indomara

i honestly had no idea that it was possible to fix such a thing, i had inverted nipples as a teen, but after breastfeeding theyre fine.

as a girl here, i would be way interested myself in seeing a clearer "before", even if its cropped to further hide your identity!

from me to your boyfriend: please! for science! inquiring minds want to know!

i grew up in group homes. i was sent from home to home to home my entire childhood, when i was 12 i was in a 6 bed, never did anything bad, always took the meds they shoveled at me... why would i cause trouble? homes were all i knew.

one day my social worker came, said they found a new opening for me. i begged, said i didnt want to go to a new home, i was in my first public school, i loved it there. she said "just come check it out, if you dont like it, you dont have to stay."

we get there and its a nondescript three story brick building in a business area, walk in through magnetically locking doors to be greeted with that institution smell that never goes away. apparently my group home ... i guess company? "olive crest" had just bought this old mental hospital, and i would be one of the first 6 girls in this huge building they were going to call RTC or the residential treatment center.

shudder

after a tour of the empty "unit" that had been cleared enough to house 6 girls, the old nurses station complete with beds that have straps for restraining patients, the little enclosed court yard and school style cafeteria, the endless inch thick windows that didnt open, i was freaked out. half of the third floor, the whole second floor, and part of the first floor werent clear yet, and had medical records, devices, etc strewn about.

we left, me telling my social worker that there was no way i would live there.

another week went by, and my social worker came to get me again. she said the place had been worked on, was coming together, i should come to just take "one more look". i knew it was a bad idea, i knew it was, but what choice did i have? so i went for one more look.

we get up to the third floor, past all those locking doors, and she tells me im staying there. i cry and i plead, and i beg, i ran after her crying and begging, telling her PLEASE dont leave me there. please. the new nurse hired to staff the nursing station saw what went down, that i had been lied to, and screamed at my social worker. she hugged me and told me she was so sorry... but it didnt matter.

i was one of the original six residents at RTC.

the days ran into each other, endless days spent indoors, or in the little courtyard. the work on the building continued, and more residents trickled in over the years. there was a rigid schedule of group and single therapy, schedule charts, filing down to the cafeteria in shifts, one hour outside time in the courtyard, and attending the on site school. my medications were upped as i got more and more depressed. i stopped eating, they started mixing my food with corn starch to make me gain weight, i dropped to 94 lbs by 14.

i thought about suicide for the first time. my periods started coming backwards from the stress, i would bleed for 20-25 days, stop for a week or so. when the nurse finally figured it out, i was put on yet two more pills, a birth control pill and iron pills.

after nearly two years the building was full, school fully functional. a whole little world encased in brick and inch thick glass. cars driving by with no idea that this building here was filled with children.

it came time to graduate into the next grade, i was 14. i realized... i couldnt remember anything about what i had learned in the last four months. everything was so hazy from the meds, (2500 mg. of depakote with a few other little pills in there too, a scary dose for any child, let alone one underweight.) i literally had no recollection of what i had learned... and they were passing me. that was the day i knew, i knew i had to get out of there or i would die there.

i had never fought the system before. i had never run away, i wasnt a violent child, i was completely institutionalized, i had never even had access to cable tv. i always took the meds they gave me, didnt fight or start trouble, but i knew i had to get out. one night, late in the night, when we were only staffed by one staff per unit, i got dressed in the bright blue sweats we all lived in, and told the staff member i was sick.

now, to open the magnetically locked doors, you either needed a key the staff wore on their wrists, or you need to set off the fire alarm which opens all doors in the building using a key. (also around their wrists)

opening doors one by one would take too long, so i waited til she was distracted calling the on call nurse on the phone, snatched the keyring off her wrist, and ran my ass off to the end of the unit. i used the key to set off the fire alarm and ran for my life (and it WAS my life) down the fire escape steps and finally out into the parking lot behind the building.

i was chased to the end of the busy street (again, this is a business district in a pretty large town in california, so plenty of cars out at night.) and i just kept running. i didnt know where i was going, didnt know what to do, but i kept running til i made it to a hospital. i used a phone booth there to call my druggie mother collect, told her to come get me, and where i was, then i hid in the bushes til she came.

it took me months if not years to get over the effects that place had on me. even on the streets, i gained weight. i was completely unprepared for reality outside the homes, and that had all its many benefits and downfalls.

... just thought id share my little tale of what those places are like for someone who ISNT a violent, murdering, or awful child. just a misplaced kid lost in the system. sorry its long.

TLDR: kid who lived in one of these, it was the worst place you can imagine, runs away and never lets them take her again.

special bonus edit! google maps street view of the building itself! here to the right youll see a three story brick building with a gas station behind it to the left. its been turned into an urgent care now apparently, (thank god.) but if you pan down the street two buildings, youll see olive crest's orange county offices!

Aww, that sounds like a sweet picture! I'd love to see it! :)

hehe well if you ever do be sure to post it.

Often, bathrooms place the changing table IN the handicapped stall, so it does become second nature to use it when you have little ones and their stroller and whatnot with you.

I always tried to be fast. thankfully, I've never come across the situation of a handicapped person needing it while we were using it.