It was clear this was not a normal rehab place, even though it was my first rehab. It was also clear this was the last. And, I had some questions for those who pressured me to leave my home to come here.
The three way argument between my doctor, me, and my mom was over weeks prior. Nobody was on speaking terms. Nobody was prescribing anything.
I was not coming off drugs, or on drugs. I could feel something was deeply evil with Narconon as soon as I walked in the door.
None of us could use our phones in "treatment". Normal in a rehab? Probably.
I had to convince a councilor to break the rules and let me use their phone to look up Narconon Fresh Start, and I needed to see a map. I had to see what I was in for before things got stranger and how to get out of this extremely remote location. Where was I?
I waited until one of the councilors was relaxed and looking at their phone. Ultimately, I got one of their phones in my hot little hands and looked up Narconon Fresh Start on Wikipedia.
I had to get out of here fast. It was obvious this was the study of Scientology, who's founder was convicted of fraud.
Graduation from the program was never an option.
What was I supposed to do, hang it next to my BA in Accounting certificate on the wall, to instill trust I was a smart Scientologist who would never lie or especially commit fraud.
Fridays were graduation days. I had three days to plan my safe return to civilization and get out of this terribly isolated place they call the Mohave Desert.