WWASP Experience (From antiwwasp.com)

This story was originally written on a webpage called antiwwasp.com, which sadly is not online anymore. All rights and credits goes to the author Erin, who posted the original story on antiwwasp.com.

Antiwwasp.com has been relaunced as antiwwasp.us. Unfortunately without the testimonial part and as a message board only.

My parents told me that I would be home in three months to the day, landing me 4 days before my 16 birthday. For someone like me, who has never done drugs, had sex, or put a drop of alcohol in their body, a place like Ivy Ridge was a little extreme. I spent most of my time there on level one. I had no points ever.

I sincerely believe that I would have died in that program; sometimes I wish that I had. When I came home after 25 months of only being allowed to talk for a maximum of 15 minutes a day, my social skills had atrophied.While I was there, I ran into the problem that has hurt me every day, and will for the rest of my life. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and no matter how much my therapist told them that I needed help since they hadn't found good medicine for me, I was still in trouble all the time. I didn't want to be in trouble, contrary to popular belief. The thing is I never even needed to be there.One day, I decided that I should die. This was about three weeks into my stay, so I attempted suicide. They caught me, and I was sent into observational placement.

I sat on a tile floor in an under heated building in February in so far upstate New York that I could see Canada, for about a month. The thing about being so far north is this: I got so cold that it couldn't snow. All the moisture froze out of the air. I was cold all the time anyway, and there I sat. This didn’t help me. When I got up, I wanted to die. I had said that I wanted to before, but never REALLY meant it, well, I meant it, but I had never experienced pain like this before.My grandfather died while I was there. When I found out, I screamed for about an hour. I begged to talk to my parents, and they said no.

When I asked them about it later, they HAD asked to talk to me, and to have me home for the funeral, and the school had said no. they sent me to O.P. again, and I sat on the tile and cried for a week. No one cared how I felt.By far the most scarring thing that happened to me there was when my brother got married. The weekend before I was to leave for the wedding, a staff member, my family representative, told me that I would do nothing in life, and that I would ruin the wedding. She said it to me about five times before I got mad enough that I yelled back.

I yelled about all the times that I had been put down. I yelled for all the times that I had needed someone and no one was there.They came and restrained me. I was put in "intervention" which is code for observational placement. (OP sounded bad so they changed it)The staff member, who said it to me, came to see me later. They laughed and said "See? I told you. You won't do anything with your life." I wasn't the only person she had said that to. She told my parents that I was a waste of time and money. That I was useless and that it was pointless to keep me there. She said that I would never amount to anything, and that I would only take up their valuable time.My mother came to the rescue. She had, for the first time in 20 months, stood up for me, and brought me home for the wedding. It was the best thing that happened to me there.One day, I woke up in bed, and was so depressed that I couldn’t move, because it made my body hurt. I asked them to help me, and let me stay in bed for the day, or do something about this, and they proceeded to restrain me. I have never screamed so loud in my ENTIRE life. I screamed and screamed. They then walked me out holding my arms behind my back in front of all the girls in the program. I cried, and they made comments about my inability to control myself while other girls were there.

They threw me off the bed, and broke my jaw. I found that out after I got home and my mouth hurt still.There was also a time where I could not sleep. I was scared because I had nightmares about the day. Things that should not have happened at all happened more than once a day.I hated life. But what was worse was that I hated God. I cursed him daily for making me the way I am. I would try so hard to do well, and all I could do was fail. And they never let it go. I was never able to be me. All I could be was this person who eventually became me. I was withdrawn and mad all the time.I still am that way a little. Every time I think of ivy ridge, I try to imagine what it would be like if I hadn’t been there, and the only things that come to mind are these:

1. I would have graduated in time to go to school with my friends
2. I would have a semi-normal life and personality
3. My sister and I would have a relationship that wasn't based on her anger that I left her.
4. I could have gone to the music conservatory and done nothing but play the flute. Unlike now, where I rarely play and every time I do, I cry because all my talent is gone.
5. I would have gotten to say goodbye to my grandfather.
6. I would have seen my sister and brother graduate.
7. Most importantly, I wouldn't be so socially retarded.

I have had more trouble since I left the program then I had when I went in. I have been in inpatient once and in therapy once a week for more than a year and a half.Some girls do well, and it always seems like they are the same.

There are addicts and alcoholics who everyone feels sorry for in the beginning and they get their start there. It is never the girl who comes in for small problems and makes good. All they care about are people with big problems. They didn't care about me and bipolar disorder. They didn't care that I was dying.I sincerely believe that my spirit died while I was there. All the things that were fun and good about me disappeared along with the bad. Now I am just a ghost. I walk through the days, and nothing is accomplished. All that I feel is terrible. I get depressed, and every time I do, it seems like I have been thinking of that place.I gained so much weight that when I got home I was at risk for diabetes. I was obese. And that isn't just a statement coming from me; it is on my doctor’s record.

I left at 110 pounds - 4'11", I came back at 189 and 4'11".

There are some things that happened to me there that I do not feel comfortable sharing. They are so terrible that I cannot even think about them. All I have is the time before the program and the time after. It is like there is a black hole in the middle of my life, and it hasn't only sucked time. It sucked my personality. I am gone.

