postural asphyxia and stress due to restraint
Cedric Napoleaon
14 years old
3/7/2002
Mason Middle School
Restraint
Will Futrelle
15 years old
3/25/96
Mountain Park Baptist Academy
Murdered by other students
Kristal Mayon-Cenceros
16 years old
2/5/99
New Alternatives
Restrained face down by 4 staff
Shinaul McGraw
12 years old
6/5/97
New Directions 2nd Chance
Hyperthermia after restraint in a bed wrapped in a bed sheet with gauze over mouth
Jeffrey Bogrett
9 years old
12/1/95
New England Center for Autism
Sudden Death during Restraint
Jerry McLaurin
14 years old 11/2/99
New Horizons Ranch
Restraint
Sabrina E. Day
15 years old
2/10/2000
North Carolina Group Home
Restraint
Aaron Wright Bacon
16 years old
3/31/94
Northstar Expeditions Wilderness Program
Untreated Peritonitis *
Bobby Sue Thomas
17 years old
8/16/96
Northwood Childrens Home
Acute cardiac arrhythmia while restrained
William "Eddie" Lee
15 years old
9/18/2000
Obsidian Trails Wilderness Camp
Injury to Vertebral Artery at base of skull after being restrained by counselors
Eric Roberts
16 years old
2/22/96
Odyssey Harbor
Wrapped in plastic foam blanket for one hour stopped breathing due to pressure on chest according to autopsy
Charles "Chase" Moody
17 years old
10/14/02
On Track Wilderness Therapy
The Brown School (CEDU affiliated)
Asphyxiation by restraint
Gina Score
14 years old
1990
Plankinton Boot Camp
Collapsed (hyperthermia), left out in sun for 3 hours....internal temp at least 108
Chad Andrew Frenza
16 years old
Polk County Boot Camp
Melissa Neyman
19 years old
7/24/97
(Judith Young Adult Family Home (private group home in Washington) Climbed out a window and became entangled in straps of restraint. Had been dead 6 hours before workers noticed her hanging from window.
Bobby Jo Randolf
17 years old
9/26/96
Progressive Youth Center
Asphyxia due to pressure on neck by 2 staff
Jamie Young
13 years old
Ramsey Canyon
Heatstroke dehydration
Katherine Lank
16 years old
1/13/2002
Red Rock Ranch Academy
Slipped and fell down crevice while hiking, suffered massive head trauma, died 3 weeks later.
Paul Choy
16 years old
1992
Rites of Passage
Restraint
Chris Brown
16 years old
3/7/98
Robert Land Academy
Matt Toppi
17 years old
3/7/98
Robert Land Academy
John Avila
Age unknown
7/25/94
Rocky Mountain Academy
Diane Harris
17 years old
4/11/90
Sequin Community Living Center
Violently Restrained
Stephanie Duffield
16 years old
2/11/01
Shiloh Residential Treatment Center
Restraint
Ian August
14 years old
7/13/2002
Skyline Journey
Hyperthermia Hiking
Willie Wright
9 years old
2/4/2000
Southwest Mental Health
Stopped breathing while in restraint
Christy Scheck
13 years old
3/6/92
Southwood Psychiatric Hospital
Hung herself while on suicide watch
Joshua Ferarini
13 years old
1/8/89
St. Aemelian Hospital
Facedown restraint, suffocation
Michelle Lynn Sutton
15 years old
5/9/90
Summit Quest
Dehydration
Bryan Dale Alexander
18 years old
Texas Correctional Services
Pneumonia
Brandon Haden
18 years old
1998
Texas Neurological Rehab. Center
Roberto Reyes
15 years old
11/3/04
Thayer Learning Center
Probable spider bite and lack of medical care
Laura Hanson
17 years old
11/19/98
Unknown
Carlos Ruiz
13 years old
12/16/94
Vision Quest
Charles Lucas
16 years old
11/24/80
Vision Quest
Drowning
Danny Lewis
16 years old
6/89
Vision Quest
Dawnne Takeuchi
18 years old
6/25/95
Vision Quest
Eric David Schibley
17 years old 11/24/80
Vision Quest
Drowning
James Lamb
14 years old
11/24/80
Vision Quest
Drowning
Leon Anger
Age unknown 9/16/84
Vision Quest
Robert Zimmerman
17 years old
11/24/80
Vision Quest
Drowning
Tammy Edmiston
Age Unknown
9/11/82
Vision Quest
Bernard Reefer
Unsure
VisionQuest
John Vincent Garrison
18 years old
VisionQuest
Lyle Foodroy
Age unknown
VisionQuest
Drowning; boat capsized off Baha during storm
Mario Cano
16 years old
VisionQuest
Blood clot while doing calisthenics
Robert Doyle Erwin
15 years old
VisionQuest
Drowning
Mark Soares
16 years old
4/29/98
Wayside Union Academy
Cardiac arrest from physical restraint
Leroy Prinkley
14 years old 9/28/88
Western Center
Cerebral anoxia caused by heart and lung failure due to forceful restraint
Joshua Sharpe
17 years old 12/28/99
Wisconsin Treatment Center
Restraint
Christopher Landre
16 years old
6/12/97
WWASP - Paradise Cove
Suicide
Corey William Murphy
17 years old
3/21/2000
WWASP - Spring Creek Lodge
Suicide
Karlye Newman
16 years old 10/8/2004
WWASP - Spring Creek Lodge Academy
Suicide by hanging (read article)
Valerie Ann Heron
17 years old
8/10/2001
WWASP - Tranquility Bay
Jumped to death; question if suicide
Thomas Mapes
17 years old
7/8/94
Youth Center of Topeka
Asphyxiation; handcuffed, pushed face down on floor
Below is a list of the unfortunate outcome for some other students from similar facilities. (Also keep in mind almost all of these facilities are run FOR PROFIT under an umbrella corporation using different names, but owned by the same people.)
Valerie Heron, Tranquility Bay, suicide
Ryan Grasso, death at home 12/12/05
Corey Murphy, suicide after Paradise Cove
Chris Sutton, on trial for hiring hitman to murder parents (mom killed, dad left blind from gunshot injuries)
Young female(name unknow), hung herself at SCL
Christopher Landre, suicide after Paradise Cove
Randi Koetz, suicide after Casa by the Sea 4/10/05
Bryan Richardson, murdered by brother after Casa by the Sea 2/27/05
Robert Carter Evans, suicide 4/10/05
Leslie Carter, overdose (sister of Backstreet Boys' Nick Carter, as well as pop artist Aaron Carter) in 2012. Previously attended Cross Creek.
Michael "Romeo" Perry, committed murder (executed in Texas in 2010). He stated, "The conditions for me on death row are better than [those] at Casa by the Sea."
Anybody with questions, comments, or concerns may contact me at: carcar716@gmail.com. I am happy to answer all inquiries.
