September 27th, 2004 I was sent to Cross Creek Manor (CCM) Utah- One of the therapeutic boarding schools that were operated by World Wide Association of Specialty Programs (WWASP).

September 25, 2004-“What the hell am I doing?” I ask myself this question and take another drag of my cigarette. The smoke slowly fills my lungs and I exhale. “I’m fucking up my life.” I tell myself this, but I already know. I’ve known it for a long time. I know it right now and I still won’t do anything about it. “I have nowhere to go, I have nothing, what am I going to do?” Taking another drag off my cigarette I look at my surroundings. I’m next to a sparkling blue lake, green trees, and fresh flowers on a gorgeous day. But I don’t see this beauty. All I see is a world I hate living in, all I feel is numbness, and all I want is to fall asleep and never wake up. My eyes become fixated on the concrete path and I stare in a motionless trance for what seems like an eternity. I blink back to reality and put my cigarette out in a crack of the sidewalk. “I’ll get high, then I’ll feel better.”
The reflections above are that of a 14-year-old girl (me) who had just run away from home. She was struggling to understand her sexuality, had started using drugs and was caught drunk on 2 occasions. She had recently learned who her real father was and had been through a custody battle over familial abuse. She had no love for herself and no trust in her family. Who wouldn’t want to help that 14-year-old girl? A promise to “save my life” is what CCM sold to my parents who were “desperate” for solutions they didn’t have. So, with the belief there were no other options, I was taken to CCM 2 days later. I had no idea where I was going, but I wasn’t fighting it. I knew I was messed up and I didn’t want to go home.
There isn’t a word to describe the combination of terror and confusion that I felt in that first week at CCM. I was getting in trouble for everything. Normal things, like standing up or walking through a doorway. I had to show staff I was wearing only one bra and one pair of socks. I had to count out loud anytime I went to the bathroom. I spent every day in “Worksheets” where I sat still at a desk, in silence, listening to tapes and taking tests. I had to wear sandals in the shower. I overheard staff on the radio saying a girl was being taken to “Isolation”. I heard a girl be called a “dirty slut” by her therapist. I watched another girl carry around a sack of flour every day. I sat in “Ron Meetings” (the director’s “intervention”) where I learned the flour was to shame her for having an abortion and listened to him threaten that girls would be sent to Jamaica where they would be beaten, placed in cages, and starved. – Where was I? Was I having a nightmare? Some nights I actually thought I would fall asleep and wake up back home. Wishful thinking.

I was there for a year and a half. Prompt WAKE UP! -make bed-get dressed-brush teeth-clean the room- all in 15 minutes. LINE UP! NO EYE CONTACT. DONT TALK. Breakfast- in silence listening to motivational tapes. LINE UP! Schoolwork in silence. LINE UP! P.E., you can talk, but stay away from the fence. NO EYE CONTACT. LINE UP! Schoolwork in silence. LINE UP! Lunch- in silence listening to motivational tapes. LINE UP! Group Therapy. LINE UP! Free time (cards, crocheting, drawing, or talking) NO LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW. LINE UP! Dinner- in silence listening to motivational tapes. LINE UP! Watch a motivational movie, write a reflection. LINE UP! Assembly roll call. LINE UP! Back to the bunks. 15 minutes to shower-brush teeth-change, then STAY ON YOUR BUNK. LIGHTS OUT! Every day, for a year and a half. Some weekends we got to watch movies and we listened to opera or country music in the dining hall. We could write letters to our parents on Sundays and they would be sent after staff read them to make sure we weren’t saying anything bad about CCM or asking to come home. If you did, there were consequences.
There were levels to the program, 1-6. I only made it to level 4. You reached levels by completing therapeutic seminars offered every quarter and by accumulating points. Points were earned weekly but you could lose them if you got demerits. Demerits were served in Categories 1-5 (mild-severe), CAT-1 if you broke a rule like neglecting your water bottle (+/-10points), CAT-3 for touching the doorknob with your bare hands when you were sick (+/-50points), CAT-5 if you cracked your knuckles or neck (+/-100points) and loss of your level with immediate “Worksheets”. The list of rules goes on and on. If you were “really bad” you were sent to “Isolation”. I never went, but I was scared of it.

