Hello:
Welcome to my personal page. I take it since you are here that you would like to know who I am. This page covers my life from age 10 (Since that is as far back as I can remember for some reason)-present. This page in no way is here to get attention or sympathy. It merely is here to give some insight into my life for those who want to know. Nothing more. So here goes....
Well first off my name is Stanley. I am 28 years old. I was born on December 26th 1980. I am the oldest of three. I have a brother who is 3 years younger than me and a sister who passed away when I was 7 (I am told, I don't remember her, just seen pictures). I am currently living with my best friend Sandra in Redding California.
I have been the owner of this site since it opened in July 2000. I have come to meet so many wonderful people since the site opened. I opened the site when my search for support sites for adult bed wetting/day wetting and sites for AB's with no fighting or name calling was nowhere to be found (at that time anyway). I decided since such a place wasn't out there, that I would create it.
I made a place where people could come and talk about their problems without being in fear of being made fun of or attacked. A place to find information about a problem that frankly most people rarely even disclose to their medical doctor out of embarrassment, however the person they fear embarrassment from is one of the people who could help them most. But the plus side of having a web site like this is you can talk about your problem without having to look anyone in the face, you don't have to tell anyone your name. It's totally anonymous if you want to be. Some ask "Why both things together, why not two seperate sites?" Well that breaks down to two reasons. The first is the Bed Wetting, I have been bed wetting since I was 13, and day wetting since age 20. There wasn't much support for that out there, at least not for adults. A few message boards here and there with very few posts. It was hard being young with the problem such as bed wetting and thinking your the only one. Had a found a site such as this one back then, it would have been alot of help to connect to others with the same problem and have others to go through it with together. And that's part of our goal here, to help people through this problem. Let them know they are not alone in it and they have a place to turn for help and support. Then about the ABDL section. I didn't know what AB was until I got my first computer around mid 2000. Before that I had no idea why I had a desire to have a crib, why I wanted a baby bottle so bad along with other baby items. All I knew is I wanted them, and for some strange reason they made me feel safe when I had them. At the time I thought I was crazy. I went through many stages of bingeing and purgeing of the items, just to collect them all over again. Once I got my computer and researched what it was I understood what it was in my case. For me, the AB is a safty thing, like a safty blanket. So because I am both a bed wetter AND a adult baby, I joined them to make the name of the site "BedwettingABDL". I do try to keep them seperate for the most part. However there are some pages that are jointly used on the site, including the message board. With the new message board server though, we are no longer sharing the chat room. There is one for bed wetters, and one for the AB/TB/DL's. As to why I became AB, that is for a few reasons. One is because of the bed wetting and using diapers to manage it. It was a way to cope with being in diapers. When I looked back to find the reason for the AB a bit deeper, I remembered a time when I was younger that I was in a diaper. Not for long, but I recall it. I was at my grandma's for the day and walked down to the corner store. On the way I had a messing accident. I went back to my grandma's and she took my pants and underwear and tossed em in the washer. I was visiting and didn't have anything else. She was babysitting at the time and put a diaper on me. Why a diaper and not a towel or something, best I could guess is she was afraid I was sick and might have another accident. I don't know. I just remember sitting on the chair in the living room in a diaper waiting for the clothes to finish washing. Was that the cause for the whole AB feelings? I don't know. But I think it helped to fuel it. I was uncomfortable sitting there like that, but at the same time, I felt safe. I always felt safe around my grandma. (On my dad's side anyway).
The other thing I think fueled it alot was the abuse. I came from a very abusive home. Alot of my relitives were absive either hitting me or they would be mentally abusive through yelling, calling me names, telling me I was worthless, pulling my hair, throwing hot sauce in my eyes, putting things in my food, sending me to psych hospitals as punishment...All kinds of things. My dad would get drunk and beat me and my brother. I took the blame for my brother as often as I could. I figured since I was older, that I could take it. My mom was a bit more creative. She was emotionally abusive. When I did something she didn't like or got in trouble at school she would call the psychiatric hospital and tell them I was suicidal and have them hold me for a 72 hour evaluation or longer so she didn't have to ground or punish me herself. Or I would be threatened with being sent back. I would get abused by the staff in the hospital many times while I was there.
The schools were no different, I was often hurt at school, by both students and staff members. I got the normal beattings from the bullies. But I the staff did their own things. Got locked in their "time out" rooms, held down on the floor with the dude putting his elbow into my shoulder blade till I was screaming all because I didn't give him my pen I had gotten at the 99 cent store that he sware was his. Had my lunch kept from me because I couldn't get any higher with how many flash cards I could do in 30 seconds. Staff members would call me gay for looking them in the eye when they spoke to me. Or called me white boy or some other name to get me angry so I would try to leave the room to cool down, and slam me on the floor and "restrain" me, saying I was "going off".
There was a time, I felt so out of place with my family. I was so sure I was adopted. I went online signing up for sites looking for my "real" parents. I was so sure the way I was treated, that it had to be because I was adopted or something. That I didn't belong to this family. I was, and still is nothing like them. 99% of my family is very violent. But I on the other hand avoid fighting whenever possible and try to walk away. I HATE violence. So I figured I couldn't be from this family.
So being AB was an escape for me. Still is. When I am in my room, or the crib, I feel safe. I pretend that I belong to a different family, a loving one. That they are right outside my room, and I don't have to worry about being hurt. It's a nice way to relax. I also use it to deal with the bed wetting/day wetting as I mentioned above. I found being AB has helped me deal with ALOT. It helps me deal with being in diapers for the bed wetting, and dealing with the trauma in my childhood abuse. It's got me through many hard times. And the proof in that is that I am here today to tell the story. So with that said let me tell you how things came to be. On November 26th 1990 which is where my memory is the clearest, I got up and went to school at Cypress Elementry school in Covina California. I lived in a apartment building 4 blocks from the school called the Select Suites. We were living in a small 2 bedroom apartment off of Citrus and Arrow Highway in Covina California at the time.
