I thought long and hard about whether or not to post the name of the treatment center in Los Angeles that I went to. After a serious internal struggle, I decided to keep the name of the rehab facility out of it. I don’t want to ruin someone else’s potentially good experience. Truthfully, I don’t think it would be possible to have a positive experience with the program, at least if you want help.
The back story…
I was in and out of recovery for a couple years. Periodically relapsing, going back to AA, and relapsing again. I eventually got a therapist, and started seeing him. He was well known, and on the “talk show” circuit, a really charismatic guy. My parents had seen him on TV and set up my first appointment. I immediately got a weird vibe from him, the first time we met we talked more about him then me. I felt like maybe it was a bad fit, but my parents were financing my sessions, and they told me that I needed to get my life together, and that he was the “expert”. They insisted that I see him if I wanted their support. He told me that I would have to put a release of information in place for my parents or he couldn’t see me, because they were paying for me going to him. Again, this felt weird, and definitely changed how I approached the therapy, because I didn’t want my parents to know the gritty details of my addiction, and my totally disheveled life. But I felt like I didn’t have a choice and said, “OK”.
I continued to struggle, had a lot of issues, and kept relapsing. I started researching treatment centers at that point. I told him (the therapist) that I was relapsing, and he said that wasn’t unusual. He told me that he wouldn’t tell my parents if I upped my sessions to three times per week. I didn’t know what to do so I said, “OK”. At $350.00 dollars a session, I felt like it was a total waste of time and money. Every time we would meet (at his house) he would tell me about his life. How he struggled for years with addiction, and how great his life was now. He spent a lot of time telling me about his success, and which television shows he was doing that particular week. I felt like he expected me to just listen, so I did. Either way, I didn’t feel safe enough to really tell him what was going on with me, although I did sometimes manage to get a word in edgewise. After 3 months or so I felt like I was going down the drain rapidly. I continued to research treatment centers and knew that I needed to go in somewhere for inpatient rehab. I couldn’t stop relapsing. I told my therapist that I was thinking about going to treatment and he told me that he didn’t think I needed residential, that maybe I should up my therapy sessions with him to 5 times per week. At that point I officially stopped trusting him – he was totally 100% all about my parents money.
A friend of mine had been through a program that she said had worked for her. I centered myself on the idea of going there. I researched them online and asked around. I spoke to them and loved how they approached treatment for addiction. They were a co-occurring disorders center, precisely what I needed. I started almost looking forward to admitting there. I needed to tell my parents, and was scared to do that. But I kept relapsing.
I told my therapist again that I was thinking about going to inpatient. He then changed his tune and said I should go to his program. He said it was $65,000 per month and in Hollywood and that I would love it. There is “great food” he said, and “a swimming pool!” I had already looked at his program and wasn’t interested in going there. Also, the program I had been looking at was less then half that cost. But I didn’t really know what to say to him. I felt really, really pressured. I decided to try and hold it together and just not go to treatment.
A few weeks later I relapsed again. I called my friend and asked her to come pick me up and take me to the program I had been looking at. She said she would and came down to get me. I made a call to my therapist and left a message telling him I wouldn’t be able to make my sessions that week because I was going to treatment.
I got a call about 30 minutes later from my parents. They told me that my therapist had called them and told them that I had been using drugs for weeks, and that I had told him not to tell them. They told me that he had also told them about my “promiscuous” activities and how I needed to go to his program. He had told them that his program was the best program in the country and that the program I was going to was terrible. I told them that I didn’t trust my therapist and that he had told me not to tell them I had been relapsing and that I should just see him more and that I didn’t need treatment. I told them all the things I’d heard about his “rehab” and how everyone thought it was a joke. They told me they didn’t trust me and that they believed him more than me. I’ve never felt so betrayed, so misled, so emotionally manipulated as I did at that point.
I told my parents that I absolutely didn’t want to go to his program. I told them it was ridiculously expensive and didn’t do any of the things I felt I needed. They told me that I didn’t know what I needed and that they were going to listen to the “expert”. They told me that I had to go.
So I went.
I went up to Hollywood where I stayed in a rehab with people using drugs, talking all day on their cell phones, where I was forced to go sit in my “therapists” office while he made phone calls and billed my parents $350.00 additional dollars for individual therapy. They ended up paying $65,000 for the month, plus me sitting in his office 5 times a week. I wouldn’t even talk with him and he told me that was fine but that I needed to come anyway.
Near the end of my stay, which accomplished virtually nothing, the therapist called my parents and told them I needed an additional month of treatment. By that point, I had been able to tell them, succinctly, what my problems were with him and his rehab. I told them what a joke the program was, the crazy stuff that was going on there, and all the gritty details of the last several months. They had started to think they had been taken shortly after making me go there, but it wasn’t till the end that they realized what a scam artist he was.
When they asked him why they had been billed for sessions I hadn’t wanted to go to, and why he hadn’t actually done anything while I had been there, he told them I was “resistant”. He kept saying I was an “addict”, and didn’t have depression or anxiety and that I didn’t need treatment for those issues. He then told them that his program was the best in the country (again) and that I they didn’t make me stay (for another $65,000) that I would probably die. He told them they would be responsible for my death. By that point they had finally fully grasped the evil of this man. He even tried to tell them that if I didn’t overdose and die from drugs, I would probably be raped, or sexually assaulted if I didn’t stay in treatment.
My parents finally heard from him what I had been saying most of the way through. They called me and asked what I wanted to do. I told them I wanted to go to the program I had initially researched. They agreed and helped me set it up. On the day that I left, the therapist didn’t talk with me at all, and he wouldn’t even look at me or say goodbye.
I went on in my treatment and got the help I needed. I kept in contact with a few of the other people I had been in treatment with before, and they all said they were experiencing similar issues to what I had. In the meantime, I ended up having a really positive experience with the new facility. They took the time to talk with me about my prior rehab and helped me learn how to trust professionals again. It took several weeks, but they held my hand along the way. They never pressured my to extend my stay. They simply said that although they knew I probably needed more time, they were stuck because of what had happened before. They said if I wanted to stay I could, and if not, they would help me set up aftercare, or transfer to another program.
They continually built me back up, piece by piece. I saw a psychiatrist, a psychologist, a therapist (they did therapy 5 times a week) and did great groups while I was there. We went to good meetings, and although the program was structured – it felt safe. We went on outings, to the gym, on hikes, to theme parks. It was just a really good program. I felt prepared to leave when I finally left.
My parents and I began to heal our relationship while I was in the program too. They were also a little skeptical at first, given what had happened before. But they eventually trusted the team too and at one point, even broke down crying thanking my therapist for helping them and me.
I guess when it’s all said and done, this rehab review is as much about sharing my story as it is about me continuing to heal from my terrible experience. I think that there are just some people and treatment centers that circle crisis like sharks. I don’t think they are really trying to help anyone, or even care about those that they’re “helping”. So, be cautious about choosing a treatment program and be sure do to your research. I wish there were more sites like this one where you can really get insider information about facilities before you went to them.
I hope that you find the right program and that you don’t have an experience like what I’ve described. But if you do – don’t give up!
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