(The following below covers age 16-20)
Two days later I was back at school. The staff were told NEVER to threaten me with the psych ward again. And they didn't. Apparently the psych ward punishment is reserved only for my mom's use.
A teacher asked me to grade some work assignments. The teacher set me up on a chair outside the gym/ lunch area. Right across from the schools solitary room. Another bully at the school came out the gym.
He used the bathroom and then came over and tried to talk to me. I ignored him, I didn't want any trouble. When I wouldn't talk to him he became angry. He then turned around and went into the solitary room that was located next to the gym and closed the door.
The kid then began throwing himself against the walls while yelling "Stanley let me out, why did you lock me in here?". Several times I told him to just open the door, that I wasn't holding it. Finally I stopped talking to him and just ignored him and continued grading the papers for the teacher.
A staff that was above us on the staff break patio heard him yelling and came down. The staff member looked at me while he walked over to the time out room. I was ignoring the kid and grading the work. The staff member opened the door to the solitary room and the kid came out with a bloody nose.
The staff asked him how it happened and the bully told him I hit him and locked him in the solitary room. The staff member looked at me and said "Your in big trouble" and walked off to the nurses office. I was driven home by Marshall, the vice principle. Marshall also was one of the other staff who worked as one of the time out room staff with Bobby. Marshall is a white male and was about late 40's during this time)
I went into the house to make some lunch. I was home just long enough to make some mac and cheese and sit down to watch some music video's when I saw the American Medical Response (AMR) ambulance pull into the drive way.
Because of the ambulance use to take me to the psych ward during my childhood I have flashbacks and panic attacks when I see them. Living in California, AMR (American Medical Response) is a common ambulance company. So they are not exactly avoidable. (Picture Below):
My mom walked out to the ambulance and pointed to the alley. She had the ambulance leave and park in the alley till the mobile psych team arrived, as if I wouldn't see them there. There was almost 2 feet of the top of the ambulance including the light bar sticking up on the other side of the brick wall. Yea, totally out of sight mom. Before I had even gotten home she called the psych ward and told them I was suicidal again, on top of other false things.
I went into a panic attack seeing the ambulance. I quickly put on my shoes and went into the bathroom and tried to go out the window, but there were just too many nails in the window sill from past guests using the room. I just couldn't make it out without getting my clothes repeatedly caught on the nails. So I walked out the front door and began walking to the back of the building saying I had to get something from the back.
My mom sent one of the guys she knew from next door to see what I was doing. The second I turned the corner I began to run as fast as I could down the back side of the building, out the gate and up the street. The guy ran after me and tackled me 8 apartment building's down and brought me back.
From there I was taken inside and sat at the kitchen table and the guy stood right next to me till the psych team arrived. Every time I tried to close the kitchen door for some privacy he would open the door again. I put on my headphones and listened to my music.
So the woman from the psych team arrived and asked me why I wanted to kill myself. I told her I wasn't going to bother trying to explain anything since they were not going to listen to me and were going to take me no matter what I said anyway.
She asked me to walk out to the ambulance. I refused to go. The woman told me if I didn't get in the ambulance willingly that she would call the police who would put me in handcuffs and take me to the psych hospital that way. Not wanting to be handcuffed I walked out to the ambulance. When I got out to the ambulance I was told to lay down. The EMT then put on and tightened the light brown leather restraints. They stopped the ambulance just as we began to drive off when I said I wasn't sure if I had insurance. But my mom cleared that up real fast and they took me back to the psych ward in Van Nuys. I was hospitalized for 2 weeks this time again at Van Nuys Psychiatric. 14 days. Not only was I sent for the kids bloody nose that I didn't even do, but my mom talked to the woman upstairs who said she saw me and my brother throwing knives at a wooden board out back. Boy stuff.
She told my mom that I was throwing knives at my brother which never happened. Instead of my mom coming to me and asking me what happened, or asking my brother even about what happened she called the hospital and told them I was throwing knives at my brother.
What really happened was it was a weekend, my mom and her boyfriend were at work as telemarketers. Me and my brother were home alone and board. So we got 6 of the steak knives, 3 each and we drew a target on a wooden board and we would take turns and who got closest to the center mark won.
No knives were thrown by either one of us until we were both clear and out of the way. No one threw knives at anyone. And had my mom bothered to ask either one of us, she would have found that out. Why the woman next door would say such a thing, I still don't know.
So originally I was under the impression that I was sent there for the bloody nose incident. So it wasn't until I got to the hospital that I found out why I was there. They asked the typical "do you know why your here". I never know. I always have to have them tell me what my mom told them.
When I found out I was highly pissed off. Not only was I sent there for the kid getting the bloody nose in the schools time out room which I didn't do, but she lumped on this knife throwing incident that actually happened more than 2 weeks prior putting them both together.
So on the report, it's all made out like it happened on the same day. It said basically that I gave a kid a bloody nose at school, then went home and threw knives at my brother. Anyone reading such a report would think I was some kind of dangerous bully psycho. Both things happened at two different times, and neither one of the incidents had the true information. So things got bad real fast. After being check in and assigned my room, I went to the pay phone and called my mom up to find out why she made the false report. I explained to her what REALLY happened. All she had to tell me was "If your brother get's taken away I will never forgive you" and she hangs up. Seems now child services was investigating her for leaving us alone without supervision. And they had the same report that said I gave the kid a bloody nose and then threw knives at my brother and they were looking into placing my brother into foster care.
My mom could care less what the hospital was going to do to me over her false information. All she cared about was my brother and if he went into foster care. Maybe she should have thought about that before she once again called the psych ward to get me admitted again.
So going off of this information child services felt I was a threat and danger to my brother and were considering putting him in foster care. Me on the other hand was not allowed to return home......ever. Child services said due to the report, I am not to return home or anywhere near my brother for any reason.
That I was to remain in the psychiatric hospital till a suitable group home could be found. If one could not be found by the end of 2 weeks, I would be transported to the California State Hospital in Napa California and held there till a group home could be found.
As expected I totally freaked. Things were getting out of control fast, and all over things I DIDN'T DO. So after my moms comment about not forgiving me if my brother got taken by child services I just lost it. I hung up the phone and began walking down the hall to leave. As one can imagine, I wasn't thinking clearly. I was crying and all I was thinking about was getting home and trying to fix things. Even if that meant walking all the way home in my socks.
Had I stopped to think, I would have realized a few things. The first being that I was on a locked psych ward. I wasn't going anywhere. And even if I did somehow make it out the two locked doors, I couldn't possibly walk over 5 miles in socks, shorts and a T-shirt. It would tear up my feet. Couldn't take the bus without shoes, nor did I have the money anyway.
And even if I got home, what could I possibly do? Not much before the police and ambulance would be there to take me back to the psych ward. My idea to go home and fix things was set to fail from the start, but I wasn't thinking straight. All I wanted was to be home and everything be alright. That wasn't going to happen. Not now.