I had been having many problems at school. I got in trouble and suspended alot. Mostly for not doing my school work. I had a lot of problems sitting still and keeping my attention on track. Thinking about it now it was likely that I had undiagnosed ADHD, since I was diagnosed with adult ADHD in mid 2008. It would explain alot of the problems I was having back then. And had I had the proper treatment, perhaps things would have turned out a bit different. Who knows.
Around this time during summer vacation me and my brother flew out east to visit out aunt and uncle. The visit all in all was alright. But it was hard on my brother. He was still bed wetting and my aunt had a hard time dealing with it. She took him to the store in town and got a pair of plastic pants. Nothing inside, just the plastic pants. How she thought these would be a help I don't know. After dinner she had him put them on, and she checked him to make sure they were on before bed. And because there was no cloth diaper inside or anything to absorbe the pee, they leaked. It made the visit hard for him. About 3 months after returning, we were visiting my grandma on my mom's side. My mom wanted some "Space". My grandma was pretty mean. My brother had wet the bed there and she went to the woman next door who had a toddler and got a diaper. She came in the door and with the diaper in her hand she told him if he wet the bed again, she would put the diaper on him. He was scared, you could see it in his eyes. She put it on the coffee table for him to look at all day. However that night, instead of the diaper, she had him sleep in the bath tub for the week we were there. It was because of my the way my brother was treated for his bed wetting, that I was scared to tell anyone about mine.
She was doing other things like putting hot sauce in his food, but I warned him before he ate it. She just liked messing with us. I remember I got angry at her and yelled at her and they cried on the sofa. I forget what it was about. But she walked over to me and was talking all nice and said "let grandma see your eyes", when I turned over she shot the hot sauce into my eyes. I couldn't see for the longest time. I couldn't believe she had done that. Thankfully the week didn't last long.
Summer was over and I was back in school. However I got suspended for not doing my work. My parents would like, play school. My mom the teacher, and my dad the principle. I would get fustraighted as always from the work. My mom took that as refusing to do my work and had my dad punish me. If it wasn't a actual spanking, he did the book holding thing. He would have me stand with my arms out and palms up. He would place 2 dictonaries in each palm and tell me to hold it for 30 minutes. If I dropped them, I would be spanked a few times, and the whole time would start over. I dropped them alot. I just wasn't strong enough to hold books out that long.
Anyway a few weeks later I had gotten into some trouble at school again. The incident in and of itself I can't remember all of the details of. What I do remember of the day is of me sitting outside the principles office waiting for my parents to come out in the afternoon hours. Close to around 2PM or 3PM. The story I got from my mom made no sence. She tried to tell me I took a plastic easter egg to school with two marbles in it and siad it was a bomb. Why would I do that? As I said, I am not violent, and the whole thing makes no sence. And to top it off, I have a very hard time believing this story for two reasons. One there were no police called to the school, or a bomb squad to check out the so called "bomb". Which would be called if there was a bomb. So I find it hard to believe. What really happened, I don't know. But I don't buy the story I was given.
So I think something of the story is missing. But because I can't recall what happened myself, I have no way of knowing. Although I am hoping with therapy later in the future may at some point unlock these hidden memories and finally tell me what really happened that day and many other days that are still missing at this time.
Anyway, I was told the principle had given my parents a choice. Either I could be sent to a children's detention center (jail for kids) till I was 21 or I could be committed to a children's psychiatric hospital. My mom choose the second and had me committed to the children's ward of Charter Oak Hospital in Covina California. I begged and begged not to be left there, but it didn't matter. I made a movie (I know, not the best) based from the nightmares and flashbacks from the abuse there. If you wish to see the movie just click here. It's just basically a walkthrough of the hospital as seen through my eyes in the nightmares. Well, as best you can get with paint program.
I was given a room and explained the rules. Well wasn't long before I messed up and saw what I would recall every night for the rest of my life. It was the inside of a solitary restraint room. And it wouldn't be the last time I would see one.
I was at the gym with some of the other kids, but really didn't feel like playing basket ball and was just sitting in a chair by the sideline. I was told if I didn't want to play I could go back to the ward, I figured ok, I will go back to the ward and just lay down in my room and try to get some sleep. I was taken back to the ward, but instead of going to my room, I was dragged into the solitary room and pushed in. The deadbolt on the door was locked, as was the 3 slide locks (one at the top, one in the middle of the door, and one at the bottom.) I was locked in and left there.
I was left there for over 3 hours. A time out for a 10 year old I can understand. Maybe 20 minutes for messing up. Got it, but 3 hours? What made it worse is I didn't know how long I would be in there, they never told me. Or how long I had already been in there. There was no clock. So every minute seemed like hours. And there was no one to talk to. No one could hear you scream. It was very scary. I didn't know how long I was in there until I got out and saw the clock in the day room. I didn't even do anything to anyone. All I did was refuse to play baskit ball, I was still upset for being left at that place. Well I made it through the "time out" without freaking out. I made myself a promise to give myself the strength I needed to make it through the stay and give myself some sense of control over what was going on around me at the time that in reality, I really had no control over. I promised myself that at age 18 if I made it, my reward would be I could kill myself with no regrets and be sure it never happened again, that no one could hurt me again. And that gave me incredible strength.
I knew no matter what they did to me (my parents, the hospital staff, the teachers and aids at school....I could take it), I would be able to make sure they could never do it again in 8 years. And that got me through so much. As a kid I had little power over what happened to me, this just gave me a sense of much needed control over my life.
The schools my mom sent me to... Sunflower Elementary school in Glendora California. A special education school. Bullies would pick on me and because staff didn't see it, to them it didn't happen, I was making it up. So it continued. But I had my promise to keep me going. So day in day out I was beat up and picked on and I just existed. I would leave class to get away and staff from the school's "time out room" would come and take me to the solitary room they had on the grounds behind the office.
Soon after the situation that was going on at Sunflower, we moved to El Monte California. I transferred out of Sunflower to a whole new school. Not nearly as many problems there. Things were going ok for me at the new house and the new school as well. I made friends and was doing alright in school as well. I even had a pretty good relationship with my teacher. He seemed to understand me. I was now 12 by this time.
