Hey everyone, It's my birthday week, and I've been doing a lot of quiet reflecting on 2021...the year I ended up at American Addiction Centers' River Oaks facility in Riverview, Florida.
What was supposed to be help turned into one of the loneliest yet enlightening chapters of my life. Over the years since, I've learned so much, grown through the pain, and found small, rewarding moments in pushing back: sporadic outreach for possible representation or class-action efforts (nothing guaranteed yet, but every bit of momentum counts).
My efforts aren't wasted, and neither are yours.
One memory that keeps surfacing is the night I stayed up late to make a vision board and collage...a simple, therapeutic thing that helped me process feelings. I was alone in the craft area when a giant 6'2 TA (treatment assistant, basically security-like staff) stormed over, cornered me out of nowhere, and barked at me to get back to the sleeping dorm. That moment still sticks with me because it wasn't just one bad interaction; it highlighted how rigid, punitive, and antithetical to real healing the environment was.
Especially as a woman with a history of past trauma, that incident was profoundly triggering. Having a large man suddenly invade my personal space, corner me, tower over me, yell in my face, point aggressively, and bark orders like I was in prison...while I was alone and simply trying to engage in a harmless therapeutic activity...felt deeply violating and unsafe. The aggressive intensity of his reaction, combined with the power imbalance and physical intimidation, immediately flooded me with fear, shaking, and tears. Then, to make it worse, he just stood there watching as I frantically gathered all my supplies my magazines, glue, scissors, images I’d carefully cut out and chucked them to the side like they (and my attempt at self-soothing) meant nothing. It was humiliating and dismissive on top of the terror, reinforcing that my needs, my space, and my efforts to cope didn’t matter in that environment.
This kind of experience isn't just a "bad staff moment"...it's a serious failure in trauma-informed care, especially in a facility that markets itself as helping people recover from substance use and co-occurring issues like PTSD or complex trauma.
Many survivors (particularly women) carry similar histories, and encounters like this can retraumatize rather than help regulate the nervous system. If this resonates with your own experiences at AAC/River Oaks (or similar facilities), feel free to share privately via email...your story could help strengthen the record for potential advocacy or legal efforts.
We weren't even allowed late-night walks around the "yard"...something as basic as a "passeggiata" (that small Italian stroll to get the blood flowing and clear your head). In a place full of people already carrying trauma and dysregulated nervous systems (many using substances to cope), denying those simple freedoms could make anyone collapse inward once back in "normal" life. It's like shock to the system on top of existing wounds. And that wasn't the only troubling thing I witnessed:
- Drinks getting spiked with fentanyl (I saw it happen...people pretending to be sick who were actually dealers so they could sneak in hard drugs and harm people in recovery...straight up evil).
- Frequent on-campus fights, table-flipping, loud sex at the "sex rock," inappropriate relationship out in the open between a 50 something year old woman and barely 18 year old guy and zero real intervention.
- Abrupt, unsafe discharges for minor stuff (like me getting kicked out over ordering food, stranding me in a new state with no money or plan while on probation). Or people in acute mental health episodes.
- Stolen personal property with no repercussion (had my entire wardrobe stolen the first week)
- Carelessness with vulnerable clients...body brokering them in for insurance payouts, then dumping them on the streets after a short detox stay.
- Discrimination in assigning needed therapies (like EMDR slots given away to specific favored people...a lot of people needed this promised therapy, few received it).
- Violent or disinterested staff who seemed unqualified or outright cruel.
- Many of you have shared similar complaints about the TAs in particular...overly aggressive, unqualified, and intimidating.
If any of that resonates, or if you have your own stories from AAC (River Oaks or other locations), please email me privately at ultra.elevens0i@icloud.com.
I can forward relevant details to potential attorneys exploring representation or class-action possibilities. No pressure...just if you're comfortable sharing to help build a stronger record. Or just to get it off your chest and document a pattern.
One thing worth naming clearly: body brokering (also called patient brokering). It's an illegal practice where middlemen ("body brokers") get paid kickbacks (often $500–$5,000 per referral) to funnel vulnerable people...usually those with good insurance or at their rope's end...into specific rehab facilities. The focus is profit over genuine care: recruit desperate folks, bill insurance heavily, provide minimal or substandard treatment, and sometimes even encourage relapse to repeat the cycle.
It's predatory, exploits trauma, and violates federal laws like the Eliminating Kickbacks in Recovery Act (EKRA). Many of us at AAC felt like we were essentially "brokered" there...treated more like revenue sources than humans in crisis. That has to change. I'm sure you all remember the hotline phone station of a sales guy convincing you AAC would save your life and provide you the best of the best.
To everyone who's lost loved ones in treatment (whether at AAC, other TTI programs, psych wards, or hospitals) you're not alone in the grief. The global consciousness is shifting; people are waking up to unsustainable, harmful practices. Abuse isn't always loud and obvious...it can be insidious, covert, neglectful and take years to fully process.
Speaking up, naming what we know is wrong, and supporting each other is how we push for accountability. Please take good care of yourselves. Don't let this cruel world erase the goodness that still exists. Reach out if you need to talk, and thank you for reading.
With hope and solidarity,
Clelia
Email Me Your Story: ultra.elevens0i@icloud.com