So I hung up the phone and began walking to the ward door. Halfway down the hall a male staff comes up next to me asking me where I was going. While crying I tried to say "home, to fix things". Suddenly the staff member stopped walking.
Just as I turned to see why, I was grabbed from behind and thrown onto the floor face down. Then the staff member placed his right knee on my spine about midway down my back and applied his full body weight till he was lifting himself off the floor.
There was a series of very loud cracks and then extreme severe pain like I can not even describe. This staff member, doing what he just did, had just caused a severe spinal injury. I let out a huge scream from the pain. Other staff assumed I was just simply "going off" and came to help their buddy.
I was unable to move. They picked me up off the floor and I was carried to solitary, placed face down on the solitary room mattress, injected with Thorazine. I was then turned over onto my back and placed in 5 point restraints. Not like they needed them, I was unable to move. The good thing about it was, with being knocked out by the Thorazine, I wasn't awake to feel the pain in my back.
I wouldn't find out for another 6 years about how bad the spinal injury was. I knew I hurt my back from the staff member, but I didn't know how bad. Not only did it cause the bed wetting to become more severe, but the pain has gotten worse over the years. When I first got out of the psych ward I was taking Tylenol every 4-6 hours like clockwork for the pain in my back. I could have taken stock in the darn company.
Over the years I needed something more. When the injury was fully discovered by a doctor in New York he put me on Vicodin. It was the first time that a good amount of the pain was taken away. Tylenol was ok, but the Vicodin allowed me to actually have most of my movement back.
As the years went on, more medication needed to be added to manage the pain in my back. And present day I am currently on 2 Vicodin, 10mg Methadone (In the same family as Morphine), a 10mg Flexeril muscle relaxer and a pain medication call Baclofen 10mg all every 6 hours. And yes, that's a lot.
The back pain is no joke and causes me much discomfort. Even with the medication there is breakthrough pain. But at least with the pain medication the pain is tolerable. And to top it off, any stabs of pain in that area directly triggers flashbacks of the event when my back injury occurred. Forced to replay being thrown to the floor, the knee in my back and then placed in restraints. Over and over again.
Anyway on with what happened. So it would be about 12 hours or so before I would wake up. Sometime over the 12 hours the staff came in and carried me to my room. I still wasn't able to move much so I closed my eyes and stayed in bed for a while more. Then I tried to get up.
I was still in pain, but not as much as when the incident first occurred. Perhaps the 16 or so hours of bed rest helped when the back swelled. I am no doctor so I have no idea. But in that time, no one thought to do a x-ray or even a simple check up to check for damage. Nothing.
So I managed to sit up and then stand using the foot board of the bed for balance. Then I walked to the door of the room. I realized that during the time in solitary, they had assigned me to a different room, one room down from the nurses station. By what happened earlier, I can understand why. Probably wanted to keep a better eye on me or something. Who knows.
At this time one of the staff members saw me up and told me to go to the medication window. I figured it was for some Tylenol or something due to the injury. When I got to the window the nurse handed me a cup with a pink liquid with the consistency of syrup. I said that it didn't look like Tylenol and asked what it was.
I was told it wasn't Tylenol. That it was liquid Thorazine. I put the cup down and asked for Tylenol for the pain. I was told no, and again handed the cup and told to drink it. I politely said no thank you and walked back to my room and laid down.
10 minutes later 3 staff members rushed in and grab me. Such violent grabbing and swift movement hurt my back. I screamed in pain. I was dragged to the solitary room, held against the wall. The nurse pulled down my pants and injected the Thorazine into my butt cheek. I was then again laid on the bed on my back and put back in restraints. Again I was glad to get the shot so I would be knocked out and not feeling the severe pain I was in by being dragged around by the staff.
Later that week for the sake of my back I just took their medication. I figured at least on the Thorazine all the time I wouldn't be in pain. And I figured it was a good idea since they still wouldn't give me any Tylenol. I slept A LOT of the time. In fact my mom, her boyfriend and my brother came to visit. It was the one and ONLY time they came. Probably because of what happened during their visit.
About midway through the first week there they came to visit. It was about 6pm. A staff member came to tell me I had a visitor. I was escorted to the visiting room just outside the locked ward. I felt very dizzy standing trying to walk. I made it to the room and sat down. My mom asked me how I was doing. All that came out of my mouth was "I am doing......." before my head hit the table.
I imagine it looked like I had died or something. I had passed out from the high dose of Thorazine they had me on. They were unable to wake me up. I woke up about 10 hours later back in my room with no memory of how I got back there. The only thing I remember is sitting down at the visiting table. That's it. I was told what happened in the visiting room later. No one ever came to visit me there again.
Much of this stay I slept due to the constant dose of Thorazine. Every time I woke up they would give me another dose to knock me back out. Probably is why my back pain wasn't so bad. With all the constant sleep no stress was being put on my back.
About 4 or 5 days later, it was almost 2 weeks. Goes by fast when you sleep all the time. They were finally lowering the doses and I was able to stay awake for a while. I was still medicated to the point where I was still weak and tired. It just wasn't enough to actually fully knock me out.
I met with the social worker who informed me again that I wouldn't be going back home. But that no group home or foster home could be found for me. He informed me that if one couldn't be found by that Friday, that the following Monday I would be transported to Napa State Hospital for holding till a foster or group home could be found.
I wanted to make some phone calls right away but I had to go to a group first. So not wanting to be put in any more pain I just went. What I found disturbed me. The group had a man teaching all the kids on the boys unit, some kids as young as 6 and 7 years old about condoms. He asked for a volunteer. A boy about 10 years old stood up and went to the front.
The man had a banana and handed the kid a banana and a condom and taught the kid how to apply it to the banana and roll it down the banana. I saw no reason why a children younger than 15 had to know anything about condoms.
And I failed to see how teaching kids about condoms had anything to do with their mental health. This and other sexual education teachings is something the child's parents need to be doing. Or a sex ed class at the child's school. Not a psychiatric hospital.
And that thinking of it being inappropriate made itself clear later that afternoon. Later a kid was punished because after the sex ed group meeting the staff found a towel that was rolled up into a makeshift vagina and the kid was pouring shampoo into it to act as a lubricant. I imagine the kid was pretty embarrassed. I just felt it was wrong for such young kids to be learning about sex, masturbation and condoms. That's how I feel about it anyway.
So anyway, after the group I took what energy I had and made some calls. I was told if I could find a family member who would let me live with them, I could be placed with them. I figured that way I would be able to work on fixing this huge mess if I could get placed with one of the family. But remember, I am not liked like my brother. It was hopeless from the start.
