This post is not to deter from any other survivor who has told their story. This is my story. They have their own stories which deserve just as much if not more attention than mine does. It has taken me 16+ years to tell my story to the world. This post barley scratches the surface of my story though. It is a long post too. You may look at the photos and see me as a smiling and happy teen but that is far from the truth. I was in a dark place in my mind and an even darker place in person. I feel it is my time, my right, and my duty to #breakcodesilence. Many have seen the documentary with Paris Hilton but these stories have been told for a longer time period and ignored. Now is our time as survivors to step up and tell our stories…. this is mine.
I was 15 and at a boarding school in Connecticut called Canterbury. It was a normal prep/boarding school. I was struggling academically by choice and  because I wasn’t comprehending some things. I was skipping class constantly and creating lies. I told everyone I received an email saying my biological father had died. It was my attempt to get attention. I was failing school and only doing well in the theatre program and swim team. I had made friends but alienated a lot of people as well. I was taken for testing and psych evaluations. They recommended seeing an Educational Conaultant. That was the beginning of what even my family would come to see as the start of even worse times in my life.
My consultant who recommended a lot of other children to the same program recommend I go to Hidden Lake Academy. Her name was Jean Hague. My eval said I needed to be somewhere with therapeutic benefits and an established theatre program. My counselors I was lucky to have because they actually tried to help us. A lot were not as lucky as I was in the counseling department. I was truly blessed with the two counselors I had. There was no established theatre program either. I was withdrawn from Canterbury and brought to HLA by my Aunt and Uncle. The school was nestled in the mountains of Dalonegha,GA. It turns out hell looks awfully pretty. Brochures showed kids riding horses, a pool, and smiling teens. The setting seemed to be perfect for what my family thought was going to be a great place. Immediately upon arrival I was told a list of rules including limited contact with the opposite sex. I was there to focus on Adam not Adam and Eve for sure not Adam and Steve.
From this moment everything changed. I was taken to a room where my belongings were being rooted through. I was told all my cds were to be donated to the school. At this moment all my clothes were takin to be monogrammed with my initials. I was then escorted to a bathroom by a rather large guy and told to hand over my clothes. He then instructed me to squat , cup my testicles, cough , and turn in a circle. I was 15 being stripped searched for what would be the 1st of 50 times probably.
I was taken to general student population and thrown to the wolves. There was no pool, horses or smiling teens .This school taught all of us to be against each other. It was worse than any high school bullies or cliques. I was right away told I was gay, a fag, a bitch, and mutiple other things. I was compared to a student who was there before me that was gay. He was not me nor was I him but older students thought it funny to point out similarities and make fun of me for those similarities. I found my group though. It was the losers club basically. They would become my life long friends though. We were all bullied by students and staff though. I wasn’t aware yet of the deep dark secrets this place held. My first night was filled with hazing from night staff, kids snorting laundry detergent or acne pills and screams in the night.
My first few weeks went by without event for the most part other than the night time rituals. In therapy we really hadn’t begun to dig to the root of problems yet. They had something called restrictions. For those that got into trouble we were placed in single file lines after school. They would then Have us do army PT or calisthenics and what amounted to child labor in the afternoons. We dug trenches, built staircases, cleaned the property, cleaned students sheets, cleaned dumpsters with a toothbrush, carried downed telephone polls from one location to turn right back around and take them where they had been, and we did writing assignments. Things such as a 30 page life story, 10 pages on why you held hands with someone, 5 pages defining what oppositional meant. All this was meant to be therapeutic. I stayed out of trouble for about 4 months until I got restrictions for being in a relationship.
Relationships here meant hand holding in secret, whispering and just basic human contact. Some obviously went further than others but we were teenagers with no freedom or semblance of teen child hood. When I got to restrictions the first time I knew it was bad. I was out of shape being degraded by military personnel. I was called every name under the sun. I was fed moldy cheese sandwiches and warm Gatorade that at times had been peed in. Eating was already rough as sometimes you had 5 min for an entire meal and sometimes you missed a meal due to chores. The food was mediocre but on restrictions it got worse. We were marched around campus and told to do random chores all while being barked at by people who thought they were tougher than they were. These people made it their mission to humiliate us and degrade us.
As time went by therapy opened up. Yet this wasn’t normal group therapy. We were forced to talk about the worst of things in our life. Yet when I opened up in letter to my family about sexual abuse it was never discussed in my therapy. My counselors didn’t have the control we thought they did. There was someone above them telling them how to operate and what to focus on. It wasn’t till years later that the abuse I endured as a child was talked about by some of my family. The school focused on my addictive personality instead during therapy. My aunt was told she was an enabler by addictions staff who was not certified to be practicing as I later found out. At this point I had drank once and smoked weed once and for that I was labeled an addict and sent to AA and NA.
I watched as things around me got worse. I saw a 90lb female get sat on by a 300 lb male staff until she went purple. Kids were cutting themselves, attempting suicide, running away and all the while I kissed ass to staff so I didnt have to endure punishment. I was rarely on restrictions maybe 7 times over 2 years which was pretty damn lucky. Most were on atleast once a month. My relationship with my family seemed to be getting better even though they were already  struggling with some of the ideals of the school. Although at 5-7 grand a month you trust what the school says. At this point the schools was already stealing money. They proposed a chapel that never got built, another pool, trips all sorts of things.
