Tales of residential treatment.
I don't know what to write, so I think I will just tell the tale of rehab.
I got there and was put in isolation (I was detoxing) a guy name Brett Draper was put in isolation two days after I was admitted, we glamourized of our old ways and made a plan to awol to san francisco and sell meth.
It was a friday morning, we got ready, lined up and we went down stairs. As soon as we got out of the door we bolted, we ran across the yard and jumped the gate (I slipped and cut my hand on the barbed wire. I have the scar to this day.) We jumped another gate across the street and into the woods, there was tons of thorn vines so we got cut up pretty bad. on the other side of the woods we waded through the bayou and ran through people's backyards. we got to this abandoned house and broke in. By the time we got in, I realized I was bleeding pretty bad, so I ripped up my shirt and wrapped my hand. we layed low but got pretty fucked up because the owners had bombed the house with roach spray. I started getting pretty light headed so we took our chances and ran out of the house and down the street. A car stopped and reversed so we bolted back to the house. When we got there, we saw that there were two neighbors walking towards the house and one had a gun, by the time they got near the house, about six staff from the rehab and two policemen arrived. By law, no one could enter the premises, so we thought we were safe, but earlier, because of the roach bombs, Brett opened a window. One of the cops peeked through the window and saw us. We gave up by then. We walked out and got harassed by the police. We were cussing, screaming, and ranting on about how the rehab treated us like shit (which infact was complete bullshit.) The cops took us back to the center. We got treated for the wounds and then had to spend a month in isolation.
I had got a busted lip about a week before I got admitted into the rehab and I started to get chapped lips. It got to the point that it hurt to open my mouth when eating. I asked for chapstick but never got any. So, one day, after really getting pissed off, I walked out of my room, starting throwing chairs and kicking sofas across the room, and picked up two leg rests and started to throw them at staff. I walked over to the door to downstairs where a staff was sitting and tried to get him to fight. He got other staff to come over there, so I ran through the hallway to the girls unit and tried to run through there door to the stairs, I got restrained by staff.
The third story is when I was at recreation time in the yard with two of my peers, jeff and jamie. From the yard we can see through the upstairs window of the girls unit. There were a few girls in isolation that were trying to get our attention. They did. We got them to flash us. They definitely put on a show (especially since I was sexually frustrated beyond belief.) during this show, a staff nearby caught on to what we were doing. He was a foreign man named Mr. Emanuel. He is easily persuaded. We explained to him that it was a natural thing and that he shouldn't worry. He kept it a secret till two days later when he felt it was a moral obligation to tell his superiors. It was a saturday, The CEO came up on the unit and called a group meeting with all the clients, we all got in a circle, and he explained the situation. We tried to defend ourselves but our stories didn't match up. I had been doing alright in the program for awhile, but that day we got dropped to uniform (a very low level in our level system.) Things were pretty calm till Jamie walked up to Mr. Emanuel and sucker punched the shit out of him. Jeff started kicking chairs. I just sat down and didn't do shit because I figured that compared to those two, I would be deemed an angel by the staff there. Jeff calmed down, but Jamie was still getting restrained, he busted the shit out Mr.Emanuel's face and also dislocated the supervisors shoulder when they were trying to restrain him.
The police came and Jamie was about to go to jail, but the rehab didn't press charges because they felt he could still turn his life around.
This story is an alright one. I had been doing real well by then. I had a high level and was about to be given the privilege to go home for a few hours every week. We were on an outing at the YMCA, and I had seen an old friend, we were joking around about running, but the joke turned serious, he got his car and pulled it around to the front entrance, I ran down the hall and out the doors, got in the car and we took off. I went to his house and then to another persons house, we watched a movie. Then we went to another friends house, I got in contact with Dac and went to his house. Dac was with his girlfriend, so we chilled. We went by the movie theatres and picked up tickets to see the midnight preview of Charlie and the chocolate factory. Then we went to a hookah bar hung out. on the way to his girlfriends house to go get drunk and then go to the movie, I asked to be dropped off at my house. I will never know why I did that, but I am grateful that I made that decision. I was dropped off and went inside, my mom started crying and hugging me. I asked her to take me back to rehab. So the owner of the rehab came to my house and picked me up. No one at the rehab believed I didn't use that night, until they got the U.A. results back.
This is the second to last story that was significant in my 9 months in rehab. It had been a few weeks since I had ran the second time and was two more weeks till I came out of isolation. I was Begging every single therapist to let me discharge unsuccessfully. They kept asking me of all the shit I've done, had I ever had remorse about it. I didn't. I truly did not have any remorse. That scared them. Alot. Infact it got to the point where therapists would take me aside and warn me that if I did not start having remorse about the stuff I had done and become humble, I would be in danger of becoming a sociopath. I remember many time threatening to hurt people if they did not let me leave. I started writing on their property and cussing out staff.
This is the last story. I had gotten on bad terms with this other client named Dustin. He started getting in my face and yelling whenever staff was not looking. He did it about three or four times. the second time he did it, I told him that his girlfriend was a bad fuck. I regret that because it caused him to keep taunting me. The fourth time he did it, I was sitting in a chair working on my chemical dependency assignments. He came up from behind me and screamed in my ear, so I turned around and stabbed him with my pencil, he swung at me and missed, I wrestled him to the ground, then staff came and separated us. I then told him that his girlfriend was still a bad fuck and that he fights like a little bitch. He tried to spit at me but the missed by far. He wasn't stabbed badly, so I just played it off as an accident.
That's all. Any other stories that I didn't tell were just because they weren't as crazy.