Either I was told "NO!!!" and hung up on, or just straight hung up on. By now my mom's false story had made it to all the family and no one wanted anything to do with me. I got upset. I didn't want to be in one of these state hospital places till I was 18. 2 years. And that's only if they hold me till 18. Some hold you till your 21, and that would be 5 years.
I hung up the phone and pretty much ran to my room (as best I could with my hurt back) very upset. I just wanted the whole world to open up and swallow me. But because I was upset again, two staff members came in and told me I had to go to solitary, or "time out" as they called it, and cool off. I asked to just be left alone please.
They then approached me and told me to again go to solitary. When I didn't move they grabbed me and took me to the solitary room to "cool off" because I was angry and was upset and crying in frustration. Apparently I wasn't allowed to be angry or upset.
It was almost 8PM, they injected me with more Thorazine, locked the door and turned off the lights in the solitary room. I wasn't in restraints this time. The Thorazine didn't work. I got tired, but didn't pass out. But I was instead getting scared.
The room was very dark as it was after 8pm and they turned most of ward lights down. The only light coming in was from the nurses station and it barely lit one foot into the room in front of the door through the little window in the door.
The only other light coming into the room was from the grate covered window on the other side of the room. The hospital sat next to a big white building, but moonlight was still able to shine down and bounce in off the white painted wall of the building next door. It was enough to light the corner of the room by the grate covered window. I was left in the room overnight until morning when the sun came up some time around 8 or 9 am.
No bathroom and no food. I sat in the corner of the room by the grate covered window all night. It was very cold. Perhaps 66 or so degrees. But there were no blankets. Just the blue hospital mattress covered with a white fitted hospital sheet and restraints hanging off of it. I had on socks, shorts and a T-shirt. So I sat down and pulled my shirt over my legs, and pulled my arms in to keep warm.
I couldn't take it anymore and began to cry, begging to god or who ever is out there to please let me die. I wanted out of this life. Then my thoughts turned on me. I began telling myself I was a bad person, that I must be bad to get treated like this. I went through a lot that night. The staff at the psych ward succeeded, they had broke me. I no longer cared anymore. I didn't care what happened to me anymore.
It was one of the worst nights of my life and would effect me up till present day. Because of that night, I am terrified of the dark. I have a night light on in every room of the house. In my room I have one of those 3 light level touch lamps. That touch lamp and the night lights are on 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's a bit brighter than a night light. But 90% of the time I prefer to only sleep when the sun is up. Mostly because I feel better sleeping when the sun is up, and secondly my nightmares for whatever reason seem less stronger during the day time.
After coming out of solitary, I barely talked. I mostly kept my head down and looking at the floor. I sat alone when I did eat. I slept in my bed 90% of the time. While in school at the hospital, I barely spoke. I stopped caring. I pulled myself inside my mind and my body went on autopilot. I did what I was told, said what they wanted me to, took what they wanted me to. I don't even remember much of the rest of the stay after that night in solitary. I just..........existed.
Finally Friday arrived. I was asked to come and meet with the social worker. I was told that still a group home was not able to be found. I was told they decided that based on my behavior (or lack there of any behavior since they broke me) I would be allowed to return home. However there would be some stipulations.
I was not allowed to be alone with my brother, ever. I was to be supervised at all times. If I did go anywhere with anyone, my mom was to be informed of who I was going with, where I was going, a contact phone number for the place and when I was to return home. I was not to go anywhere without my mom's knowledge period. When I returned home, was explained all this again. I mostly just slept. I was still inside myself. Over the course of a few days I began to come back out of myself.
That following Friday after being released from Van Nuys Psych under my mom's watch, my mom had me come with her to the new school I would be going to called Tobinworld. I would be sent to Tobinworld since the last one expelled me for the bloody nose incident that I didn't even do.
The lobby of the school was like a hotel lobby. It has a double grand staircase and looked pretty nice. But that was for show. There was no tour or anything. We met with the principle and did a meeting to decide which classroom I would be placed in. I then had the weekend to get ready.
By Sunday I was more or less back to my old self, but not without problems. Damage was done. The last stay effected me. In addition to the new school, my mom had me seeing a therapist at the Glen Roberts Child Study Center there in Glendale. I first started seeing a female therapist. Me and her didn't mesh well at all.
So that Sunday evening I was looked at this new school as a brand new start. My mom took me to get new some new things for school. However we came to find out most were not allowed. No backpacks were allowed. Students were to come with nothing but shoes, sox, pants/shorts, a shirt and a jacket when cold. Nothing else. Nothing in their pockets.
There was a staff member, besides the bus driver that was on the bus in case one of the kids needed to be restrained and was also there to search the students if they saw a bulge or suspected you had something in your pocket. Because of this rule, my backpack stayed at home. But I figured my wallet, keys and a pen I got from the 99 cent store wouldn't be a problem. I was wrong.
That morning the bus arrived. It sucked being picked up in that bus. It was a 40 foot bus with "TOBINWORLD" written on the side. Anyway I was about 16 1/2, almost 17 when I started going to this new school. It was summer school. This one would be the worse school yet. This school was located in Glendale California.
That morning I was picked up around 8am. Once on the bus a staff member asked me to stand back up. He then asked me what was in my back pocket. I said my wallet. Not only did he take my wallet but also my house keys were taken away on the bus. I asked what he was doing. He told me students were not to have anything on their person but their clothes and shoes.
The pen wasn't found on the search by the male staff member on the bus. I explained that the items were mine. That the wallet had my ID and some money, and I needed my keys as I was a latch key kid (well, I was before my last stay at the hospital), and the keys were for my bike lock and so forth. I was told I would get the back at the end of the day. I was ticked off to have my things taken from me.
This school treated students like they were little kids. Although I felt more like I was going to prison. You were never alone for one second from the time you were picked up till you were dropped back off home. You had a staff with you at all times. The staff all wear these blue shirts with "TOBINWORLD" with a rainbow over it on their shirts. Really stands out on field trips like when we went to the city library and such.
And if you had to go to the bathroom you had a staff member with you standing right behind you while you took a pee. The school totally felt like a prison. Security camera's, locked gates, staff. Might as well had us all in handcuffs and in cells. My first day there I was actually attacked and almost killed. I'm not kidding either. And by a staff member of all people.
It was summer school like I said. I came into the classroom, took my seat and was given class work. I took out an ink pen I had bought at the dollar store and began doing my work. This staff "Sabas" came up to me and accused me of stealing his pen. I told him he was mistaken that this pen belonged to me and went back to doing my work.
Well he ordered me to give him the pen. I refused. He then tried to snatch it out of my hand. He failed. Then he lunged at me, pushed me back in my chair tipping me backward in my desk, breaking a table in half that was behind me and smashing the fan that was on the table into pieces. I ended up on the floor on my back with him on top of me. The pen flew from my hand on the way down and landed by the wall under the window.
