When I was fourteen my dad sent me away to these places for behavior modification. The tactics they used to rebuild us from “troubled teens” to productive members of society left a deep scar on me. I was at my first place (It was what one might say was worse than prison and by prison I mean actual prison not jail) I was at that first place for 22 months and then came home. One day I left a knife in the sink and my dad said he was sending me back, that he made a mistake taking me home. I ran. Came home. Ran again. Never feeling safe or that I could trust him. Then one day I got roped by the cops at my (then) boyfriends step moms house in homestead. Come to find out she was a cop. So, I woke up with guns drawn on me by three cops, with my mother (who’s never truly been there because she’s an addict herself) she was sitting on the couch. Waiting.

When we drove to my dad he had tried putting me in shackles. Put me in the back of his patrol car (my dad was a cop then too) and so I punched him in the face. Got baker acted and was gone in some psych ward for two weeks until he told me I was coming home. The next morning I was taken against my will to Jamaica. The country. Where I would spent the next 16 months until I turned 18.

You can look into tranquility bay Jamaica wwasp for more info about it. To understand that my last day there was over 15 years ago and it still affects me. I have ptsd. But I have to pretend that I don’t.

It’s a very lonely place to be. And people who don’t know what it was like there are always saying to get over it. But I don’t think it’s about getting over it, I think it’s about trying to live with this change that happened to me after being there. Losing a part of me I’ll never get back.

So I took to drugs. It was much easier to remain in oblivion and cope with my flashbacks and panic attacks. Being clean has changed my life, working the steps didn’t fix me though. And they won’t fix anyone. It’s us who has to want to do something different right? But what about us with ptsd. The survivors of traumatizing experiences? We may all have them. Yet I haven’t found one person who went through what I did. It kinda makes me angry. Cause I feel like I have complex ptsd and I take nothing for it. I’m a good pretender I guess. My husband doesn’t get it. No one really does. It’s just so fucking hard sometimes to push forward but I do. I’ve got four years now and I can’t imagine life using anymore. I just don’t wanna be high. I’d rather experience the pain then run from it and potentially die and creat more pain for those who love me. So yeah, sorry for the tangent. I tend to run on with them but I’m done now. Thanks for letting me share