Three day long therapeutic seminars had us dig up all of our past traumas and rewire our thinking. I was voted out of DISCOVERY by my peers for not being “authentic” enough while divulging my insecurities and told to “Shut up!” by the facilitator of FOCUS when I was crying heavily during a dramatized death process. If you “failed to work” in seminar, you had to wait about 3 months to try again (3 more months of your parent’s money for 3 more months of your abuse). “Failing to work” meant things like: not sitting down next to someone new by the end of a certain song, not disclosing “the real things” like molestation, not crying, crying too much, not wanting to talk, or not completely filling out (in small print) two sides of about 10 sheets of paper with trauma processing (at sleep depriving hours of the morning and night) by the start of the next day’s seminar. There was definitely some helpful catharsis and valuable knowledge gained in seminar, coupled with loads of psychological and emotional abuse. I thank the end of seminar line dances for teaching me that dancing was something that made me feel better. Seminar graduation was one of the only times you could hug someone without consequence. Hugs were only permitted for a maximum of 3 seconds in staff view.

I had developed terrible OCD there (I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time). I began writing myself up demerits for every little thing. I was punished for this behavior with a month long “silence process”-I couldn’t speak to anyone except to ask to go to the bathroom- and my friend had to receive my same demerits. My therapist made me look her in the eyes and tell her “I don’t care about you”. I saw how much it hurt her. I carried such self-hatred and that only made it worse. I was told I was “doing this on purpose” and “you don’t care about anyone”. All I could muster was “I’m sorry, I don’t know why” with tears streaming down my face as I was yelled at and punished for an illness I didn’t understand and couldn’t control. My therapist had labeled me an addict in my time there, and sent me to another group because I wasn’t “working the program”.
I was taken out of CCM shortly after, in February of 2006. I was placed at a behavioral outpatient facility for about a month where I was diagnosed with OCD/Anxiety and put on medication. I was obese from lack of proper nutrition and had 7 cavities from lack of access to dental care. I received an insufficient high school education requiring me to finish out my remaining credits at continuation school. I didn’t notice all this stuff while it was happening, I was just terrified of being home. -Was it even home anymore? Where did I belong?

I can neither confirm nor deny that CCM “saved” my life. I was, “safe” behind those walls. As a result, I became knowledgeable beyond my years and incredibly traumatized. My parents thought they were making the best possible decision at that time, and I certainly don’t blame them for what happened at CCM. All that money spent, and I wasn’t “fixed”. I didn’t know how to put into words what had happened while I was there. I didn’t know how to explain why I wasn’t “better”. I was brainwashed. All I knew was that I felt ashamed and obligated to be perfect. It took years to awaken to how that experience really impacted me and all that it lacked in actually helping me and my family. 10 years to be exact. I’ve spent the greater part of my life healing from familial and institutional trauma, and I’m still healing. CCM did provide me with the opportunity to form deeply meaningful relationships – my CCM sisters – and for that, I am truly grateful.

I’ve learned through therapy that I have Complex PTSD, and I’m working on it.
-I had overwhelming OCD/Anxiety upon release. It has become manageable, but I still have triggers.
-I was socially awkward, not knowing how to fit in. I had a hard time talking and looking people in the eye, and was uncomfortable giving or receiving hugs. I sometimes still feel this way.
-I felt generally unsafe and on alert everywhere. Hypervigilance. This is still a struggle for me.
-I spoke and acted like a robot. Like one of those tapes I was forced to listen to, over and over. Stuck on this cycle of shaming myself into fixing myself. This has gotten easier, but it has never fully diminished.
-I spent 10 years in and out of the rooms of AA/NA trying to fix myself, but I was never really an addict. I value all of the tools I learned there, and I’m happy I found my freedom from that falsely given and internalized identity.
-I have a hard time forming intimate relationships. I lack trust and often seek love from partners who can’t give it, perpetuating a cycle of abuse. This is what I’m working through the most these days.
I tell my story, not so that anyone will feel bad for me but, to shine a light on the reality of what happened then and is still happening now. We were taught at CCM to take accountability for everything, including our abuse. I am NOT responsible for what happened to me, but I CAN do something with my experience. Work through it, share it, hold space, advocate, and that is what I have, and will, be doing. I have accomplished a lot despite that experience and the lingering trauma. I hold multiple college degrees and I am months away from becoming a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW). I am a survivor.
Please join me in Breaking Code Silence by spreading awareness about institutional child abuse and the need to reform the Troubled Teen Industry (TTI).

-Casey Jablonski (CCM September 2004- February 2006)

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