The beginning of the wilderness experience comes in many forms for different people. Some volunteer for the experience, looking to turn their lives around. More are pressured heavily into treatment (by parents or other authoritative or guidance figures.) Others are physically forced to go, “gooned”—although only technically legal with minors, some parents will resort to physical force and heavy threats if their child does not comply.

This was the experience of Sofia, a 22 year-old recent graduate of USC. “My parents gooned me and I went to a wilderness program in Hawaii to better learn how to handle my anxiety,” she explains. She came home to an intervention of sort, as her parents explained that she did not have a choice; she would go to wilderness if she wanted to remain in their lives or supported in any way.

In a matter of hours, hired “goons” had escorted her, in a large child-locked SUV, to LAX, dragged her through security and watched her walk on the plane to Hawaii. Her parents said their goodbyes at home.



This opens a huge issue for people in wilderness therapy, as well as other forms of treatment or rehabilitation: trust. As a client in a wilderness therapy program (or any other rehab or therapy program) you must place a very large amount of trust in the expertise of strangers. In intensive treatment, every aspect of the way that you live is brought into question. Your belief systems, behaviors, thoughts, and emotions are all analyzed and transformed, one step at a time. An immense amount of power lies with the therapists (and, in Wilderness therapy, also with the staff) to re-sculpt the live of clients. Therapist and wilderness staff can push clients as hard as they want, but for real, lasting change, the client must want to change for him or herself. They need to be willing to be vulnerable and open, to do things that terrify them—all with the trust that the staff knows what is best and that the experience will benefit them in the end.

For example, during his or her first week everyone must tell a “life story”—a telling of everything that lead to the individual joining the program. Essentially, a life story is a telling of one’s most private, painful and often shameful parts of his or her life—an d all of this is shared with people that he or she has just met. This is hard for anyone, but particularly for students in wilderness therapy, almost all of who struggle with some form of anxiety. Group therapy sessions are held every day, run by specific students. Closet doors are open and skeletons pulled out, examined and broken down. Students are challenged to face their fears and issues: those with social anxiety may run nightly monologue groups, forcing them into public speaking. Those with history of abusive relationships are helped to set boundaries with family and friends, maintain them, and advocate for what they need. Those with substance abuse problems are forced to look into the underlying issues that engendered their use etc.

However, not everyone is willing to dive right in to his or her problems. Many people try to leave, some even resorting to literally making a break for it. It is in these cases that the trust between the staff and student is really tested. Many programs will essentially trap students in the wilderness, forbidding contact with family or friends, and pushing parents to try and level their child’s determination to leave with threats of discontinued support or interaction. For the staff, this situation is tough but they see is as a drastic means to an end—the end being making sure that the student is safe and pulls through their issues. However, it seems apparent that from the student’s view, this seems like a huge betrayal and manipulation—and could possibly undo some of the very work that the staff has being trying to enact during their time in wilderness. “Now, nearly six months after the fact, I still reflect on my wilderness adventure as an overall positive experience,” Sofia explains, “though I don’t think I will ever trust my parents in quite the same way anymore. Sometimes I still feel like I am picking up pieces of the life that I left behind.”