morerevealed.com-5 kevin yriondo a saga of real honesty

8/11/2019 Morerevealed.com-5 Kevin Yriondo a Saga of Real Honesty

1/4

morerevealed.com http://www.morerevealed.com/library/horror-stories/kevin-yriondo--a-saga-of-real-honesty.ht

5. Kevin Yriondo A Saga of Real Honesty

12-Step

Horror Stories

True Tales of Misery, Betrayal and Abuse in NA, AA and 12-Step Treatment

Rebecca Fransway

Compiler/Editor

This book is here courtesy of See Sharp Press and Rebecca Fransway, Ed.

My first experience with drug treatment came early in life. I went through high school

using drugs moderately, for the most part, sometimes every day, other times not at all.

My grades fluctuated, but not necessarily because of my drug use; I lacked interest in school as well.

When I was 19 years old I met a girl who liked using cocaine intravenously. So I probably used cocaine intravenous30 or 40 times -- not occasions, but doses, rather. However, I realized this had an addictive hold on me, and I didn't

think that was right, so I asked my parents if I could talk to them - not that I have a close family. They were kind of

stunned that I wanted to talk to them both at the same time. I told them that I had a problem and I wanted to do

something about it.

My parents decided they would go see what help was available. They ended up speaking to the people who were

running a therapeutic community -- one of these programs that last two years. These people convinced them that

unless I attended this program I was doomed, as they say in 12-step programs, to "jails, institutions, or death." They

told my parents they needed to give me an ultimatum -- get out of the house or go to this two-year program.

Out of the house seemed a lot more attractive at the time, so I left my home and lived at friends' houses for awhile.When I got tired of that, I took a car that didn't belong to me and went back to my home town in Mississippi. While

down there, I got arrested for the stolen car and put in jail.

Meantime, my mom had talked to folks at another program that seemed a little more mellow -- they said I would only

have to stay in that program for two weeks. They didn't have a max. The program was called Notsostraight, Inc.

Unfortunately, that's were I went. When I got in there, these people held me by the belt loop in a big room filled with

people. This was for confrontational "therapy" where newcomers had to get in front of a group of about 120 people.

One by one, these folks raised their hands, and when they were called on, they screamed at you in front of the othe

people -- they got right in your face. After about four hours of this, your face is covered with spit. Victims got extreme

mad or broke down crying. Most of them broke down crying.

I realized that after you release all these emotions, that's your weakest and most vulnerable time, a time they can

then use to start brainwashing you. They break you down to the point where you don't know what's going on anymo

-- you're totally malleable.

So I decided I wasn't going to break down. I decided I'd try to treat it like a bad acid trip. I was watching what was

happening to all these new people, and thinking, wow, this is really weird, this couldn't really be happening.I tried to

think of it that way, since I knew what their intent was.

So after they got done with me, the counselor, because I didn't cry, etc., asked what I had to say for myself. I told him
http://www.morerevealed.com/library/horror-stories/kevin-yriondo--a-saga-of-real-honesty.htmlhttp://www.morerevealed.com/


2/4

was an adult, I was over 18, I didn't want to be there anymore, and that he had a legal and moral obligation to releas

me. So he starts talking all this shit. He told that group of about 120 people, You know what this guy did? He stole a

car, and got caught. He can't doshit right. The counselor kept it up, trying to humiliate me in front of all those people

I didn't show that bothered me -- I just sat there smiling. Then he asked the people holding me to move back. He

asked if I wanted to hit him. I said No, I don't want to hit you. I want to leave. He kept pressing the issue, kept askin

I wanted to hit him. Well, it was true that by that time, I did want to hit him. So I did hit him, and broke his nose. They

umped on me, and as a result, years later, I still have a knot on my forehead, which had crashed on the hard floor.

And they wouldn't let me out of there.

Four days later I stole a pair of scissors. I broke the scissors in half, so I had a pointed piece and a curved piece.

They had the doors barricaded with mattresses and so forth, and bars on the windows so people couldn't get out. Bu

I got out.

On the way to the parking lot, I was accosted by one of them. I had to put the scissors up to his throat. It even drew

little blood -- not a lot of bleeding, not bad. When they saw how serious I was, they let me out of there. They didn't c

the police or anything, because they knew they were wrong to start with. I was justified in whatever I had to do to ge

out of there. I was an adult being detained illegally.

