Thursday, February 5, 2009

Rehab or the Lack Thereof

Everytime you turn on the tv, there's another celebrity goin' into rehab. Brittney, Lindsay, Robin Williams and Amy Winehouse are just the first that come to mind. It almost seems like you ain't quite reached celebritydom unless you've been to rehab a few times whether you really needed it or not. Either way, I don't think these people are coming out any better. Maybe for a minute, but then they're right back. I think the key here is that they need to WANT to get better or at least need to know what it is they're supposed to get better from. It's usually their managers, publicists, and directors of the shows they're on that want them to go to rehab to make up for something "bad" they've done so they can right their image in the media. Well, ain't that a bunch of shit?

When I was a teenager, I was shipped off to one of these such places. Not for drugs or alcohol, but for the company I chose to keep and the clothes I chose to wear. I had decent grades (I was passing at least), I didn't lay outta school all the time and I didn't get in too much trouble. HOWEVER, I did cut my hair weird, wear combat boots and ripped fishnets and dark makeup, I argued a lot and I hung out with some pretty "agitated" people. For that, I got sent away.

I hated living at home, but really, what teenager didn't? At every corner I would turn, I was told I wasn't good enough. It sucked, and I got tired of it. The way I saw it, there was nothing wrong with pink hair, going to shows, listening to punk rock music and having the friends I did. Ok, so I get the worry over the whole friends thing. It wasn't a crowd parents would ever want their kids to hang out with, but it wasn't as bad as it looked from the outside.

When my Dad pulled up to the place all the fucked up kids go to, I was so confused. My Dad was doing this to me. MY DAD!?!? My insides were crushed. I could see my Mom and Stepdad doing this to me, seeing as how they had done it to one of my brothers and tried to do it to the other but he left home before the got the chance. But here was my DAD doing this to me! Turns it, it was my mom after all. She'd convinced my dad that this is what I needed. I went in confused as all get out. I felt betrayed.

This was supposed to be a rehab center of sorts I suppose. "Rehab for what?" is what I was thinking. Let me tell you, that place was fucked up. There were kids that were addicted to drugs I'd never heard of, kids that had tried to kill themselves and nearly succeeded, kids that were sexually abused, kids that liked to sexually abuse...things, kids that didn't eat like EVER and kid's that were given the choice between jail and this place. I'd never known this level of dysfunction in my entire life and a lot of these kids had been there several times. Ok, so isn't the point of a "rehab" to get better and not come back? I think so, but I could only assume really. What exactly was I supposed to recover from?

While I was in this place for derelicts, I was fired by my shrink who said he could do nothing for me only to be assigned another shrink who told me (after speaking with me for ten minutes) that if I tell him what he needed to hear, all the things I knew my parents would want to hear from a model child, he would have me out in two weeks max. He lived up to his word.

I learned things I would've never imagined while I was there. I learned that you could empty the water in your toilet and talk to people through the pipes. I learned you could sneak in cigarettes by pulling the felt thing out of markers and replacing them with cigarettes when you had a day pass. I learned to dry and straighten my hair by the furnace on the wall. I learned the quiet room wasn't so quite when you could hear yourself breathing. I learned that if you got too out of line, they'd strap your ass down on a table at your ankles and wrists and give you a shot to make you stop. I learned to be a certain way to keep myself from gettin' beat up. I learned to get in someone's face and yell so they'd think I was crazy enough to beat them up and I eventually learned that violence solves a lot. That placed changed who I was at my core. Even though I was able to leave just about everything shitty there and never look back, there is a part of me that I wish I hadn't left there. I'm not sure what was meant to be accomplished was ever accomplished, because I'm not sure of what was supposed to be accomplished in the first place.

Whatever.

Rehab is just the "in" thing to do right now. Soon, all those $2,000 a day places will go broke and outta business just like everyone else is these days.

1 comments:

courtney said...

wow, i went through the same fuck'n thing.. i'll never forget it, it was "willowBrook" down in Red Oak Texas. my shrink told me my blue hair didn't make me crazy, that it was my mom and dad that were twisted and then told me.. and I quote.. "some times it is the well one in the family that winds up in here to bring a sick family together".. fuck that shit.. get me outta here!

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