Sabas then pulled me from my desk (desk and chair combo) and he put me on my stomach. That's when he noticed the pen by the window. He picked up the pen and said "Now who has the pen?" I told him "Good for you". He was holding me down on the ground. Another staff member from the classroom next door heard the crash and came in.
The other staff member came in to help hold me down. He assumed I was "going off". Mind you I wasn't fighting back. All the sudden my arms and legs were extended out like I was flying. That's when Sabas put his elbow into my right shoulder blade and began pressing and drilling it in till I was screaming out in pain. The more I screamed the harder he pushed his elbow into me smiling as he did it. He was getting much enjoyment from causing me pain.
I was struggling to get Sabas off of me to stop the pain. Sabas and the other staff member added more weight to my back. That's when I began having trouble getting a breath from all the weight on top of me. I began moving trying to shift their weight so I could breath. As time went on I was having a harder and harder time breathing and thus was struggling more and more panicking trying to get air.
I was suffocating. I began to become light headed and very dizzy and my eye sight began to get blurry. I was about to pass out. I knew I was about to die and was having mixed feeling. On one hand, I didn't want to die, but on the other hand I was tired of being hurt by people and was looking forward to my life ending so I didn't have to be hurt by people anymore.
Then suddenly they both shifted their weight at the last second and I was able to get a breath. I cannot tell you how scary that moment was. And on my first day of school there no less. All this went on for about 30 minutes. Then I was finally let up. I was helped up and told to go down to the black top to meet with the other kids.
I walked down the grand staircase and saw my mom sitting waiting to meet with the principle for a IEP meeting. She didn't even notice my red face, my tear stained face. She didn't even realize that had they not shifted their weight at that time, she wouldn't be there for the IEP anymore, she would be there to claim my body.
So I walked by her and walked out the door which opened to the black top. Sabas stopped me when we got outside and put his mouth to my ear and whispered "If you do ANYTHING I will drop your ass, I don't care". The incident report that was filed by Sabas read: "Student kicked and punched staff and needed to be restrained on the floor for a time of 30 minutes. Student attempted to continue attacking staff. Incident resulted in minimal injury to student and bruises on staff".
Number one I never hit any staff member at any time. And besides screaming in pain, I didn't resist the staff holding me on the floor at all except for trying to shift their weight when I was suffocating. But of course according to the school I was lying and I was suspended 3 days for attacking staff.
Once I got home the staff on the bus returned my wallet and keys to me. It was later worked out that I would have permission to have these items as I needed to have them. The other issue with Tobinworld was my therapist appointment.
The center that was doing the therapy was 3 blocks away from the school. But because of the schools policy, you couldn't just leave the school. You had to get on the bus and be driven home to your front door. They would wait till you closed the door before they drove away.
The problem is I lived clear across town. It took me almost a hour to ride my bike all the way BACK to the school, and the 3 blocks passed the school I had to go. One of the staff stopped me when I passed the school one time. He was asking how I got back there. I told him I had a therapist I saw just 3 blocks away.
But because of their policy about not letting students be alone and having them have to be dropped off at home before they can go anywhere else, I had to take the school bus home, to get my bike to ride all the way BACK where I just came from to go to my therapists office. It was stupid.
It would have been so much less of a headache to step outside the school and catch the city bus as there was a stop right out front of the school and take the bus 3 blocks to my therapists office and then take the city bus home. But nope. That would be too simple.
I was also running into some issues with the first therapist and I was soon transferred to a new therapist named Arthur Miesner (Not sure on spelling). He would come to help a lot. He had been in the practice for much longer and knew it was sometimes more effective to throw away the book sometimes. Over time we built up trust. In my past, he was one of few therapists who was able to help me cope with the abuse at home, the hospitals and at school.
The psychiatrist didn't however who also worked at Glen Roberts Child Study Center decided to put me on a medication called Depakote. Along with a nasty taste, the medication made me sleep almost constantly. I was awake to eat meals and pretty much was sleeping through school. After a few days of this I told my mom I wasn't going to take it anymore.
She decided to start crushing it up and putting it into my food. I was eating a hamburger one evening for dinner. Something didn't taste right. I began to tear apart the burger patty and discovered chunks of the Depakote pills.
I threw out the hamburger and took out a can of Corn and ate that for dinner. For months I wouldn't eat ANYTHING unless I saw it being prepared from start to finish, or that it came out of a sealed can that I opened myself.
Something else was starting to happen around this time as well that made things even more difficult. Since I was 10 (As far back as I can remember) I have had the ability to pick up on others emotions. After some research I found that this gift is called being an "empathic".
In short, I am able to pick up on the emotions of those around me. Not everyone, and without choice. I am thus far unable to choose who a connection is made with or when. It's quite random. And often I feel it can be both a blessing and a curse. Blessing in that it helps me better help others. Curse in that there are some things I would rather not feel.
And going to such special education schools with such a gift made it difficult. Some of these kids cycle through emotions like people flip through channels on a TV. I had some difficulties with this gift at all the schools, however the students going to Tobinworld were far more emotional than other kids I had been around.
Many students in the classroom I was in cycled through different emotions swiftly. They would have a melt down if one of the staff took one of their points away. I swear to god. The student would actually break down crying and begging "no no no, please don't pleeeeesseeee.".
If the staff member didn't give the point back from them begging, the kid would then go into full melt down and start overturning their desk, throw books and so on. That's some major emotions to be connecting to.
Sometimes I would get so frustrated and fatigued that I would just need a break from the exposure. Even if that meant a bathroom break. During PE time, I often sat alone about 10 or more feet away from any persons.
Back when all this was going on I wasn't even aware I had this gift. I just thought all these feelings I had were all mine. It was confusing because I couldn't understand why I would suddenly become upset when nothing was going on around me to trigger anger at the moment. I just knew that when I sat alone I felt better...calmer. I didn't know why.
It wouldn't be for another 10-12 years before I would learn exactly why. But the school would observe my troubles with emotions and I was falsely diagnosed as "Severely Emotionally Disturbed" (SED for short). The schools do not recognize such gifts, so I was pegged with SED.
About 6 months into the school year my mom found out that I would qualify for Social Security Disability and applied. I was approved a few months later. SSI issued a $1,700.00 check for back pay that I would have gotten had I been approved the day I applied. A back pay or "retro" check is what they call it.
They told my mom she could take a portion for rent. So she took the check and deducted rent for the few months we were waiting. Some $800 or so dollars. The rest was used to buy some clothing, my own TV and VCR so I tape the home improvement shows that were on while I was at school so I could watch them later, and some other odds and ends.
I also got a CB radio that I got much use from. I loved being able to talk to other people. We lived close to the 5 freeway so I frequently talked with the long haul truckers and stuff. It was a good stress release. Don't ask me how because I have no idea, but I came up with a rig to boost my signal. I got a extra 4 or 5 miles off of it. But what I didn't know is I was bleeding over onto other frequencies.