However things didn't last. Things were about to change again. My mom and my dad got a divorce and my dad had gotten custody of me and my brother. My dad had a bad side of his own. He would get drunk and beat me and my brother. His favorite remark after a beating was "Look what you made me do". As if our actions were forcing his hand to not just hit us, but beat us. And at the time we did think that we did do the things to deserve it as he said. But of course now we know that it was not the case. But that was a cake walk compared to what happened to me in the hospital, and what I would have to go through in the future.
After about 6 months in El Monte we moved back Baldwin Park California into a 2 bedroom apartment on Bresee Ave. I has started bed wetting a few months after being there. I kept it a secret for fear of being treated how my brother was for his bed wetting. I was buying diapers and wore them a few minutes before bed, and took them out to the trash when no one was home. I started going back to Sunflower again and of course the problems started again with the bullies. Of course nothing was done. Then there was a incident at Sunflower were a therapist at the school made a false child abuse report which had me and my younger brother Jonathan removed from the home and placed with our grandparents on my dad's side for a month.
I had been bed wetting for about 3-4 months and growing tired of the wet sheets I decided to try diapers. The 99 cent store sold 4 diapers for a dollar. So I bought a pack to try. They worked out alright so I was using diapers to cut down on having to do laundry all the time.I was friends with this kid. But I didn't know him too well. He lived near by so he came over for a bit to hang out. I caught him playing with a lighter trying to light stuff on fire. I told him he had to go home. He got angry and made up a story to the school therapist. He told her that my and my brother (I was almost 13, and my brother was about 10) that we were taking 40 year old men off the street, dragging them (yea, with force) up to the apartment and tieing them to my dad's bed and preforming sexual acts. How ANY therapist could buy that story is beyond me. But they did. The cops and child services showed up. I made a call to my grandparents (on my dad's site) and we got placed with them instead of some foster home. I had to tell my grandma about the bed wetting. I got some diapers which she kept hidden for me and I just got them as I needed. My grandpa didn't know, and my brother didn't know. She was great about respecting privacy and all, and she never teased me about it. I would tell her were the used one was (normally under my bed) and she would throw it out after everyone was gone. She was great. I could tell her anything, and she always wanted to help me out if she could. After a month at the children's court, the child abuse charge was unfounded and the therapist lost her job and licence to practice. I was then transferred to Sandburg Jr High School in Glendora California. I had a few problems there as well. I had a problem with the teachers treating me like a preschooler. For example I would be doing my school work and they would come along and put 3 or 4 M&M's on my desk and say "Good job for doing your work quietly". Like I needed to be rewarded for doing my work quietly. It ticked me off, made me feel like a little kid. Ok, I am AB. I am AB at home, in the privacy of my room. Not at school. When I was at school, I was an adult...or a teen in that case. You know what I mean. So we got into a few arguments about how they treated me. In addition to that, I started seeing a new therapist there. Him I actually liked. We got along well.
But all good things must come to an end I guess. This one day was nothing but trouble from the second I got off the bus. The kid started messing with me right off the bus. Then me and this staff member got into a verbal argument. Then I got angry and stepped out the classroom. Not a problem. I hung out at the track, just walked around the track a few times. It was rarely used. Lunch came and went, I didn't eat. About 1PM I was sitting on the grass outside the classroom.
The teacher decided to make things worse. She had the regular education classroom stop what they were doing and come out to where I was and tell me how bad I am and how immature I was being and so on. How I was disturbing everyone (how I was doing that by sitting on the grass quietly I don't know). This went on for about 20 minutes. Finally they went back into the classroom. Half hour later my dad was called to pick me up. Why they didn't call my dad to pick me up hours ago was beyond me.
So after that incident I was transferred to North Park High School in Baldwin Park California. And we moved to the Villa Capri apartments across town, still in Baldwin Park California.
My dad had met a girl (Brandi) who was 21 if I am not mistaken. She moved in with us shortly after. My dad and I got into several fights about all sorts of things. Me and his girlfriend got into a fight one day. Nothing physical or anything.
I was playing my radio (Music is something I often use to chill out and relax when I am upset) and she came in to unplug the radio by pulling on the plug and it snapped and hit her across the face. She took the radio and left the room. I was still upset and left my room to leave the apartment. She had my dad on the phone. She had told him what happened over the phone already and he had misunderstood it as "I" had hit her. He asked if I wanted him to come home (as a threat). I was upset and said yea.
So I went down to the apartment lobby to chill out and wait. He walked in after 20 minutes. I stood up from the chair I was sitting in for him to push me back into the chair to tell me "Don't you ever touch her again. I will kill you if you touch her again. I will go to prison for her". And he grabbed me by the shirt and walked me back to the apartment and to my room where I stayed for the night without dinner.
It was at the moment I lost any and all respect for him as a parent and he went from "Dad" to "Stan". Just someone I was living with. I did not consider him my father after that day. He was willing to kill me over a woman, who left him 4 weeks later for her old boyfriend anyway. She was using him. We still do not talk in exception to when our paths cross in a internet game (world of warcraft, kilrogg server if anyone plays. My guys name is "Stanleyt") we both happen to play on that server.
Anyway, in addition to that incident, living with him he was always either out of the house or at work so I was frequently at home alone with my brother. Not that I am complaining. When he was gone things were quiet. But at the same time there was no one to take care of things like cooking, cleaning, laundry and other things a parent is supposed to do. So those things fell on me to take care of. I had no option, I had to be the adult and take care of not only the household jobs, but help my brother with his homework and make sure he was fed and got off to school.
There was even a time he was getting picked on in school. I ditched school to sit in the back of his classroom to see who it was who was picking on him and get it sorted out. Something yet again that my parents should have been doing.