Those nine months was the craziest experience I had ever..well, experience.
I got there and was put in isolation (I was detoxing) a guy name Brett Draper was put in isolation two days after I was admitted, we glamourized of our old ways and made a plan to awol to san francisco and sell meth.
It was a friday morning, we got ready, lined up and we went down stairs. As soon as we got out of the door we bolted, we ran across the yard and jumped the gate (I slipped and cut my hand on the barbed wire. I have the scar to this day.) We jumped another gate across the street and into the woods, there was tons of thorn vines so we got cut up pretty bad. on the other side of the woods we waded through the bayou and ran through people's backyards. we got to this abandoned house and broke in. By the time we got in, I realized I was bleeding pretty bad, so I ripped up my shirt and wrapped my hand. we layed low but got pretty fucked up because the owners had bombed the house with roach spray. I started getting pretty light headed so we took our chances and ran out of the house and down the street. A car stopped and reversed so we bolted back to the house. When we got there, we saw that there were two neighbors walking towards the house and one had a gun, by the time they got near the house, about six staff from the rehab and two policemen arrived. By law, no one could enter the premises, so we thought we were safe, but earlier, because of the roach bombs, Brett opened a window. One of the cops peeked through the window and saw us. We gave up by then. We walked out and got harassed by the police. We were cussing, screaming, and ranting on about how the rehab treated us like shit (which infact was complete bullshit.) The cops took us back to the center. We got treated for the wounds and then had to spend a month in isolation.
I had got a busted lip about a week before I got admitted into the rehab and I started to get chapped lips. It got to the point that it hurt to open my mouth when eating. I asked for chapstick but never got any. So, one day, after really getting pissed off, I walked out of my room, starting throwing chairs and kicking sofas across the room, and picked up two leg rests and started to throw them at staff. I walked over to the door to downstairs where a staff was sitting and tried to get him to fight. He got other staff to come over there, so I ran through the hallway to the girls unit and tried to run through there door to the stairs, I got restrained by staff.
The third story is when I was at recreation time in the yard with two of my peers, jeff and jamie. From the yard we can see through the upstairs window of the girls unit. There were a few girls in isolation that were trying to get our attention. They did. We got them to flash us. They definitely put on a show (especially since I was sexually frustrated beyond belief.) during this show, a staff nearby caught on to what we were doing. He was a foreign man named Mr. Emanuel. He is easily persuaded. We explained to him that it was a natural thing and that he shouldn't worry. He kept it a secret till two days later when he felt it was a moral obligation to tell his superiors. It was a saturday, The CEO came up on the unit and called a group meeting with all the clients, we all got in a circle, and he explained the situation. We tried to defend ourselves but our stories didn't match up. I had been doing alright in the program for awhile, but that day we got dropped to uniform (a very low level in our level system.) Things were pretty calm till Jamie walked up to Mr. Emanuel and sucker punched the shit out of him. Jeff started kicking chairs. I just sat down and didn't do shit because I figured that compared to those two, I would be deemed an angel by the staff there. Jeff calmed down, but Jamie was still getting restrained, he busted the shit out Mr.Emanuel's face and also dislocated the supervisors shoulder when they were trying to restrain him.
The police came and Jamie was about to go to jail, but the rehab didn't press charges because they felt he could still turn his life around.
This story is an alright one. I had been doing real well by then. I had a high level and was about to be given the privilege to go home for a few hours every week. We were on an outing at the YMCA, and I had seen an old friend, we were joking around about running, but the joke turned serious, he got his car and pulled it around to the front entrance, I ran down the hall and out the doors, got in the car and we took off. I went to his house and then to another persons house, we watched a movie. Then we went to another friends house, I got in contact with Dac and went to his house. Dac was with his girlfriend, so we chilled. We went by the movie theatres and picked up tickets to see the midnight preview of Charlie and the chocolate factory. Then we went to a hookah bar hung out. on the way to his girlfriends house to go get drunk and then go to the movie, I asked to be dropped off at my house. I will never know why I did that, but I am grateful that I made that decision. I was dropped off and went inside, my mom started crying and hugging me. I asked her to take me back to rehab. So the owner of the rehab came to my house and picked me up. No one at the rehab believed I didn't use that night, until they got the U.A. results back.
This is the second to last story that was significant in my 9 months in rehab. It had been a few weeks since I had ran the second time and was two more weeks till I came out of isolation. I was Begging every single therapist to let me discharge unsuccessfully. They kept asking me of all the shit I've done, had I ever had remorse about it. I didn't. I truly did not have any remorse. That scared them. Alot. Infact it got to the point where therapists would take me aside and warn me that if I did not start having remorse about the stuff I had done and become humble, I would be in danger of becoming a sociopath. I remember many time threatening to hurt people if they did not let me leave. I started writing on their property and cussing out staff.
This is the last story. I had gotten on bad terms with this other client named Dustin. He started getting in my face and yelling whenever staff was not looking. He did it about three or four times. the second time he did it, I told him that his girlfriend was a bad fuck. I regret that because it caused him to keep taunting me. The fourth time he did it, I was sitting in a chair working on my chemical dependency assignments. He came up from behind me and screamed in my ear, so I turned around and stabbed him with my pencil, he swung at me and missed, I wrestled him to the ground, then staff came and separated us. I then told him that his girlfriend was still a bad fuck and that he fights like a little bitch. He tried to spit at me but the missed by far. He wasn't stabbed badly, so I just played it off as an accident.
That's all. Any other stories that I didn't tell were just because they weren't as crazy.
Those nine months was the craziest experience I had ever..well, experience.