Academy at Ivy Ridge closed in 2009. The Campus was sold twice. Some years earlier they were involved in a case where the state of New York fined them because they issued high school diplomas which were not of a standard the state demanded.

References:
Datasheet about the boarding school from Secret Prisons for Teens
The original story (Cached version of antiwwasp.com - may take a while to load)

Hidden - book by Tomas Mournian

A new book called "Hidden" has entered the market. It is about 15-year-old Ahmed who reveals to his parents what kind of gender he wants the love of his life to be.

As result they take him to a rehab facility in Nevada. He escapes that makes it to San Francisco where he continue to live hiding for his parents and the authorities.

The book follows him and how he deals with his new life.

Rachel Cohn, New York Times bestselling author wrote: "This fresh and original novel defies easy labels. It's knowing yet vulnerable, observant yet naive--a wholly unique and compelling read."

Publisher: Kensington
Release date: January 25, 2011
ISBN-10: 0758251319

Josh's WWASP Article (From antiwwasp.com)

This story was originally written on a webpage called antiwwasp.com, which sadly is not online anymore. All rights and credits goes to the author Josh, who posted the original story on antiwwasp.com.

Antiwwasp.com has been relaunced as antiwwasp.us. Unfortunately without the testimonial part and as a message board only.

Much like a war, or a tragic event, I look back at Spring Creek Lodge Academy. Like a bad dream or chill of fear down my spine, I remember. No matter how hard I try, forgetting that two years of my life is not possible.

I was fourteen and I, one of few, gave my consent to go to Spring Creek Lodge. At the time, I just wanted to leave home; I could not imagine a place that could have been worse. I was wrong, and I soon learned that. My dad told me three months; he was wrong, and I soon learned that. I was one of the youngest ones there, and got picked on, of course. Being picked on at Spring Creek equated into a loss of points, which led to more time there. Soon I got into some trouble, and was sitting in my small booth staring at the wall, when my family representative told me that my parents had already signed a twelve-month contract. Having been the day after my fifteenth birthday, I felt hopeless. A year later I would find that it was a lie; however, I would not leave until I graduated from Spring Creek Lodge.

I went crazy, I wanted out. Helpless, hopeless, and alone I decided to wait until I was eighteen. I went to “the hobbit.” It was a small building with urine and feces on the walls, floors, and bunks. It smelled of bleach in a sad attempt to clean the repulsive mess. The other two rooms were full of other kids that were being unruly. I sat quietly until about four of them came into my room. They brought pillowcase that had knots tied in the ends of them, there was no hesitation to hit me with them. I heard the staff in the background “ hey guys knock it off,” when they finally did, everything hurt; I was bruised and weak. Next time just one of them came in. He told me to get on my knees in front of him. I said “no,” at seventeen he easily over powered me. He pulled me off of the top bunk, and hit me until I was on my knees in front of him, then he unzipped his pants called me many names and punched me in the face. It happened again with another guy. I left the next morning bruised dirty, and beaten. I would be made fun of for that night the rest of my program, mostly by the staff. My parents were never told, until I had to eight months later.

It was just a sign as to what was to come. I soon realized I would rather die than stay at Spring Creek. Of course, they stopped me; however a year later, one girl would succeed and hang herself by her own belt.

We were encouraged to share about our life and problems. They said it was safe and confidential. I did share, and was criticized by the staff that ran the place. I shared about having been molested when I was younger. I had been molested physically; now, Spring Creek was molesting me mentally. The only way-out, it seemed was to turn eighteen, or to be sent away to Tranquility Bay, Jamaica. They told me that they would beat me, and I would never get out, I will never know.

It was time to try “working the program.” To do this, you had to turn on the same people that were in the same boat as you. I did. Being assaulted became a daily occurrence. I tried to find balance. It was up and down for many more months, the hardships got harder, and the day came when I was seventeen years old, that I would leave Spring Creek Lodge.

It left me in pain. While I was there, I developed the most alone and helpless feeling. After twenty-five months, I would go home to very much, the same household. I missed much of the maturing stages of my life, I left afraid and unsure. Having grown up in Spring Creek Lodge, I could not picture life without it. I knew nothing about the outside world anymore, I had not talked to a girl in over a year, and I did not even know whom the president was.

Now I think of how I was used, manipulated, and hurt. The pain I felt, even wanting to die, if it meant leaving that place. Spring Creek, and some events, I would regret my whole life. After getting out and seeing how little had changed, even in other graduates, I felt even more lost. Institutionalized, all I knew, I hated. Now, almost a year later, I am still afraid and alone. Still running, and still hiding. That fourteen-year-old boy is a distant memory, but his pain will forever be a part of me.

That pain, every person at Spring Creek felt, in all W.W.A.S.P programs. Not only does it not work; it destroys lives, hopes, and dreams. Being home, nothing has changed, but compared to Spring Creek, things are great. Every day, I feel different than everyone else. Like I had a lobotomy, something is missing. The worst pain, came from what was “fixing,” me.

Spring Creek Lodge Academy closed sometime in 2009

References:
Datasheet about the boarding school in Montana from Secret Prisons for Teens
The original story (Cached version of antiwwasp.com - may take a while to load)