I Survived Wilderness Camp as a Teen—And It’s Exactly Why I Parent the Way I Do

I’ve always been indifferent to Paris Hilton, but when she went public with her experiences of childhood abuse in the documentary film This is Paris, and later became a vocal advocate for abused children, she earned my attention and my respect. See, some of my childhood experiences are very similar to hers (minus the celebrity and massive wealth that comes from being an heiress, of course).

When I was 14 years old, my relationship with my dad became very rocky. There was a lot of arguing, and when I wasn’t home, I was lying about my whereabouts and experimenting with substances. My dad was confounded by my increasingly hostile temperament. He was also concerned with my wild child ways, so he followed the advice of an “educational consultant” and sent me away from my home in Southern California to a grueling wilderness camp in the mountains of Utah for three months.

While I was not sent to this camp because of concerns over promiscuity, I was still asked many violating questions about my sexual history.

At camp, they removed all my personal effects, including a ring that belonged to my deceased mother and that I wore around my neck 24/7. After intake, the “treatment” began. While I was not sent to this camp because of concerns over promiscuity, I was still asked many violating questions about my sexual history (think: have you ever let a boy touch your vagina? Have you ever put a penis in your mouth?). When I wasn’t in group therapy, I was hiking from sun-up to sun-down, stopping only to eat cold rice and beans. I was not allowed to speak to my dad or my sisters privately the entire time I was there and my mail, including letters sent by my best friend, was intercepted and never reached me. When I asked when my time in the wilderness would come to an end and what would happen next, I was told to stay in the present.

After I was finally released, I went to a boarding school and a couple residential treatment centers next. Each one promised salvation, each one cost a fortune and each one left scars that I’m still working through in therapy today.

I spent years being furious with my dad for shipping me off to these places that caused me so much psychological harm; he has since expressed his deepest regret, and now I have nothing but compassion for him. As a widowed dad taking care of four kids (one of whom, admittedly, was a real handful), he was desperate and vulnerable. He sought help from supposed experts and ultimately got swindled in one of the worst ways a loving parent can.

My 10-year-old daughter (we’ll call her R) is not yet at the age to be involved in any of the rebellious shenanigans I got myself into during my teen years. I’m sure there will be some normal adolescent stuff, but I hope I’m able to raise her to be smart and well-adjusted enough to mostly follow the straight and narrow.

That said, the onset of puberty has already started to bring out R’s defiant streak. There’s lots of backtalk, belligerence and just generally contrary behavior. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but when you’re in the thick of it, it’s easy to panic and worry that things are starting to get out of control. I can see how a scared parent might be tempted to reach for extreme measures.

I know very well from my own childhood that my unruly behavior was really just a response to dysfunction in my home, so if my kids behave that way, the first person to go under the microscope is me.

But here’s what I’ve learned from my dad’s mistakes: Children do not need to be broken in like horses and they don’t need to be fixed. When it comes to their mental health, they don’t need a puppetmaster pulling the strings because a parent thinks they know best.  What children need is respect, honesty and a parent who models self-awareness. I know very well from my own childhood that my unruly behavior was really just a response to dysfunction in my home, so if my kids behave that way, the first person to go under the microscope is me.

A lot of parents panic when things start to feel out of hand, and that causes them to overlook one essential truth: children don’t need to be controlled, they need to be understood. That will be my mantra going forward, because anything else poses the risk of doing more harm than good, and that accidental damage can take years to repair. (I think Paris Hilton would agree!)

For this reason, I’m honing my communication skills every day, and working on having the patience to truly listen to my children instead of simply reacting to their behavior. Like the other night when R started verbally lashing out at her brother and then at me, my instinct was to fly off the handle and punish her for being so rude; instead, I asked her if she wanted to join me in my bedroom and talk about her feelings, so I could understand what was suddenly making her so angry. She cried and confessed that she didn’t actually know why she felt the way she did, so there was no great resolution, but when we emerged from the room, her attitude was different. It seems that simply listening did help her regulate.

I know now what my dad didn’t know then—what a kid needs is respect, compassion and consent, not heavy-handed interventions that disempower them. I know I’ll make mistakes as my kids grow older— but one mistake I won’t repeat is believing that controlling them is the same as helping them. Instead, I intend to give my kids the understanding I once needed most.