One morning the school bus pulled up while I was chatting with this long haul trucker who was heading to Portland. I was saying my goodbyes and apparently it was bleeding over onto the school bus radio frequency. When I got on the bus some of the students told me they could hear what I was saying on the bus radio. Guess I had to watch what I was saying when the school bus was due to arrive....lol.
Most of my free time after school though was spent at Griffith Park. After getting home I would make a snack and then head off on my bike. They had a place called travel town that had scaled down steam trains. 50 cents a ride.
The box cars had the ceiling removed and 3 seats per car were added. So you road in a seat inside the scaled down model. It was fun. Other times I just road around the park hanging out. It was nice to be away from people and just chill in nature either just hanging out or meditating. I loved it there.
Later in the school year we moved down the street to a 2 bedroom apartment. My mom and her boyfriend John was having problems. He often drank a malt liquor called "King Cobra". This drink would make him often violent. He hated my brother with a passion. I recall this one time my brother was disrespecting my mom and John got tired of it. John got up and pined my brother to the wall and John had his hand around my brothers neck.
During this time my mom and John, her boyfriend broke up. Something they often do. They break up and get back together about 1-3 times a year on average back then. Often it had to do with him drinking that would spark a fight between them. But while in the 2 bedroom apartment my mom wanted some male company while he was gone and invited over a co-worker from the telemarketer room she worked for. A guy named Jeff Gibson. He was a nice guy more or less. Anyway, my mom had a fling with him for a few weeks while John and her were split up. Never was dull in my house. Always something going on.
Some other issues that occurred when John got drunk was he ripped out all the telephone lines in the house one time. He grabbed the line that was stapled to the wall and just started pulling it from the wall. Another time while staying with me, my brother and Stan in Baldwin Park. Him and my mom were staying to help with rent money during hard times for Stan. While drinking John took Stan's wallet. But when John sobered up he returned the walet and the money inside. He had said he just walked passed it, saw the money and so stuck it in his pocket on the way out the door.
There was a time when we were still in Baldwin Park and my mom and John was staying over (same time period as the stolen walet from Stan) to help with rent, John was drunk and then got a bottle of octane booster and was pouring it on a rag and sniffing it on the back patio. (Also called huffing). My mom had gone out to tell him dinner was almost done. He looked up at her and said "Please don't melt me".
He would often leave, get drunk and come back later. I recall I was in bed one evening. We have just moved from the motel my mom was staying in, and moved 4 blocks down to the 2 bedroom apartment. He had just come back from drinking but was still drunk.
He was knocking on the living room window asking my mom "Brenda, let me in, I'm cold". When she wouldn't let him in he started hollering that she was a B****, going on and on. Then he started in talking crap about me. "At least my 16 year old son isn't still wearing diapers". My mom had found my stash of diapers from time to time but she thought I just liked wearing them. She didn't know I was wearing them for the bed wetting problem.
So because we only moved 4 blocks away, I still was having to go to Tobinworld. Sabas spent most of that year calling me names like "White boy" and other remarks. Anything he could think of to get me upset so I would try to leave so he could justify slamming me to the floor claiming I was "going off". He got much pleasure from hurting me.
See, Sabas was one of those guys who pushed weights, drank those body building shakes and stuff. He brought this big jug of body building mix with him and would mix up container after container. He was always looking for a chance to get into fights to have a reason to hold down a student and do things to cause pain. To show he was in charge and that if you crossed him you would know pain. Very disturbing guy.
It was during this time that I began cutting (Self injury). And by the way, I highly recommend not starting in the first place as it's hard as hell to stop. I have been trying for years to stop and was just lately (March 2010) able to more or less stop. The urges are still there, but I am no longer acting on them. So that's a good thing.
When I was doing it in school, it was mostly with tacks and things. I was having trouble dealing with Sabas's comments and such as well as dealing with the emotions from the other students in the classroom. When self injuring for me, it would dull the emotions and bring me some peace. I would feel calm.
So I got into a habit of whenever someone did something to me, said something to me or when I was picking up emotions from others that I didn't like feeling I would self injure. I had no idea what I had started and it quickly got out of control fast.
Anyway, Sabas was constantly trying to get at me. He looked for any reason to slam me on the floor claiming I was "going off". He would do his name calling thing, calling me "white boy", tell me I am worthless as so on till I decided to get up and try to step outside the classroom to cool down and then would slam me to the floor and hold me down.
There was a period of time Sabas was keeping my lunches from me. The school has these flash cards they were doing in the mornings. They gave you flash cards and a timer that counted down seconds. The goal was to memorize the cards and do as many as you could in a set period of time, about 45 seconds.
I had reached a point that unless I had more time I was not going to improve. However they had a rule that said each student had to improve by two cards per week. No excuses. I just wasn't able to do any better.
I reached a point where I didn't take part anymore. I was tired of getting frustratingly upset at not doing any better, and then having Sabas come over and tell me I BETTER do better. So Sabas told me if I refused I would have to write out of a dictionary for 3 hours. To heck with that. I wasn't going to copy out of any dictionary. Certainly not for 3 hours.
So he told me unless I did the 3 hour dictionary writing I wouldn't get anything, including lunch. When lunch came around he would place mine on the table next to me just out of reach but just close enough for me to smell all day. This would go on for the week.
On Monday it was a new week, but I still refused to get myself all worked up over the cards. I knew I couldn't get anymore. So he would start the dictionary again and I didn't get my lunch for another week. This went on for over 2 months. By the middle of the first week he started keeping my lunch from me I began making myself a larger breakfast, and would just have lunch when I got back home.
The school also had a problem with me because I wouldn't pick anything in their reward room place. In the room you made a long term contract for prizes. The contracts are behavior related. That's what the school is all about. Behavior. Learning class work comes second. So the contract is for things like "I will sit still in my seat for a whole week", "I will not refuse commands for at least 3 days" and so on.
Some of the prizes in the room are like model cars, sweaters, baseball hats, stickers, coloring books and so on. Basically things for all age groups. However I didn't find anything interesting. And since they didn't do cash rewards either they had nothing I was interested in doing any kind of contract for first of all. And second of all the reward system again made me feel like I was being treated like a small child.
Don't get me wrong though. I understand the kids there, many are mentally very much younger than their age. I was in the high school classroom and for example when some of them lost points they would have a meltdown similar to a toddler would have. Begging mommy not to take the toy away and then when she doesn't give it back throws himself on the floor and kicks and screams.
In this case instead of throwing themselves on the floor, they overturn desks and throw school books. But all in all, many of the students are mentally toddlers in 15-17 year old bodies. At times it was surreal to watch these almost grown adults flip out over losing a point on their daily point sheets.
Same with the "class store". Kids would flip out if they couldn't get what they wanted from the closet. The biggest item is a can of soda. What's the big deal. Go home and go to the corner store and buy one when you get home. Again, same with the on-site Baskin Robins ice cream store.