I got in a little more trouble after that. My troubles, in fact, persisted for another two years. Eventually, I was arrestedin Alexandria, Virginia, for possession of cocaine with intent to distribute. This made the Washington Postas well as

the Fairfax Journal.I got arrested with a sizable quantity of cocaine and $18,000 dollars. I was sentenced to 18 year

in the penitentiary.

I went to Virginia state pen. During my years in prison, I became extremely good at prison legal work. As a result, I g

out after six years. Also, I had no drug problem by then. I had not used drugs the whole time I was in prison -- no AA

no NA, just didn't use. While in prison, I had been forced to go to AA and NA, but I didn't like it. I told them I thought

was cult-like, and it wasn't for me, and because of my own religious preferences I did not think it was right for them t

force a male monotheistic God or any other religious structure on me. So I was barred from those meetings for

speaking my mind.

I was clean all on my own when released from prison. I did well, bought a house, and got married to my former priso

counselor.

During mid-1984 I got depressed, which had actually been my problem all along. I now take antidepressants, but at

that time I didn't know what I needed. So I got very depressed, and whenever I got depressed, I'd want to use drugs

The options would sort of narrow down for me -- take drugs to numb the pain, or commit suicide. When I was

depressed like that, the drugs would seem the lesser of two evils. It's not that I was attracted to drugs or that my life

was centered around drugs -- I just didn't know what else to do. It wasn't an ingrained behavior -- it was just an

option. And I had access, through some I knew, to a lot of opiates.

I started using opiates. Eventually, I forged several prescriptions and got caught in Bay County, Florida. I got caughtby the pharmacist, but I knew a warrant would be issued eventually. I told my wife, who did not handle it very well,

which I can understand. I told her I had to get out of town.

So I flew to Amsterdam from New Orleans, and from there to Berlin, then to Zurich. At the time my wife was a juveni

probation officer in Florida, so she could check if there were any warrants for my arrest. There weren't any.

So, I flew back to the good old U.S. Within a week, the police called my wife's workplace, my workplace, and our

home looking for me. So I departed again. this time I was going to Spain, but I had a layover in Mexico City. My

parents talked me into staying there, then taking a bus to San Miguel to see a therapist some relatives knew. He told

me he couldn't help me, that I was as close to hopeless as a person could get. I was very addicted to narcotics at th


3/4

time, to an extreme that most addicts in NA with their little drugalogues never get to, because they rarely have the

unlimited access to drugs I had.

Have you heard of fentanyl? It's anywhere from 200 to 1000 times stronger than heroin, depending on the variety.

They don't make pills with it -- they've got a lollypop now and patches for terminal cancer patients and so forth. It's

undetectable -- you can't get caught by a urine test. So I was wearing my 400 mcg patches of fentanyl, and getting 8

mg of methadone a day, and shooting dope. I was doing really bad.

My wife made arrangements for me to go into XYZ Clinic, in a university hospital. They detoxed me there. There's a

famous doctor there who holds the patents on two prescription drugs. He detoxed me. No 12-step nonsense. I could

sign out and leave if I wanted.

I got caught drinking beer there. I had brought two cans of beer back in my coat, and the maid found the empties in

my room. The doctor called me in. Hey Kevin, were you drinking beer in your room? I admitted it. He than asked,

"How many did you have?I said twoHe asked me how I felt after two. I told him fine, a little more relaxed. Then he

said, well, that doesn't sound like alcohol abuse to me.

XYZ Clinic is also where I learned that my drug problems were rooted in depression, which is, of course, treatable.

However, the law wasn't through with me. After the arrest on the prescription forgery charges, I went to jail for six

months. The probation people then ordered me into a six-month drug treatment program called "Clinton." It was runby a company called Doesn't Work Programs, Inc. They get state contracts for drug treatment. The whole thing is

based on 12-step nonsense. So from the time I went in, I was, because of my opinion of the 12 steps, public enemy

#1. From the beginning I had a hard time in there.

They told me I had to call myself an addict, or I would be kicked out. I didn't want to be dishonest in that way, and I

didn't feel like I should say this as long as I wasn't using addictive drugs. But then I realized I could probably say I

was honestly addicted to nose spray, since I needed to use it constantly to keep my sinuses from getting swollen an

my nose from running all the time. So I figured, well, I'm addicted to nasal spray, so I can honestly say I'm an addict

would go through mental gymnastics like that so I could feel like I was being honest with these people and still be

able to stay in the program and avoid going back to jail.