I would ditch school to take care of the laundry, more so on the mornings that I had wet sheets. I had to confront him once a week and take getting yelled at and the "What am I, made of money?" speach and him throwing a $20.00 bill on the floor and walk out the door so I could do food shopping for me and my brother for the week. That was always interesting, making a 20.00 feed two people for a week. I got creative real fast.
There was a day when my brother got me caught. Oh how nice it was when my brother grabbed the bag of diapers from under my bed and dumped it in front of my parents and in front of me one day. Boy that was a nice fight. But I just told my parents it was a fetish and the problem with my parents went away for several more years. I would have thought with my brother knowing how bed wetting feels, that he would have kept my secret. I don't know, I guess he wanted me to be punished for wetting the way he was. I never found out why he did it.
It's interesting however that they are ok about a fetish, but not ok about a wetting problem. My family gave my brother hell about his wetting problem which is why I kept mine secret. Making him sleep in a tub, threatened with diapers, made to sleep in just plastic pants. I wasn't down for that. Anyway after the fight things just continued on the same for another year or so until my mom came to take custody of me and my brother from my dad. When he was loosing the apartment.
I was now 16 and everything started again with the special education schools and the bullies. I was now living in a motel room (kitchen, bathroom and livingroom basically was the room) in Glendale California with my mom and her boyfriend John. I was enrolled in a school 2 cities over. Dubnoff Center in North Hollywood California, and that was hell. The school was mostly for children with problems with learning disabilities or from schools that they were expelled from for fighting, stealing, skipping school and all sorts of other problems. So of course I got into fights with some of the other kids.
One instance a kid wanted on the classroom computer I was on and I asked him to wait his turn. He got upset and to get back at me he spit on me. Another time a kid took my school books out of my back pack and threw them in the trash. The teacher wanted to know why I wasn't doing my work, so I explained to him that it would kind of be hard to do with the books being in the trash. Those fights didn't result in too much trouble.
The kids wanted me to fight them, I am very passive unless I am backed into a corner and forced to fight. It wasn't that I couldn't fight, I just see no reason to fight someone because I am pissed off. That's not a way to live. I have always lived under the rule of fight only when you have to. Sandra (and DJ when he was alive) will tell ya, I am a big teddy bear. Well, polar bear....lol. I love it cold. hehe. The fights that did amount to a problem was, this kid would sit in class and make sexual comments to me. We got into a major fight one afternoon when he decked me in the stomach and ran. We ran over to the basket ball court. He picked up metal bench as did I. He threw his at me and then a staff rounded the corner as I was about to put mine down. I had mine with the intent to throw it and hit his in midair to prevent being hit by it. The staff member accused me of throwing the first bench the kid had and said I was going to throw another. I was never questioned on what happened, the school went only on what they think they saw happen. Although had I not been angry and picked up that bench I would not had been accused of it. At the time it seemed like a good way to defend myself.
The fight ended with him being taken to another classroom and the door locked. Later the kid was taken to a bus and taken home. I was sitting in the lunch area at a table at this time. A staff member approached me and told me my mom wanted to talk to me on the phone. I was upset and declined the phone call. The staff member came back and we talked a bit about the incident. Not about what actually happened. Just that I should have walked away. And perhaps they were right in this case. However I felt that I let enough attacks go and I was fed up with the rule they had of "if we didn't see it, it didn't happen". I was asked to go to a classroom to finish cooling off. About 45 minutes later there was a knock at the classroom door. It was the mobile crisis team from Van Nuys Psychiatric Hospital. My heart jumped. I started to panic. They came in and got the story of what happened from the teacher and other staff. However it wasn't the whole story as they didn't see what started it. Then they wanted to talk to me and get my side. I calmly explained what happened between me and the other kid and why I was so upset and why I felt I needed to stand up for myself the way I did.
The lady and guy from the crisis team finished up their notes and stepped outside the room. I sat nervous in the classroom waiting to hear of my fate. 20 minutes later the door opens and in comes a ambulance team with a bed and set of 5 point leather restraints. I began to panic. In walks the crisis team and the kids therapist as well. The woman from the crisis team explains that if I don't co-operate and lay on the bed and let the EMT's put on the restraints on me they will call the police. So left with no choice I laid on the bed and they put the restraints on me. While this is going on the other kids therapist is off on the side saying "You are doing so good by letting them put the restraints on you". I just wanted to slap her at that moment.
After I was tied down I was wheeled out to the waiting ambulance in the school parking lot. The ride to the hospital felt like it was taking forever. When we arrived at the hospital it was already dark. I was taken into the lobby still on the bed, but my hands were released but my legs were still tied down. With my arms folded on my chest I was waiting in the lobby as I watched as several of the other kids that were there at the hospital pass by me, checking me out. Seeing the "new guy" so to speak.
After I was checked in, I was taken to the restraint room for a strip search. All my clothes were removed , even my underwear and searched for anything that wasn't allowed. Then I was taken over to the nurses station and motioned to a chair across from a nurse who asked me a few questions. One being why was I there. I began explaining to her about the incident that happened earlier in the day, until I realized she was not listening to what I had to say so I stopped talking. She continued to fill out the paperwork, having me sign in a few places and showed me to my room.
The room had 3 beds in it with lights over the head of the bed and a bathroom, however the bathroom was locked. You had to ask permission to use the bathroom. In the bathroom was just a sink and a toilet with the tank and lid zip tied down so you couldn't open the tank, I assume so you couldn't take the lid off and take anything out of the tank or try to drown yourself in the tank or something. Who knows.
The hospital made you attend a school which was held in the hospital's dining room. If you didn't attend the school, or any groups you had to spend the length of that school or group was (a hour for example) locked in the solitary room. The morning group kind of got on my nerves. You had to get up before breakfast and based on a number between 1 and 10 choose how you were feeling and then pick a goal for the day. Now I am not really a morning person. I was in a hurry to leave, so my answer was always "I am a 10, goal is to leave". Simply put and always the same.