You got 1, 2 or 3 scoops based on your points. These kids would have a melt down if they were one point from being able to get the 3rd scoop. Again, why not wait till you get home and get a bowl of ice cream from the freezer? I mean, all these food items are in the kitchen of most homes.
I knew I wasn't like most of these kids. So the schools point system didn't work on me. I wasn't going to cry, scream and beg for the staff member to give me a point back. And actually there was a time one of the aids tried reverse psychology. I found it funny.
When I didn't do something they wanted me to do, they would say something like "Stanley, if you don't do your assignment I am going to give you a point!". So instead of threatening to take a point, they threatened to give me one. They just couldn't figure me out.
The problem was simple, I just wanted to be treated with respect, and not treated like a 5 year old. Simple as that. And the staff that did just that we got along just fine. Most of the staff were used to babying most of the students. They were not used to handling a student that wasn't mentally 5 or 6 years old.
Sabas was all about brute force and doing what he could to make who ever crossed him suffer. Mid day this one Friday the class went to the "Teen Lounge" for a hour as they do every Friday. I had lost too many points by that time but I didn't care. I was told I could work on the classroom computer while they were gone by the teacher.
I was left in the room with Sabas and another student. While on the computer Sabas stood by the classroom door standing guard and the student came up behind me and placed a noose made from a jump rope around my neck and began pulling. I did my best to pull and get me neck out of the noose.
Meanwhile Sabas stood there and did nothing. Then the student came at me and attacked me. Using take down methods taught to me by my god father, I was able to defend myself and place the student safely on the floor and hold him down. When the class began walking back, that's when Sabas got involved. He grabbed me off the student and pushed me into my chair. I lost more points for "Attacking a student".
Anyway, a few days later another incident happened. One of the students, a kid named Carlos Covell asked to see some of the short stories I kept on a disk. I showed him, but when I got the disk back it was erased. I was pretty angry. I reported it to the teacher but nothing was done. So I took the kids tokens as payment for the erased disk.
The tokens were used by the school to rate a students behavior during the day along with a point system with a possible 5 points per hour. Based on the number of tokens you have gives you a choice of which reward at the end of the day you got. Such as a candy bar to a bag of chips.
Taking the tokens didn't do anything. The teachers kept track in other ways. The tokens were for kids to see how well they were doing by how many were in their cup at the edge of their desk. I was angry that all that work I had done was just deleted with nothing done about it. I wanted some justice. So in anger I took the tokens.
What I should have done was kept a back up disk. When I interacted with these kids I saw them as 15/16 year olds, not toddlers in a adult body. So the thought that a kid would find it funny as hell to delete my stories never crossed my mind.
Anyway, I had to stay behind that day while the rest of the class went to Baskin robins that was on the school. Of course I was left with Sabas. Wasn't more than 2 minutes when he began messing with me. He had me stand up and shoved me against the closet door and began searching my pockets for the tokens. I had already put them in the teachers cup that had the rest of the tokens. They were not on my person.
He then pushed me into sitting back in my desk. He took my hands and forced them onto the desk palms down. I had my hands clenched into fists holding them against my chest at the time. So he grabbed my hands, put them onto the desk and began mashing them down until they laid flat. It hurt but I kept picking them up and telling him to back off and leave me alone. And he kept grabbing my hands and forcing them back onto the desk palm side down.
When I wouldn't sit with my hands flat on the desk palms down he resorted to name calling again telling me "Your a waste of time, your a lost cause". When I made eye contact with him he says "Why are you looking at me? Are you gay? Your gay huh, we should put you in the other class with Freddy" (The cross dresser that was in the classroom next door).
The day finally came to an end. On the way to the bus the teacher tells me "Don't do anything rash, it's not worth it". And then he walked away. Did he have a clue what had gone on in the classroom that day? Did he know what I was about to do? Who knows.
By the end of that day I couldn't take it anymore. Day after day I took his verbal abuse and being physically abused by him. I decided I was going to end my life. I was walking out to get on the school bus and the teacher stopped me to talk to me for a second. He told me that what I was about to do wasn't worth it.
How did he know what I was thinking? He wasn't there to see any of the abuse. Sabas made sure when he did it no other staff were around. The thing is it was the teachers comment that made me reach out one more time for help to make Sabas's abuse stop.
That evening after I was dropped off at home and took off on my bike. I road to my therapists office and told him if no one was going to do anything about Sabas I was going to end my life to make the abuse stop. He decided to send me to Van Nuys Psychiatric Hospital once again. Once I got home the mobile psych team and a ambulance arrived shortly after I got back. This time I was held for 3 days.
Thankfully not much happened. Only that I got yelled at for talking to the "rainbows". Yea, I thought the dude was nuts too. Apparently during the time between my last stay and this one they had made some changes. All kids there under age 10 were called rainbows.
On my second day there I walked by this kids room. He was about 6 year old. He was sitting on his bed crying looking out his wire mesh window at the while brick wall of the building next door. The only thing outside the window was a bush with no leaves. He wanted to go home.
I walked in and sat down next to him. Asked him if he what his name was. It was Tyler. I asked him how old he was, and he told me 6. What a 6 year old could possibly do to be put in a psych ward is beyond me. I put my arm around him and told him it would be ok. That he would be going home soon. That's when a small blue bird landed on one of the branches of the dead bush outside.
We were talking about the bird when a staff member walked by and saw me talking to Tyler. He came in and told me that I wasn't allowed to talk to the rainbows. I thought he was nuts or something. When I asked what he was talking about he said Tyler was a rainbow and that I was not supposed to talk to him. OOOOKKKK. It was the next day one of the staff explained to me the whole rainbow thing.
FINALLY on the third day I was released and sent home and my mom believed me about the abuse. And according to the school Sabas lost his job and a note in his file was added so he could not work with children in the future. At least there is some justice in the world.
We were already planning to move again. This time to North Hollywood. When I got out of Van Nuys Psychiatric Hospital I was terrified of school. I refused flat out to going back to Tobinworld. So we waited till we moved to North Hollywood. From there my mom tried to find another school but no one would take me. I was pegged as a problem student and no one wanted to take me. But she found a school called "New School". I got bad feelings about the place before we stepped foot inside. Just like Tobinworld, New School looked good in the lobby. They did a tour but we were not able to see any classrooms because the students were too out of control. Going down one hall we saw a student locked out of a classroom. He was banging on the door screaming to let him in or he would kick someone's butt and so on.
Then I got this feeling that there was a "time out" room on the site. I was right. When I asked about it, the woman said yes there was a "time out room" on the site, but we were not allowed to see it. Can you say red flag?
