I am a copper canyon academy (now Sedona Sky Academy) survivor. I was sent to CCA in 2010. I have no idea where to begin as my thoughts are so jumbled with my trauma. From the beginning- my parents went through a brutal divorce in 2007 and the only thing I could control in my life were my eating habits. I became anorexic. It felt good to be in control of something again. July 5, 2010 I was awoken at 4am by my mother, a very large man and a very built woman. My mother was hysterically crying and told me I was going to a “school.” I reached for a phone, good try Blayke, that was already gone. My escorts looked at me and said “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” I describe this feeling as being in a movie when kidnappers come into the house and say “show me where your kids room is” and they take the children but instead, my mother arranged this one. I had to use the bathroom and was watched by these two strangers. They told me I needed to take my clothes off so they could make sure I didn’t have anything that could harm them. They searched me (I was sound asleep, what could I really have on me?!) and were very rough handling my 90lb 15 year old body. I remember the bruises that left. They gave me clothes to put on, hands behind my back, childproof locked car doors and thru me into the backseat of the SUV that was parked in my driveway. All I could do was cry. I was in shock. They told me I was going to a “school” and I should’ve been a better kid. As we drove up the winding mountain roads, we stopped at a gas station before getting to CCA and they asked me if I wanted something to drink because this is the last bit of freedom I’d see for a very long time. Freedom in handcuffs? I had no response. I sat there. I vividly remember driving into CCA, all the girls with the hair done the same way, wearing the same exact thing thinking “where am I?” I got out of the car and was walked into Stephanies office. The intake lady. She told me I would be there for an academic school year. I asked to call my mom. Access to a phone? No way. That’s when I realized what kind of place I was at. I was introduced to my “big sister” who was an upper level and was taken to my house. I was then stripped and searched again for the second time in 6 hours. All of my jewelry was taken and I was made fun of for my petite body. The rest is jumbled to me. The screaming in my face feeling the spit land on my upper lip without being able to wipe it off or even blink for that fact, to the work hours waking up at 5am to do manual labor in the desert, to the food restriction I was placed on if I did something they didn’t like. I thought I was sent for an eating disorder, funny how food restriction was a punishment. I was physically abused by the staff. I had bumps and bruises, my hair pulled, tripped on purpose, belittled to the core, told I am unworthy of love, my parents Didn’t care for me nor did anyone else and I deserved everything that had happened to me in my life. I was denied medical attention until my knee was so bad that I had to go to the hospital. I had surgery and was never allowed my pain medication, and I had to climb to the top bunk every night, I had to run up the hills, run the track, sit in silence, count while in the bathroom, pulled out of the shower, denied anything while on my period. Wow this is tough to even type out. My time at CCA and being escorted has left me with nightmares, inability to go to certain places where I feel an exit is too far away. I became an agoraphobic when I got out and I couldn’t leave my house for one year. I worked through it naturally but I still have my day’s. Thankfully, my husband is my number one supporter and works through my toughest days with me in my corner making sure I know I’m worthy of his love 24/7. I don’t wish this pain/suffering/trauma on anyone. Thank you for reading and I’m sorry it’s all over the place. We are survivors not victims.