I ended up being there for 7 days because of the kid. On this visit to Van Nuys Psychiatric the staff wanted my shoe laces for suicide watch just 20 minutes after I arrived in my assigned room. Instead of coming in and simply asking me for my laces, 3 staff members came running into the room, slammed me onto my bed face down. They pulled my arms behind my back and then up to my neck and then began taking the laces from my shoes. When they got the laces they released me letting me fall to the floor as they walked out of the room. In the "restraining" they had pulled the muscles in both my arms and shoulers bending them so far. I was unable to use my right arm for 2 days after the attack. Had they came in and just asked for the laces, hell I would have given the whole shoe. The hospital was carpeted anyway. Didn't need shoes there, let alone shoe laces.
The other incident that happened there was I had a fight with my mom on the phone. Big surprise. They decided to continue with breaking me, mentally. Two staff members took me to the solitary room to "cool off" because I was angry at my mom and slamed the handset of the pay phone down when I hung up. It was about 8PM, they locked the door and turned off the lights in the solitary room. 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. 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.
Because of that night, I am terrified of the dark. I have a nightlight on in most of the rooms of the house. In my room I have one of those 3 light level touch lamps. 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 that time.
Although looking back on it now as an adult the situation could have been handled better. But back then, I didn't know how else to handle the situation. The only way I knew how to handle it was if no one was going to protect me from this bullie, was to stand up for myself and show him I wasn't going to take it. But the problem with that thinking is first because of the "If we didn't see it, it didn't happen" rule that plan was doomed to fail with me coming out to be the bullie. And second I probably should have kept reporting it, or found a witness who saw it that I could have brought to the teacher. But what kid thinks in the compacity of an adult? Kids think like kids.
In the end he didn't get punished because I couldn't prove he hit me. I was told I was making it up. Funny how this is how it goes. I am always lieing. I also made a movie from the nightmares and flashbacks from the abuse in this hospital as well. If you wish to see the movie just click here. Again it's just basically a walkthrough of the hospital as seen through my eyes in the nightmares. Well, how nice of the school, they let me come back to Dubnoff Center. While being there I was again suspended when the kid attacked again. My mom called my dad and had him drive me and her to Charter Oak Hospital in Covina again. She told them I was suicidal again to get me admited. Well I managed to convince them that I wasn't suicidal at all and they refused to take me.....this time.
Then my mom tried having me sent to a group home. While the hospital was calling around she was sitting next to me telling me how much I would like it, that it would be good for me and so on. But I didn't meet the situation for that. She got angry and then she drove a few cities over to Department Of Children's and Families services and told made up the story that I was beating her and brother and that they feared for their lives. I never hit my mother once. And brothers being brothers of course I would fight with him.
Well they were about to take me till children's services told them it would cost my parents $600.00 a month for Child Services to take care of me. So my mom decided to take me back home. But child's services said if they got a report that I had messed up they would arrest me. So my mom used that to threaten me with all the time to do what she wanted until the case closed 2 months later.
While back at Dubnoff again I was helping a teacher grade papers one afternoon. This time it was a different kid that had a problem with me. He came out the gym, used the bathroom and then came over and tried to talk to me. I ignored him, so he went into the solitary room that was located next to the gym.
The room was about 8 feet long, 4 feet wide and carpet covered the floor and walls. No lights, just a small window at the end of the room and a small window in the solid steel door at the other end. The door couldn't be opened from the inside. It would be held shut by a staff on the outside. It smelled of pee because the staff would not open the door to let you use the bathroom, you either held it till they let you out, or you went on the floor.
Anyway, the kid went into the room, threw himself against the walls 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 of course heard him yelling and came down from the patio above. The staff member opened the door to the solitary room and the kid came out with a bloody nose. And big surprise, I was in trouble for doing it.
I was sent home from school where my mom had a waiting ambulance in the apartment complex driveway waiting to take me to the psych ward. My moms thing was when I really pissed her off she would call the psych hospital and tell them I was suicidal and they would come and get me.
I was hospitalized for 2 weeks. Not only was I sent for the kids bloody nose, but it seems 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. Anyway, she told my mom that I was throwing knives at my brother. Instead of my mom coming to me and asking me what happened, or asking my brother what happened she called the hospital and told them I was throwing knives at my brother. 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 they told her. When I found out I was highly pissed off. I went to the pay phone and called her up. 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.
I was extremely upset and without thinking I began walking down the hall to the locked door to the ward. From behind me up walks a staff member and walking with me asks where I am going. I tell him I am leaving. That I needed to go home and fix this. Without warning I am thrown to the floor, he takes his knee, places it on my spine and puts his full body weight. When he did that there was a series of cracks and then nothing but pain. What he and I didn't know was, that he caused damage to my spine and the nurves. I screamed in pain. The other staff took that as I was "going off" and came to help. I was taken to the restraint room, put in restraints and drugged. Next thing I knew I woke up in my room. Because of his actions, I have to take pain medication (2 5/500 vicodines, a 10mg Methadone and a 10mg flexiril muscle relaxer). All that and I still have pain from the injury.
So as I was saying, I woke up in my room with no memory of how I got there. I was still hurting. I came out of the room and this staff member told me to go to the med window. I was confused but figured it was probably some tylenol or something for the pain. Nope, it was more thorazine tranquilzer. I said no I didn't need it and walked away back to my room. A few minutes later 3 guys came in and dragged me to the solitary room and injected me with the thorazine and left me in the room for another 2 hours. I woke up again in my room with no memory how I got there. A few days later I met with a social worker who told me I would not be able to go home when I got released. That I would be going into a group home from the hospital. I became very upset as you could imagine and again ended up in restraints. Sorry, I was upset and panicked. A few days later a group home couldn't be found. I was told if one could not be found by the end of the week I would be sent to the state hospital until one was found unless family could take me.
I called every family member. Everyone said no or hung up on me. So much for family being there for you. Finally the last day for what ever reason (I still don't know today), I never found out I was able to go home. But with the stipulation that I was under 24 hour supervision by my mother. Oh she loved that. If I didn't follow it and my worker got a bad report I would be picked up and taken to a group home. Anyway a month later the case was closed and things went back to normal....sort of. Well after I got out after the 2 weeks in the hospital, I was sent to TOBINWORLD. It actually said that on the bus. Sucked being picked up in that bus. 40 foot bus with that written on the side. Anyway I was about 17 when I went to this new school. This one would be the worse yet. This school was located in Glendale California.