We then sat down and began paper work. The lady asked me what I wanted to do. I said when I turned 18 I would be dropping out. That I was done being assaulted by staff and students. That I was done being afraid to go to school. She said if I was going to be dropping out in 4 months that it wasn't worth doing the paperwork.
So we went home and I stayed out of school for the remaining 4 months. I dropped out for my own safety. I was tired of getting a anxiety attack each morning waiting for the bus to arrive, wondering if Sabas was going to hurt me that day, or was it going to be verbal assault, or refused to be given my lunch. I never knew what was coming. So it caused me to have anxiety attacks.
December 26th 1998 I turned 18. Because I switched from a child to a adult status SSI canceled my disability. They felt I was able to work. I had always been interested in going into law enforcement. But due to my problems I was not able to do that.
So I went to the next best thing, security. And actually, I was very happy doing that for the most part. So I decided to give it a try. Looking through the paper I came across a company called Phil Am Security.
This company was a bit off to say the least. First of all, they didn't have me take any tests, and at the time I wasn't aware that I needed to apply for a guard card. They gave me a uniform and I had to buy my own badge which the company is supposed to have already for you.
My first day at work was very enlightening about the company. I was put with a partner and sent over to a high risk building where crime is a daily occurrence. The first major red flag was my partner. Growing up I had always been drawn to CO2 air guns growing up. So I was a bit shocked to see in my partners gun holster, a BB gun. That made me quite uneasy. When I asked him about it, he tells me he didn't have a carry licence and had his real gun under the seat in the truck.
The next red flag was the following week. I went to work that night and the owner drove me and several other guards out to this apartment building in San Bernardino California. We had to stop at the police station because apparently the owner of the security company I was working for didn't check with the local police.
Apparently the uniform happened to be the same style as their local sheriffs department. So they police office was instructing him to change the uniform design/color so as to not be mistaken for the local police officer.
So we ended up basically hanging out at this apartment building the owner of the company had as a client for several hours. It was very boring there all day and basically just sat around munching food all afternoon. We didn't really secure anything. So a week later when the pay check came out, it didn't include the 10 hours I spent at the building in San Bernardino.
When I confronted the owner about it he told me that it was done on my off time, even though I was in full uniform. It took a few calls to the labor board. They were able to get me paid for those 10 hours. The forth red flag was that the owner didn't pay us with checks.
He paid us cash right out of the ATM. No tax information............ nothing. So that was the last needed red flag for me, on top of the report from the labor board that the company was not legit or legal. It was one of those hole in the wall type company. So I quit that same day.
About a week later I found a ad for another security company called "Initial Security". It was a company based out of Santa Fe California. My first site they gave me was this 6 story assisted living home in Glendale California.
Basically once per hour you went floor to floor checking to make sure the building was secure and all that. You were also given a pager so should any of the residents need help, they can page you to their apartment.
It was these places that I felt the most happiest. The reason is because I feel happiest when I am able to help people. So I got great joy from helping the residents. For example, people would come in with several bags from the store but couldn't get them all in the elevator before the door closed.
So I used my key to lock one of the elevators open, helped the person put everything in there, and once on their floor, lock the elevator again and helped the person get their bags to their apartment and then turned the elevator back on. You could just see that they were grateful for the help.
Then I remember this one night, this woman paged me about a break in. When I got up there, she informed me that someone was coming in through the air vents and taking dresses from her closet. Clearly no one was coming into the apartment through a 3 inch high, 6 inch long air vent. But for her, she believed this.
So to help her feel safe I opened the storage room on the other side of the vent to show her the room was empty and locked. Then to further help her feel safe, I told her I would check on her apartment and make sure the storage room was secure. I mean I had to be there anyway every 30 minutes to check the floor. So it really wasn't any big deal. But it really helped her feel safe.
So it really was nice to feel that I was able to help people directly like that. Sure I could have helped the public as a police officer too, but I wouldn't have had as often the chance to directly help people like I could working as private security.
In addition to working at the assisted living homes, I also worked a few other locations including a bank, the roof a factory to watch for fires while they were upgrading their systems, watched a temporary parking lot while the place was building a multi-level parking structure among other place. I worked with Initial Security from mid January of 1999 till the end of December 1999.
I relocated along with my mom and brother up to Stockton California in January of 2000. The apartment wasn't quite ready yet so we were sleeping on the floor at my mom's parents house up in the mountains. It was harder to conceal the accidents in such a situation.
What I did was I folded up a bath towel under me to lay on with a food 4 less shopping bag under that. In the morning if I was wet I would quietly get up, change the clothes and place the towel in the clothes hamper. It wasn't the best situation but it worked alright. After all, due to being in such a remote location using the diapers just wasn't practical. You just do what you can to manage the problem.
We were only up there for about 3 weeks when the apartment was finally ready in Stockton. It was a rainy day on move in day. It was a 3 bedroom apartment and was the first time I had my own room. Sure made managing the wetting much easier. About 4-5 days later I began working for Pinkerton Security.
About 3 months after moving into the Stockton apartment I began having day time accidents. Thankfully many of the day time accidents happened at near or at home. The ones that did occur during work were small enough to be able to be taken care of swiftly in the men's room so no one noticed.
The uniform was black pants and a blue shirt. The black pants helped to cover any small accidents. I kept a spare pair of pants in my duffel bag for accidents that were not able to be hidden. At the time I was working more as a rover working places were people had called off and they needed a temp. Some of the locations were like, for example a guard shack checking in trucks, watching a closed office building, and I worked a recycling yard once.
That recycling yard was the place I almost broke my neck. It was very dark, no lighting. I was doing a round and there was one of those sloped down ditches for trucks to back into so that the back of the trailer would be at the same level of the ground. Anyway, I almost stepped of the edge which was about a 4-5 foot drop.
Anyway, it wasn't too long though before the day time wetting accidents were coming too frequently and becoming larger and larger accidents. I had no choice but to start wearing the diapers during the day in addition to at night. I mean, at least with the diapers, the only one who would know I had an accident is me. So I kept 2 or 3 diapers in my duffel bag from then on out.
At first it was a bit difficult going to work wearing a diaper. I was very nervous. I mean, wearing one at home is one thing. No one is around me. But wearing at work took some getting used to. I did discover a few tips through trial and error that helped keep the fact that I wore diapers secret.
The first was wearing the underwear over the diaper. Not only did it keep the kind of puffy diaper more flat, but because the underwear were snug, there wasn't the normally noticeable rustle of the plastic outer cover of the diaper.
And just in case there was a plastic rustle, I kept a plastic bag in my pocket just in case someone asked, I could pull out the bag and say that it was the bag they heard. Also my keys I normally kept in my pocket, I began using a key clip on my belt so every step I took make the keys jingle and that also helped cover up the noise. In the end, no one at work every knew I wore diapers. I guess I did a good job keeping it discreet because in the end, no one at work knew I wore diapers. They had no idea.