Verbal abuse in Clinton was very common. They had unbridled discretion to discharge anyone, which, since they

relied on probationers to fill their beds, gave them god-like power over their patients. This was an excellent set-up fo

Nazi-like rule enforcement, since discharge for any probationer meant prison for that person. They could get away

with forcing obedience to a lot of very stupid rules, and could inflict a lot of emotional abuse. Anyone who spoke out

against their 12-step program who hadn't the ability (unlike me) to file a lawsuit could easily be discharged. Selective

enforcement of rules was a tool they frequently used to discriminate against people who spoke out against 12-step

orthodoxy, or refused to follow it.

On one occasion a counselor at Clinton asked me what I thought of the program so far. I told him I thought AA and th

12 steps were fine for someone who just needed to blindly follow a religion or a superstitious doctrine, but that I

thought most people needed something other than that, and that they should be allowed to choose other approacheI was making this speech, and the program director came in and started raging at me. She had totally misinterpreted

me. I was promoting tolerance, but she kep raging. I said, Excuse me, but since you're interrupting me, can I interrup

you for a minute? You've managed to not only interrupt me, but misinterpret me, which takes a real talent.After that

she didn't like me at all.

I had one problem after another like that. Anything I said like that, even joking, would become a gigantic issue at

Clinton. Once I joked that maybe if Bill W. Was born in a manger on Christmas, the wise men would bring him coffee

cigarettes, and literature, and oh they blew a hole about that.*Then I made a fake flyer for the Billapalloozaconcert

with the band Serenityplaying their hit, Think, Think, Think,and I put it on the bulletin board. Oh, they raged about

that, too. These things were jokes -- if there's no humor in the way you live your life, you've got to rearrange


4/4

something. But they didn't understand; they thought I was making light of this serious, serious issue. When they kep

talking about this disease, I'd say, Look, there's no disease cured by drinking coffee and talking in a smoky church

basement.

*

If this were a viable modality of treatment for anyone who was sick, I'd send them to a church basement, give them 2

cigarettes, and talk to them -- they'd get better, right? I'd tell them, What it is, you guys have a social support network

and the problem with that social support network is that you encourage each other to stay sick.

I went through the program, but I ended up threatening to start a lawsuit against them for violating the Establishmen

Clause of the U.S. Constitution's First Amendment by forcing me to go to these 12-step meetings and hear this

religious nonsense. So they exempted me from going to outside meetings, but when I got out the probation

department insisted I still go to two meetings a week.

I went to the meetings, but they were horrible. The people didn't like me to start with, because they'd met me while

they had been doing H & I (Hospital and Institutions Service) at the inpatient meetings while I was inside the drug

rehab. They already knew I would speak my mind. I'd tell them I was only trying to grow up, to find things in my life

that were more appealing than drugs to fill the void, rather than this artificial social circle they'd formed in meetings.

a 12-step group really is is a social club that's made for the socially inept, the maladjusted, and the perpetually need

As long as you're sitting in that social circle and looking to it for the answer to your problems, you're going to stay sic

the rest of your life. They did not like that I said that.

By this time, I'd been clean for two years, but still had to go to these meetings. The people I had to listen to were so

miserable. It was just one diatribe after another about how horrible their days were. Half of them in there have to

create a crisis in order to have something to talk about at the meeting. If you're too happy at the meeting, you're not

honest, and if you bitch too much you're on your pity pot.

I'd hear young women at the meeting say, oh, and my boyfriend said this and this today, but I thought "using is not a

option," and I decided I would just let it go and let God.I'm thinking, Didn't I just hear this last week? Wasn't it just la

week that your mother said something you felt like using over? And you let it go and let God? It's the same fuckingshit, week after week. And they don't learn, because they are trained to think they are going to want to use, and to b

needy.

I got really sick of being subjected to that. That's why, once I got off probation, I decided that since I had to have this

dogma shoved down my throat week after week, that AA and NA would have to listen to what I had to say about it fo

an equal amount of time. That's justice. That's why you're reading this now.

morerevealed.com-5 kevin yriondo a saga of real honesty

Documents