You were never alone for one minute. 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 was 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 attacked. By a staff member of all people.
It was summer schol. I came into the classroom, took my seat and was given classwork. No problem. 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 accusing me of stealing his pen. I told him he was mistaken that the pen belonged to me. Well he ordered me to give him the pen. I refused. He then pushed me back in my chair, 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 stomach with him on top of me. He took the pen from my hand 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. Mind you I wasn't fighting back. All the sudden my arms were extended out like I was flying, and Sabas put his elbow into my right shoulder blade till I was screaming in pain. The more I screamed the harder he pushed his elbow into me. This went on for about 30 minutes. Then I was finally let up.
I was told to go down to the blacktop to meet with the other kids. On the way down the stairs I was told by Sabas before I got out of the classroom "If you do anything I will drop your ass on the ground". My mom was even there in the lobby for a when I came down and didn't ask why I was all red in the face from crying and screaming or anything. She was there to meet with the principle for a IEP meeting. The incident report that was filed 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. But of course I was lieing and I was suspended for attacking staff.
Later in the school year we moved down the street to a 2 bedroom apartment. And I still was going to Tobinworld. And Sabas spent most of that year calling me names like "White boy" and other remarks. It was here I began cutting (Self injury). And by the way, I highly recommend not starting as it's hard as hell to stop. I have been trying for years to stop. It was mostly with tacks and things though.
Anyway, toward the end of the next year another major incident happened. One of the students 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 pissed off, so I took the kids tokens. 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. Oh please. The rewards sucked.
Anyway, I had to stay behind 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 took my hands and forced them onto the desk palms down. 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.
Then he resorted to name calling again "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). Well 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 walks away. Did he have a clue? Who knows.
But that evening I attempted suicide and ended up in the Van Nuys psych ward once again. This time for 3 days. FINALLY my mom believed me about the abuse and Sabas lost his job and a note in his file was added so he could not work with children in the future. Atleast there is some justice in the world.
We moved again to North Hollywood. 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. So I stayed out of school for the remainder of the year till I turned 18. I didn't mind. I was scared of those schools, especially after the attacks from Sabas.
The day I turned 18, I went to work for Initial Security Based out of Santa Fe California. Mostly working elderly assisted living homes, Factories, Banks and other locations. I worked for them for about a year and then moved up to Stockton California to work for Pinkerton Security. Shortly after moving I started having day time wetting accidents that had me now in diapers 24 hours a day.
It was in June 2000 that this site was opened. It was what I did 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. I like making a difference in people's lives when I can.
I worked for Pinkerton Security only for a year and a half. The post that did me in was Mental Health at 1212 California Street in Stockton California. It was a crisis intervention center and councilors that had an attached 3 ward psychiatric unit. Well this of course messed with me. It brought up all the abuse that had happened in psych hospitals from my childhood. I tried asking for a tranfer, but it never came. Working there brought up everything that happened when I was a kid and sparked off the nightmares and flashbacks, bringing everything back up to the surface. I was fired for lack of completing work. The day I was fired I attempted suicide again. I ended up in the psych unit I once worked for.
The first stay was uneventful other than the staff I was more or less friends with all the sudden being rude with me. The only incident that occurred was one of the staff ordered me to my room for the night. We argued till the charge nurse came over to find out what was going on. I explained that all he had to do was ask nicely and treat me with some respect for me to go to my room. But he had ordered me as if I was a kid being told to go to bed.
The charge nurse made him say sorry for how he spoke to me and to ask please and the incident was over. It was that kind of treatment that I saw the staff treating the patients that annoyed me when I was working there. I could never say anything though as a guard because I could lose my job.
I ended up on social security for mental disabilities. I never told Pinkerton about my depression problem or my past hospital stays. I sort of left it off the application. Anyway I was being seen by a therapist there shortly after. That exploded one day. She committed me one day for saying I was feeling like ending it, but I didn't have any plans or anything. I was feeling fustraighted.
Well she freaked and called security and was dragged off to the ward. I was there for a few hours and it came time for a diaper change and I asked for a diaper. One of the staff instead of just giving it to me discreatly, He held it up above his head and yelled down to the end of the station asking the head nurse if I could have it. She asked what it was and nice and loud "It's one of Stanley's diapers". Well I got it, but I was pissed. But I was only there 2 days.
But stay number 3 was a the worse of the three stays. I was admitted because once again my therapist freaked. I was pissed off this time around. I was taken into the locked holding area and then asked to perform a strip search in front of a staff that I knew was gay in sexual preference and he had told me several times when I worked there. Not a big deal, I have no problem with anyone being gay. I just didn't feel comfortable being naked in front of someone with such a preference and I expected him to understand. So I told them I was willing to wait in the holding area until someone else was able to do it. They said if I refused I would be put in restraints. I refused.
So for refusing to do a strip search I was put into 5 point restraints till I was ready to strip. Well 2 hours into the restraints, I had a bit of a wetting accident. I was changed against my will but was rediapered with chucks with tapes on them. One between my legs, and one drapped across my waist. They didn't hold anything. By the end of the 14 hours I was laying in a pool of urine. I was held a week there on this hold. Seems the doctor thought I was coming to hang out with the staff and wanted to make my stay as bad as possible so I would never want to come back. He was wrong, I didn't want anything to do with the place. But it worked. I was afraid to even go near the place. But he was mistaken. I didn't want to hang out with anyone there, my intention was to spend as little time there as possible if at all.
I moved to Ravena New York on March 7th 2002 to live with Pam (my AB Mommy), and 3 more stays occurred in the 2 years I lived in New York. Pam and her girlfriend Sandra helped me add much content to this site and services such as "Ask A Mom" for bed wetters as Sandra and her son both had wetting issues and "Ask Mommy" which was done by Pam with help from Sandra.
