Transcript of Edge Note: What If Rehab Rejects You?

Welcome to Notes from the Edge, where we have the conversations we should have been having all along. We talk about the things that we're not talking about. I'm your host, Lisa Lacey, writer, trauma educator, executive advisor, and author of the upcoming memoir Notes from a Certified Madwoman. Welcome to The Edge.

Welcome to another episode of Notes from the Edge. I'm your host, Lisa Lacey, and this is the place we have the conversations we should have been having all along. Today we're going to be talking about when I got kicked out of outpatient rehab for playing the bullshit game. Seriously, I was doing exactly what they told me to do, and apparently I was a little too fucking good at it. Let me explain.

I was 40 years old the day of my birthday. I voluntarily entered outpatient rehabilitation after completing treatment at a high-end inpatient facility. I was trying to figure out what the hell happened to my life. I was lost, I was confused, I was angry, and I was beginning to understand that what I thought was a bad marriage and a drinking problem was actually my much more complicated picture involving trauma, mental illness, addiction, and years of survival. I wasn't particularly thrilled about being in another rehabilitation facility, especially on my 40th birthday, but I was there voluntarily because I wanted answers.

I wanted to get better, and most importantly, I wanted to understand who I was and what was happening to me. Unfortunately, the facility that we're about to discover to discover had very different ideas about what recovery should look like. Now, this particular facility was what I would describe as a painfully outdated, patriarchal, rigid, operating from a model that had already— I had already begun questioning. And trust me, I questioned it loudly. I questioned the science, I questioned the methods, I questioned the cost.

Because when somebody is paying an extraordinary amount of money for treatment, I think it's personally reasonable to ask whether the treatment is actually helping. But then came the bullshit game. Yes, the actual bullshit game. Picture a room full of people sitting in a circle. There's a facilitator asking questions and everyone takes turns sharing something about their lives, except there's a little button, a novelty button, like something you would find in an old school cool joke shop, and written across the top is the word bullshit.

And when you press it, it says bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. And that was the game. When somebody was sharing and you believed they were being dishonest, you were supposed to push the button. We were literally being encouraged to call each other out. Now, if you've spent any time around me, you probably already see where this is going, because I have always had a very strong sense of justice, and I have never been particularly talented at pretending I believe something when I don't.

There was a woman in our group who, from what she shared, was involved in an affair with her married neighbor, a man whose wife and family lived right there in the community. And she was upset because she couldn't figure out how to get her children to soccer practice. She wasn't working outside the home at the time. She was describing how difficult her circumstances were. Now, I'm going to be transparent about something.

I have very strong feelings about people who knowingly become involved with married partners Especially when children and family are involved. Those feelings didn't appear out of nowhere. I had spent more than over a decade in a marriage where chronic infidelity was a consistent issue. I was the primary financial provider for a family of 5, and I knew what betrayal could do to a household. I knew what it could cost somebody's sense of safety, and I knew what it felt like to be the other person keeping everything together while somebody else was tearing it apart.

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With no seller fees, you keep every dollar you earn. Now here's where things got interesting. Remember, the assignment was to call bullshit when we believe somebody wasn't being honest. So I did. I hit the button.

Bullshit. She kept talking. I hit it again. Bullshit. And again.

And apparently I hit that damn button enough times that she started crying. The facilitator stopped the exercise and I was told I needed to apologize. I refused, not because I think making somebody cry is an accomplishment, but— and it wasn't— but because I had been instructed to participate in an exercise designed to confront dishonesty, and suddenly I was being reprimanded for doing exactly that. Was I bringing my own lived experience into that room? No doubt.

Was my anger influencing how I responded? Of course it was. Could I have approached the situation differently? Sure. But here's the bigger question.

What kind of therapeutic environment hands a room full of people struggling with trauma, addiction, shame, and emotional dysregulation a button that screams bullshit at one another and then acts surprised when somebody gets hurt? Think about that. Were we supposed to be learning emotional regulation? Were we supposed to be exploring accountability? Were we supposed to be developing healthier ways to communicate?