Around May or June I decided to sit my mom down and explain to her about the diapers. That they were not just a fetish. That I made that up as a quick answer so she would drop a uncomfortable subject. So I sat her down and told her that the diapers were really for managing bed wetting accidents.
I was tired of having to sneak the diapers in, sneak out the dirty diapers and be on constant watch of anyone coming near where I had the stash of diapers. By having her know about the diapers I no longer had to be stressed out wondering if anyone would find out.
There was the AB side of me I wanted to share with my mom and those in the house so I didn't have to keep hiding everything as well, but I felt if I shared both the bed wetting and AB side of me both at the same time that it would be a bit of an overload. So I decided to share only the bed wetting information for the moment.
A few months after we got to Stockton was the first time I got to use my mom's computer on the internet. I was spending some time looking for information on adult bed wetting. Sadly most of what I found was message boards that had been taken over by some pretty mean people.
Anyone asking a question or looking for support was met by cruel remarks. For example, one reply to a post asking for suggestions to reduce wetting, I got "Just put a rubber band around Mr. Happy". Another suggested a zip tie. Just stupid remarks, mean, heartless remarks.
Soon I had reached a point where I more or less gave up trying to find a supportive place. That night in bed, something occurred to me. Since I couldn't find the support I was looking for, perhaps others out there had the same problem. So I sad down and drew up idea's for plans of exactly what I was looking for. That next night, was when the idea for this site was born.
The next day I set out to find a website to use to make the site with. I quickly learned that many sites required the person running it to know HTML. Since I didn't know this computer language, I had a problem. How to build a site without knowing HTML. It wasn't long before I came across a company called Homestead. Homestead uses drag and drop programs to build the sites. You choose what items you want to use, drag it to where you want it on the page your making and let go. From there you can choose to change the colors, text or whatever. And for those who do still use HTML from time to time, they have a box you can click on and drop on the page and put in your HTML as needed.
The little program on the first page of this bio that shows my books, that was a HTML program. The book site gave it to me pre-made. All I had to do was cut and paste it into the Homestead HTML editor. So from that moment, I decided homestead would be the engine of this site.
When I first started using Homestead, the program was very new. This was back in June of 2000. At that time it was free. About a year or so later is when they began charging for the service. They have a service for as little as $5.00 for 5 pages. And for those wanting a .com address, they charge a one time $10.00 free and then $2.00 a month for the .com address.
But clearly we needed much more space that just 5 pages. So we pay about $30.00 for several gigs of space for all the things we do here. But it's worth every penny if it helps just one person. So I gladly pay it every month.
So we first official opened in June 2000. Working on this site was where I spent my free time from the time I got off work till the time I went to bed. Every free minute was spent on not only running it, but doing my best to meet each member on chat or messenger or something more real time than a post. Sadly the site has grown much large from the 6 pages it was back in 2000. Sadly I don't get nearly as much free time to spend in the site's chat room as I did at the start.
Whatever needed to be done to help someone I did it. I like making a difference in people's lives when I can. The members here are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and that last thing I think of when I got to bed. I care about everyone here like my extended family, and that's the environment we keep here, that of a family helping each other when needed.
So, as for my other job, I worked for Pinkerton Security only for a year and a half. At first things went good. Sadly it wasn't always good. While roving I had been requesting a stable location to work. I was posted at a mental health center in Stockton (1212 California Street in Stockton California).
It was a very large mental health center. They had one 4 story building for children who needed therapy, then they had the larger adult section at the other end of the property. The adult section included a day treatment program, they had social workers for those in group homes and such that handled their money and other affairs of those not well enough to do it themselves, groups, individual therapy and they had a 3 ward psychiatric ward. That's where things got out of control, the 3 ward psychiatric ward.
Up till this point, I had managed to keep control of the nightmares and flashbacks of the abuse when I was in the psych ward as a child. It was there, but I was able to live a pretty normal life. However working at the psychiatric hospital, I knew I was going to have problems.
I accepted the site as I needed a stable pay check, but asked that very same day to be moved to a different location as soon as one was open. I figured I could probably keep it together for a short time. I figured something would be found in a few weeks.
Well, a few weeks turned into months. I had already began having problems there due to being exposed to the psych ward during my shift. If that wasn't hard enough, I was having difficulties with the staff.
Because of the stress from working at the mental health center I decided to disclose my AB side to my mom, her boyfriend and my brother. Since I lived with all of them and they would most likely find out soon I felt they all needed to know.
I had reached a point where the stress caused from hiding being AB was getting to be too much. Being AB helped me to be calm, to relax. And I had reached a point where I wished to expand on my role playing to be more than just a pacifier or a baby bottle.
When I told my mom about it, as one can expect she had many questions. I did my best to answer as many questions as I was able to. Some of the questions I still didn't have answers to myself. All I knew was I was tired of not being able to have AB furniture or AB clothing and stuff because I had to be hiding all this.
So once my mom was told about my AB side I began to slowly buy the AB things I wanted to make the role play more fun. I got my first sleeper about 2 weeks later from a AB who didn't want it anymore.
And about 2 months later I built my first prototype adult size crib. The original was made of only paper. I took sheets of printer paper and folded the sheets into 2 inch wide bars and stapled them all together to form bars. Once the bars were created it gave me the dimensions to make the wooden crib.
2 weeks after I made the paper bars prototype I made a list of supplies needed and after my mom left for work I took my bicycle and a cart that attaches to it and went to Home Depot to buy the supplies. Then I went home and started construction. In about 6 hours I had it all together and in working order. You can see pictures and a description "HERE".
I didn't plan on showing my mom the crib the way she did. She came home from work and came upstairs and opened my door to ask me something. I don't know because she didn't do what she came in to do. She stopped in her tracks a few feet into the room, looked at the crib and kept repeating "oh my god, oh my god" while walking backward out of the room. So it didn't go as well as I had expected.
When I first shared my AB side with her, her first response was "What will people think?". I didn't plan on telling every single person I came in contact with about it. I only told her, her boyfriend John and my brother because they all live with me and were bound to find out sooner or later.
It was my mom who decided to bring in the apartment building manager and co-workers from work she was friends with to see the crib. So if she was so worried about people finding out, then why bring people around to see the crib and other AB things I have? I didn't understand that.
Anyway, back to working at the mental health center. During 9-10pm they had a shift change where staff for the next shift would come and need to be let in. However at the same time I would get calls from the staff on the psych wards for roll away beds for patients when they had more patients than they had beds. Everything I tried to do to get both jobs done failed. I was one guard and doing two jobs at once just wasn't going to work. But I tried anyway.
First, I tried leaving the door to get the beds and then let in anyone who had to wait. They didn't have to wait longer than 10 minutes at the most. I was reported for making the staff wait to be let in. So the next night I waited at the door and had the staff asking for the beds wait till 10pm. I got reported for not getting the beds.