Life! By Design_ 6 Steps to an Extraordinary You - Laura Morton [3]
By the time I was thirteen years old, I had been exposed to drugs and alcohol. I started acting out for pure shock value. I grew my usually reddish brown hair long and dyed it jet black, a harsh look for a guy with fair skin. When I wanted even more attention, I’d use a lot of gel and wear my hair in a giant Mohawk. I slowly slid into a life I didn’t expect.
I was often partying, going to local punk rock shows, and staying out late. I began lying to my parents about everything all the time. I partied as a way to escape my home life, which had become unbearable under Pete’s steel fist and his constant prodding of my mother to get tougher with us kids.
By my fourteenth birthday, my partying was out of control. Even though I was one of the smartest kids in my class, I always came home with F’s on my report card because I was bored by school. Nothing seemed to engage me except music, girls, and partying.
Mom and Dad were at their wits’ end when they decided to send me to a “camp” in Idaho during the summer between eighth and ninth grade. Although camp may have been appealing to many kids my age, it was the last thing I wanted to do. I had conjured up thoughts of canoeing and tennis—hardly the way I was living my life. When Mom explained that she and Dad had already signed the waivers and permission forms, I quickly realized that my summer wasn’t going to be one of leisure. Outward Bound was for candy-asses compared to Sioux Survival Camp, the twenty-one-day rehabilitation program that was my destination.
Two days before I left for camp, I hatched the perfect plan to run away as soon as I got there. I pretended that going away was no big deal. The night before I left, I dyed my hair with a fresh coat of black coloring to let everyone know I was a real badass. The next day I flew by myself to Boise, Idaho, where the camp supervisor met me and drove me an additional eighty miles to the camp. I was greeted by a tough-looking guy holding a clipboard; he welcomed me with a strip search. He immediately took away almost everything I’d brought, leaving me with one pair of socks, a pair of slacks, one set of underwear, a shirt, and a sweater. I was handed an empty backpack, a sleeping bag, a tarp, and a single-blade knife, which I was told would be used as a survival tool. When I asked about lip balm, he just laughed and said, “No can do. You’ll eat it.” Welcome to camp!
My three-week journey began with the first of many seven-day tasks I was assigned. I was told it was mandatory to write in my journal every day. It didn’t matter what I wrote as long as I participated. The next rule they laid on me was no cursing. I thought, Shit. I had already broken that rule several times since my arrival. I was determined not to let the camp counselors break me, so I kept on using whatever words I wanted.
I rejected every task assigned from the start with a naïve and arrogant “screw you” attitude. It didn’t take long for me to realize that my approach wasn’t getting me anywhere. After a few days in the woods, I also realized that my perfect escape plan was a total bust. I was stuck. I had no choice but to go with the flow because I was fed up with being the miserable kid. I figured I might as well make the most of my situation because it appeared I was in it for the long haul. Overnight, I went from being the last kid in line to the leader in all of our activities. I was always out in front of the group during our daily long hikes and the first one up the hill. I began to open up a bit, talking to our counselors and asking them about their lives—where they came from and why they were dealing with kids like me.
All of our training during those few weeks led up to the last assignment—being entirely alone for seventy-two hours. We were each handed some paltry food rations that included a single can of soup, one apple, and a canteen of water.
Part of our assignment was to write a letter to our parents, girlfriend, and anyone else we wanted to make peace with before going home. I wrote only my mom and dad to thank them for sending me