And instead, we were sitting in a circle publicly challenging each other's honesty with a novelty button. Now accountability absolutely has a place in recovery. So does honesty. But accountability without psychological safety can quickly become humiliation. And confrontation without compassion isn't automatically therapeutic just because it happens inside a treatment facility.

By the following Monday, I was informed that my anger was above their pay grade, kicked out, and not given a refund. Those were their words. My anger was above their pay grade and I was no longer welcome in the program. I had been kicked out of a rehabilitation facility I voluntarily entered because I was trying to get better. And I'll tell you something.

That experience could have completely derailed my recovery because when you've been struggling with your mental health, trauma, addiction, and an identity that's falling apart, the last thing you need is another institution making you feel like you're too much, too angry, complicated, difficult, too broken to help. But what I've come to understand over the years is that sometimes the problem isn't that you are incapable of recovery. Sometimes you're simply in an environment that isn't equipped to support the kind of recovery you need. And those are two Very different things. Now I want to be clear about something.

I am not suggesting that every time treatment makes you uncomfortable, you should walk away.

Recovery is uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. Accountability is not so great. Being confronted with patterns that are destroying your life can be extraordinarily awkward. And sometimes the things we need most to hear are the things we don't want to hear. But discomfort and harm are not interchangeable, and neither are accountability and shame.

I needed help with addiction and understanding my mental health and needed trauma-informed support. I needed professionals who understood that anger wasn't necessarily the primary problem. Sometimes anger is what develops when somebody has spent years without safety, autonomy, or a voice. Anger is grief with nowhere to go. Sometimes it's fear, the nervous system responding to a lifetime of perceived or actual threats.

And yes, anger is something we need to learn to manage so we don't hurt ourselves and other people. All those things can be true, but if you only address the anger without understanding what's underneath it, you may miss the person who desperately needs help. And that's what I want you to hear today. Recovery is not one size fits all. What works beautifully for one person may be completely inappropriate for another.

One person may thrive in traditional 12-step program, another person may benefit from individual psychotherapy, and another may need integrated treatment for trauma, addiction, and co-occurring mental health conditions. Some people benefit from medication, some need specialized psychiatric care, others find meaningful additional support through community peer recovery groups, mindfulness, movement, spiritual practices. Many of us need a combination of all of that. So the point is not to find the one perfect recovery philosophy. The point is to find qualified support and an approach that actually helps you build a healthier And if the first approach doesn't work, you keep looking.

You ask questions, you advocate for yourself and seek another professional opinion. Find clinicians who understand your history and your needs and don't assume that because one program couldn't help you, nobody can. You don't get confused by being rejected because it's not you sometimes. Think about the bullshit button. And there's always something comical about that entire experience.

A woman with a lifetime of unresolved trauma sitting in a treatment center on her 40th birthday, being handed a button that screams bullshit. What exactly did they think was going to happen? But I also think about how different that experience might have been if somebody had stopped and asked me a different question. Not why are you so angry, but what happened to you that makes this situation feel so threatening? Not, why can't you apologize?

But what is this bringing up for you? And not, your anger is above our pay grade, but what kind of support do you need that we may not have provided so far? Those are very different conversations, and those conversations are the ones that change lives. Today I can look back on that experience with humor, perspective, and a much deeper understanding of myself. I can recognize that my sense of justice was real, So was my anger and so was my pain and my responsibility for how I expressed those things was real too but none of that meant I was incapable of healing.

It meant I needed a different kind of support. So if you're listening to this today and you've tried therapy, rehabilitation a number of times, recovery groups or mental health treatment that didn't seem to work for you, I want you to remember something. A treatment approach failing to meet your needs Does not mean you have failed at it. Try something new. There are so many modalities out there for healing from trauma and mental health and mental illness and addiction.

We are so blessed to have so many now. So if one doesn't work for you, don't shame spiral and blame yourself. Try another and try another and try another and combine them if you need to until you find something that fits your build and design. I'm Lisa Lacey, your host. I'm going to ask you today, what are you performing in order to survive or just get by?

And what might letting go of that role, mask, or performance Do for your life today to lighten your load just a little bit so you can find the right kind of support. If you're struggling today, let someone know. Start with yourself, and we will see you at the edge.