Pubdate: Sun, 28 May 2000
Source: Los Angeles Times (CA)
Copyright: 2000 Los Angeles Times
Contact:  Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles, CA 90053
Fax: (213) 237-4712
Website: http://www.latimes.com/
Forum: http://www.latimes.com/home/discuss/
Author: Anna Gorman, Times Staff Writer
Note: Part 3 of a 4 part series in the Ventura Section of the Los Angeles Times

Treatment Gap for Teen Addicts (Part 3 of 4)

RECOVERY PROGRAM TOO TOUGH FOR SOME

Treatment: A 17-year-old girl who had already suffered through heroin 
withdrawal was ready for a new life. But old ways are hard to shake.

Marie, 17, said it was time. She was ready.

She had already gone through the heroin withdrawal that kept her awake for 
days and made her muscles twitch and her body ache.

She was sick of living like a party girl, after more than five years of 
smoking marijuana, drinking and shooting heroin.

And she wanted to be a mom to her 23-month-old daughter being raised by 
Marie's mother, Ruth.

"This lifestyle gets old," she said, as she played with her tongue ring. 
"You lose everything. Your family, your friends, your life."

So on a warm March morning, Marie, with thick black hair and tattoos on her 
shoulders, was released from Juvenile Hall into the Rainbow Recovery Youth 
Center.

The Santa Paula house, Ventura County's only residential drug treatment 
program for teens, has six beds for girls. There are no county-funded beds 
for boys in the county.

Marie was one of the lucky few to get into the Rainbow center. And she 
hoped four months there would give her the solace and strength she needed 
to quit.

Her mother, who lives in a comfortable two-story house in Thousand Oaks, 
was not as confident. The inpatient program doesn't work for everyone.

And Ruth had already tried so much--checked Marie into rehab hospitals, 
sent her to a reform school and worked extra hours to pay for programs.

But none of it had worked. Marie kept lying and stealing from her. And she 
kept getting caught shoplifting and using drugs.

"It's hard because I've been doing this for five years," Ruth said as her 
daughter began her latest cleanup effort. "But she's still my little girl, 
so what am I going to do?"

On her first day at Rainbow, Marie bit her fingernails as the house rules 
were explained. They sounded strict, but reasonable. No smoking. No 
boyfriends. Only calls from parents or sponsors.

As the days passed, Marie quickly fell into the rhythm of the center--she 
cleaned, exercised, studied, met with a counselor and attended dozens of 
support groups.

The first big challenge came about three weeks into the program, when she 
let a boy put his hand on her back during an outside meeting. The night 
manager, Judy Ulrich, warned her about a possible write-up.

"I'm not a little girl," Marie snapped.

Despite Marie's behavior, Rainbow director Traci Lewis still let her have a 
pass in early April so she could celebrate her daughter's second birthday. 
Marie had looked forward to it all week. But when she got home, she 
dismissed her daughter with a quick hug, then disappeared upstairs to hang 
out with her girlfriends.

So when Marie's 2-year-old daughter started crying, it was Ruth who picked 
her up and held her.

As the day neared its end, Marie made it clear she had no real interest in 
going back to Rainbow. The rules were restrictive and unnecessary, she 
complained. She simply didn't want to be there anymore, she told her mom. 
And right then, Ruth knew it was over. Here we go again, she thought to 
herself.

This time, Marie finally decided to return to Rainbow. But the following 
weekend, she was back home on another pass. She told Ruth she was going to 
hang out with a few girlfriends, but instead used heroin with an old 
boyfriend, her mother said.

That night, Rainbow's counselors immediately spotted the relapse. Marie 
admitted it. So a Rainbow staff member called her mom and her probation 
officer. Rather than risk being sent back to Juvenile Hall, Marie ran away. 
Today, more than a month later, Ruth says she doesn't know where her 
daughter is. Marie calls every other day to check in, but refuses to come 
home and says she won't get help.

When Ruth doesn't receive a call for a few days, she gets frantic. She 
worries that the next call will be the police.

"Every time I think there is a glimmer of hope, she shoots it down," Ruth 
said. "So I don't know what it's going to take."
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