My program was the longest in school history at 27 months after my group came together. I would end up graduating high school with the equivalent of a fake degree . I saw numerous students hurt physically, mentally, emotionally during my time there. Some disappeared and we never knew what happened or found out years later. We were all being brainwashed to believe that we were safe. In reality we weren’t. Students were being sexually and mentally abused. Psychological warfare at its best being used against teens and some that were not even teens yet. We were pitted against each other. They made us do what they called fall out. Basically ratting on each other and you had to sit there until you told on others. They made examples out of you to put others against you.
I decided while there to join a theatre production . It was one of the best memories I have of there but the production was as dark as the school. It involved a gang rape, burning a baby alive, and death. It was extremely dark. Music was limited to what was on the jukebox or if we were lucky the radio but only certain stations. We got to go off campus sometimes to pan for gold or a movie if we had been there awhile. We celebrated birthdays with a frozen cake and we got mauled by everyone we hated for a piece of that cake. We fought each other constantly and we backstabbed each other constantly. This was our life.
Nights were generally sleeping with a door open and a hallway light blasting In your
Face. We had to ask permission to go to the bathroom. Nightstaff patrolled hallways and used their power against us. I saw students get assaulted by night staff. I myself slept under a desk on night after getting repeatedly kicked by a night staff. We only had 30 min to shower and do chores and get ready for class in the morning. It was either class or therapy first thing. After class was restrictions, sports or doing laps around the lake or field. Then dinner and homework and bed to start all over again.
We had to do special therapy sessions as well. One in front of the whole school and staff. This is where I broke about halfway through my program. I had to tell a girl In front of every staff and student that I wasn’t interested in her. In front of 200 people I had to publicly shame her. I was then forced to read a letter to the man I just found out wasn’t my father . The next day I had to do this all over again In front of family. I broke. I became a facade. I was so bubbly and happy on the outside but inside I was dying. I was tired of seeing my friends hurt in so many ways. I was tired of hurting.
There were so many hidden horrors that I discovered. They were attempting conversion therapy even though the owner was gay. Extorting money for our parents. Charging obscene amounts like $10 for suave body wash. Lying about therapy and programs at the school. If we told our parents any thing about what happened our parents were told we were lying and manipulating. If you got into enough trouble they shipped you off to wilderness programs to bring you right back and keep doing the awful things they did. Girls talked of sexual abuse and so did a few of the guys. We watched staff hurt and restrain kids in improper and illegal ways. All the while our parents were not aware and pumping money into the school. They always dressed  up the campus for parents and perspective parents as well. They would buy inflatables and have carnival days where all the students would be together and while it was the most fun we had in a long time they capitalized and took photos on these days. Same with graduation days. Parents always saw smiling kids when these smiles happens maybe once or twice a year really. Our parents thought it was all the time. These photos were put in brochures and monthly magazines for our parents. It wasn’t the real reality though.
I finally graduated after 27 months. I was sent back to the Ed Consultant for college decisions. I so wanted to go to UGA but it was recommended I go to a small school where I could be watched better. I went from no freedom to everything ounce of freedom and no in between. Other than a few teachers HLA did not academically prepare anyone for college. I became an horrific person after HLA. I lied, stole, started doing different drugs, drinking nightly, skipping class again. I was a horrible human being to my family. When I stole it was money from them. The person everyone thought I was after leaving HLA wasn’t who I was. I was a monster with no guidance or preparation for what the real world was.
I spent 6 years destroying everyone family relationship I could and pushing everyone around me away. I didn’t trust anyone and refused to ask for help cause after  years of asking for help at HLA I thought it was a lost cause. It took me a long time to realize that my family was still there for me and still loved me even after all I did.
I will never blame my family for sending me to HLA. They didn’t know what was happening and they were told not to listen to anything I may say about the place. I had already lost trust and they didn’t know what to do. I love my family and hold no grudges for the choices the made. They did what they thought best. They never could have foreseen the horrors of HLA. My relationship has gotten so much better with my family in the past 7 years though.
There are very few records of students from HLA. Transcripts and financials were lost in a fire that a lot of us assume was set by someone that was working there. Psych records were found and burned by the new  property owners. There was a lawsuit that amounted to maybe a few hundred per family involved. The owner Len got was was equivalent to a slap on the wrist after the abuse that happened there. Staff wasn’t paid and children were hurt and he walked away with a fine basically. The school was accredited at times as well and many don’t actually have high school transcripts. There were numerous unlicensed staff or under qualified staff . A majority of the day staff were students from the local college. They were barely older than us and being told how to handle these unruly children. Some loved the position and took pride in their power while others were actually there trying to help is and were good people.
I will always  be thankful for the friends I made at HLA . Everyone of them made me a stronger better person. We have lost so many though to drugs or suicide and it breaks my heart.
I turned my life around and am thankful for where I am at. I still have nightmares about HLA. I still have panic or anxiety attacks due to HLA. I scarf food down without breathing cause of HLA. I dont trust many but those I do I overly trust to the point it hurts me sometimes cause of HLA. I have confidence issues cause of HLA. I have ptsd cause of HLA….. yes I can proudly say….
I am a survivor! I am a strong man who can get through anything. I am proud of who I am and as much as I may hate it I don’t regret my past. It lead me to where I am.