12. Sorta Like The Brady Bunch

I was a pretty good kid, but had just started recovering from severe depression and (unknown at the time) ptsd. Up until that point I had been extremely docile and almost robotic. Then the meds started working and I "woke up" and started acting more like a normal young teen. My mom was not prepared for this. She overreacted and sent me to a group home for troubled teens in oceanside California.

Unlike most of the places in this thread, we weren't in lock down. Once the parents left, the intake person told each incoming resident that they were free to leave any time, and could be tossed out at any time. The transit center is two miles west, there's a bus stop down the block, and the freeway entrance is thataway if you want to hitchhike. Feel free. They made it clear that they would notify the police and the parents, but they would not try to stop you. Only one person walked out during my stay. Once we realized we weren't trapped, it made it easier to concentrate on things other than escape.

The center was a converted upper middle class house that was in the middle of a residential neighborhood, and you'd never know it was there. Boys were upstairs, girls downstairs, and the more trusted residents got the granny flat. The counseling office was in the converted garage, and there was a classroom that had once been a large sunroom with a view of the ocean and a deck. The staff were the most laid back people you can imagine. They wouldn't tolerate rule breaking or disrespect, but they'd joke around with the residents, and if we had been really good (and they had the munchies) they'd gather us up and we'd walk to the nearest 7/11 for snacks.

We had chores assigned daily, and every day we'd have to sit through some presentation. Sometimes it was the police, sometimes a career counselor, many times it was a public health nurse. We loved her because she'd hand out free condoms. Not just the utilitarian ones. She knew kids would be more likely to use the fun ones. Glow in the dark, textured, humorous, and of course flavored. At one point, the staff walked in the room to see the nurse showing us close up photos of std ridden genitals while we sucked on mint flavored condoms. Dude walked right back into his office.

I think what really made this program work was not only the relative freedom we had, but that it held our parents accountable as well. Every single resident had parents who fucked them up. So the parents were required to return and attend counseling as well. However, it was stressed that despite our parent's failures, we couldn't use them to excuse our own behavior. We had to have standards for ourselves. Honestly, I think parents would have a lot more success if they sent their kids to places like this, rather than those hardline horror camps. I actually had a decent experience there, though there is a part of me that can never forgive my mom for sending me away in the first place.Source