Shortly after I got to New York I was still having vivid nightmares about the hospital stays. The 3 stays in New York made it much more intense. But they both did their best to help me deal with them. Just listening and being there when I had a nightmare or flashback so I wasn't having to deal with them alone anymore. The first stay was from a therapist I was seeing 2 towns over. She wanted me to promise I would not hurt myself or kill myself. I wouldn't promise that because I couldn't guarantee it. I am one of those people who are a man of thier word. If I give my word, I keep it. At the time I was self injuring all the time, at times 3 times a day just to get by. So after a short argument by her to try to get me to sign the agreement I decided to leave out of frustration. I got in the car and left.
Well on the way home I stopped at the supermarket to do some shopping. I got a call on my cell phone, it was the therapist. She told me she called the Capital District Psychiatric Center in Albany New York and told them about me not promising to not hurt or kill myself. She told me they were not going to do anything and I didn't have to worry. But she was asking me where I was, and I told her I was on my way home. She asked about how long it would take, I said about 20 minutes or so. Something was wrong, my gut feeling was kicking in.
Well after hanging up with her about 30 minutes later I get a frantic call from my friend DJ who also lived with us. My gut feeling was right. Seems several police officers are now at the front door looking for me. He is in the back room and didn't answer the door but the security camera's outside the front door recorded the whole thing.
Well when we came home I came in through the back and Pam parked in front, cops didn't know I was home. Well after the 24 hours passed they could no longer look for me. So I went back to my normal daily activities.
I was cutting more than ever. I was using razor blades and taking it up a notch to carving words. I had found RuinYourLife.com which is now RecoverYourLife.com and finding RYL helped ALOT. Linda, one of the moderators there helped me alot. Her daughter cut more than I did, it was comforting to have someone to talk to that knew what I was going through.
The next incident was because my mom was calling on the phone all the time and was upsetting me a lot. So when she refused to stop calling me I called the police to file a restraining order. Well when the officer called my mom to ask her to stop contacting me, my mom's boyfriend told the officer I cut. And the officer called his supervisor and the supervisor arrested me and took me to the psych ward, all over cutting. And not deep or anything either. It was stupid and a waste of time. But I was released.
I was told by another therapist that going to the ER that they could give me a list of people who would see me (therapists). Well that backfired. They saw my cutting and I was admitted for a day and a half.
Another time I was suicidal and was upset and left a note that I was gonna kill myself. Well Pam knows me, I would never leave a note, even if I was for sure going to do it. It's means for someone to stop you, and if you are serious enough to do it, never leave a note. I was fustraighted and wasn't really thinking straight.
Well I walked down to the Mc Donalds and had a meal and chilled out and decided to walk back home and straighten things out. When I got home 2 police units were parked outside the house. Seems what happened was Pam was calling a friend to go look for me. She thought I had the car with me. DJ mentioned the note and the friend freaked and called the police.
So I ran, I was found and taken to the police station and held till the mobile psych team could arrive. When they arrived I wouldn't talk to them, it never made a difference when I did anyway. They still took me anyway. So I was taken to the psych center and was admitted because I wouldn't talk about what was going on. Seemed no matter what I said they would admit me anyway's. The reason it escalated was when the therapist threatened me saying "Well if you don't tell us what's going on we will hold you till you do". Well I spent 3 days there and got released.
Well after all that I stopped seeing therapists and was using hotlinesfor support. When I was depressed I would call places like the Samaritans and 1-800-suicide. It was cool because they were nonintervention where I was calling from. You could say you were going to kill yourself right then and they would just talk to you and try to help. They would never call PD or anything. Guess they couldn't trace phone numbers there or something, I don't know.
Anyway a friend online in my area gave me a number for a place called careline that was supposed to be nonintervention. Well seems they were wrong. When I called I told em I was suicidal and wanted to talk. They asked my first name and I gave it. And asked some other questions about me such as age and what area I lived. Well when the woman tried to cover the phone and told them to pull my chart my heart jumped. Seems I called the Capital District Psychiatric Centers hotline.
I tried to convince the psych tech that I wasn't suicidal at all and was fine. Well I hung up the phone when she told another woman to call the police in my area. I went next door to Sandra's house. Well the police found me and told Pam they were going to arrest her for obstruction of justice because she told them I was downstate. I was taken to the psych ward and once again admitted this time for 3 days. They threatened to perform electric shock on me, but I had a health care proxy which meant they had to get permission from Pam and Sandra first before they could do it. So the doctor tried to get me to cancel the form by saying Pam and Sandra wanted me to stay another 2 weeks there. I knew it was a lie but called Pam and Sandra to tell them what the doctor was trying to do. Because of what the doctor tried to do to get the form cancelled, I got released. But I was told if I ever came back again, they would use shock treatment on me.
Well, that was enough of a threat for me. I packed us (Me, Pam and Sandra) up and moved back to Stockton California on April 9th 2004. Ironically back to the same exact apartment I was in before moving to New York. Pam and her friend Sandra came to California with me. I was still having nightmares. I was diagnosed in New York with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the hospitals and how I was treated.
In May I was really depressed and called 1-800-suicide out here to talk. Seems out here they are not nonintervention. So within about 20 minutes several police cars moved on me and I was taken to 1212 California Street in Stockton California again. Well I was able to make the psych tech belive I was not suicidal. And he never noticed my cutting. So I went home and decided never again to contact any hotline be it interventional or not.
Also I was tricked once by a therapist. A therapist left the room and said they were going for a cup of water, and came back with security. So now if a therapist leaves the room for any reason I automatically assume they are calling security and leave. I am extremely careful not to be caught these days. And if I am it's never done easy. You have to be trying to find me pretty badly to find me these days.
I had found a new therapist in Stockton but because I had medicare I had to stop seeing her. I was seeing a new therapist through the Collage of the Pacific in Stockton California. Things were going ok for a little while. He learned a great deal about cutting and PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and has actually visited some of the locations from my past.
On February 4th, 2005 Pam died of a heart attack. It's really had an impact on my life. But I try to keep going.
As far as my therapist, I asked to have my sessions downgraded to once a month he freaked and was telling me if he did that he couldn't pay his bills. So now he dropped me and I had to begin searching for a new therapist.
In October of 2005 I moved up to Redding California with Sandra, my mom and her boyfriend. I know with me and my mom's past it sounds like the wrong move, but with her working for greyhound she is rarely home so it works out pretty well.
About 6 months after moving to Redding I finally found a therapist that I could work with. Sheela Stocks. She specializes in trauma victims. I have high hopes that over time she can help me get over the past abuse the best I can.
On August 8th 2006 we all moved into a 5 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath house located in Shasta Lake California. It's nice, it's set at the base of mountains. I like that we get snow but not enough to have to move it. We only get about 3 inches of snow a year which isn't bad. I am a big polar bear. :)
In July of 2007 Darien my friend moved out here to California from back east to live here. He has CF. But we get along well because we both have alot in common as far as our childhood. We both pretty much grew up with psych hospitals in our childhoods. And we both have self injury in our history. So we get along and understand each other well.
November 3rd 2007 a therapist had told me about Enloe Hospital in Chico California that was supposed to be able to treat those with PTSD. However it was voluntary. So I decided to give it a try. The first time I attempted to go there I drove 3 hours down there, got to the door and couldn't do it and came all the way back home. This time I managed to go in. I arrived around 5:30PM for suicidal thoughts and self injury due to dealing with the constant nightmares and flashbacks. The hospital is a voluntary unit so I was hoping to learn some coping skills for stress. However I was only able to stay until 7:30PM that night. The main reason for leaving was due to several flashbacks and anxiety from the PTSD I thought I could control long enough to be there. But it just didn't work out. But the other problem that made me decide to leave was my problem with medications. The staff kept trying to give it to me every 3 hours instead of every 6 hours as I was supposed to have it. So they would get upset when I would refuse to take it, it's like hello, I don't want to die. Anyway all in all I felt I needed to leave before the situation got out of control. When I informed the staff that I wanted to leave 3 different nurses came in to try to convince me to stay. All very nice and all trying to tell me of all the services I would get by staying. But I know what would/could happen if I stayed. When I once again said no, they then changed their attitude and took a more stern attitude and said "Well if you choose to leave we will have to contact the mobile crisis team to do an evaluation to have you placed on a 5150 hold because we feel you are still a danger to yourself due to the self injury". Well long story short after finally seeing the doctor and explaining to him that I wished to leave he granted my wish and I was released and I went home. November 5th 2007 I was admitted to Elpedia at 11:20PM and stayed there until November 7th at 7:40am. Again I left due to flashbacks and anxiety and again due to medication problems. It seems the longest I can stay is 1-3 days before PTSD and other problems become too much to control and I need to leave before and incident happens. And by incident I mean going off in such a way as someone is hurt. And I refuse to let such an incident happen if it's in my control. But while I was at Elpedia I was able to get some information on possible ways to cope with stress.December 7th 2007. I had a intake appointment at mental health to finally get services. However 10 minutes into the meeting she starts telling me I am not in touch with my feelings. That I self injure for attention from others. I don't see how that is possible since I cover them while I am in public. Then she says I was suicidal just to get attention. I got up and walked out of the room I was upset at what she had accused me of. She stopped me at the exit and handed me her card while saying "Call me when your serious about getting help". I don't know what that was supposed to mean. I left and went home and self injured. Later that day I was able to get a emergency appointment with my old therapist Sheela. I explained to her what happened at mental health and what the woman said about me. She and I talked for awhile. I brought up doing a self test online for the ADHD. She confirmed it and set up a appointment with my doctor while she was talking with him about setting me up with antidepressants as well as ritilin for the ADHD. January 6th 2008 I was admitted to Enloe Psychiatric Hospital in Chico California for suicidal thoughts. I was there for a total of 9 hours before checking out AMA (Against medical advice). When I arrived I was offered a sandwitch because of the low blood suger. It never came. I waited until dinner to eat. When I was checked in, the diapers I had, instead of taken to the room covered in a bad or something was taken in full view for everyone to see. The bed was another problem. It had no pillow. I requested one 3 times, it never came. I had to use my jacket for a pillow. I was also denied my pain medication for my back with the excuse of I was still being checked in. This was 4 hours after arriving. This excuse continued for several hours. After 9 hours there I had enough and decided to leave. The flashbacks were already getting out of control and with all the problems already happening I decided it was time to leave. Before they would let me leave I had to write out why I wanted to leave in detail, my support system at home in detail and what I would do if I became suicidal while at home in detail. Being upset from the flashbacks and in pain from not having medication it made writing the paper very difficult. After about a hour and a half it was done and I was released. Once I got in the car I took my medication. I felt better and calmer just being out of the hospital and in the car. Safer.
Febuary 20th 2008, Moved out of the house Myself, Sandra and DJ was sharing with my mom and her boyfriend. We moved to Redding, and my mom got her own place. We just couldn't get along anymore sharing a place. It's much calmer just me, Sandra and DJ. April 4th 2008, confronted my mom about the abuse in the psychiatric hospitals and why she did it. She told me she didn't feel guilty for what she did or what happened. So I decided it would be a good move to cut her out of my life since she is such a negitive effect on my life.
Well aside from all of that my nightmares and flashbacks are still giving me a hard time but I am hanging in there. Still no therapist. I hope one day to stop the nightmares forever and return back to working security again.
With the issue of running the site, it's the best thing I can do. I really enjoy helping people and providing all the site has to offer for free. It's worth every penny if just one person is helped. I try to provide a safe, accepting, supportive and helpful site possible for everyone to use. I hope this page has helped you to get to know me a little better and I hope to see you around the site or on the message board some time.
If you are interested, you can click on the link below to see some pictures of me spending my free time and learn a bit more about me. Thank you for visiting my personal page.
-Stanley
