TURNING THEIR LIVES AROUND

As much as she's excited to see her son again and move back to the 'real'
world, Lauren Dick is also afraid.

Couched within the safety of the Stonehenge Therapeutic Community, with a
structured programme to fill her day and emotional support from staff and
fellow residents, the 37-year-old Scarborough woman knows that here she can
put her 22-year cocaine addiction behind her.

But out there?

"I'm very scared. I know the stats for relapse are very high and I know that
no matter how clean I am in here, the real test is out there.

"But I have good supports and I'm working on recognizing the things that are
triggers for me. And Stonehenge has given me some tools to cope. Hopefully
I'll use those tools when I get stressed and not fall back on drugs," she
said.

Self-help groups like Narcotics Anonymous can be enough for some drug users
to kick the habit.

Others benefit from 30-day programmes like those offered at the Centre for
Addiction and Mental Health in Toronto and the Homewood Health Centre in
Guelph.

Then there are those who need intense and long-term counselling to change
their lives around.

"You have to match the right person with the right treatment programme and
find the one that works," said Stonehenge executive director Heather Kerr.

"Our clients are serious addicts with chronic drug problems and almost all
have tried other programmes before coming here. We're the last stop for many
of them."

The therapeutic community model of treatment was very popular in the 1970's
both in Europe and in North America, when Guelph psychiatrist Dr. John M.
Dougan decided Guelph needed one, too.

Dougan was chief of psychiatry at the Guelph Community Psychiatric Hospital,
now the Homewood, and he worked to first build a board of directors, then
build some funding and finally build a place where addicts could live, work,
and undergo therapy.

The goal for these troubled, chronic users, is to change the lifestyle that
supports the habit and to understand why they turned to drugs in the first
place.

Residents at Stonehenge prepare all meals, clean, do laundry and maintain
the grounds in a day that begins with morning exercise and includes group
and individual counselling.

There's reading, homework, art therapy and anger management sessions. There
are also visits with family and weekends away as residents progress through
the phases of the programme.

Dick came to Stonehenge in March and said she was suicidal at the time. She
was 15 when she did her first line of coke on the mirror of a Harley
Davidson, she said -- a dramatic beginning to a dangerous path of bikers,
crime, stripping and a series of violent relationships with men.

Although she voluntarily sought treatment at Stonehenge, "I still walked in
fighting," she said. "All the rules sucked, the people sucked, and more than
anything, I believed that I sucked too.

"After years of being the biggest liar and the biggest secret-keeper -- that
is how addicts exist after all, lies and secrets -- I had to surrender
myself to this place. I felt like I was thrown in the water with no life
jacket.

I had to adopt a blind faith. As I learned to trust other people, I learned
to trust myself as well."

Stonehenge opened in 1971 in Guelph, moved to larger property in Belwood and
then in 1981 a stone home on Hwy. 24 between Guelph and Cambridge was
purchased.

The old stone house is now called Dougan House. A more modern Viceroy home
was built next door in 1989 and although Stonehenge has always been co-ed,
this year a third location exclusively for women opened in Guelph.

Clients at Stonehenge may stay up to six months and attend weekly outreach
sessions for up to two years. At first blush the rolling grounds, majestic
stone buildings and the rural atmosphere can lull the observer into
believing Stonehenge is more retreat than treatment centre.

"We hear that a lot," said Kerr, "but believe me, a lot of work goes on
here. Really hard work. It's no picnic."

The Hwy. 24 site can accommodate up to 34 clients -- about half come through
provincial and federal correctional services and the others through medical
referrals.

The women's facility can take eight to 10 women and as the programme gets
established, Kerr said Stonehenge hopes to accommodate the children of its
female clients.

The Ministry of Health, the Ministry of Public Safety and Security, and
Corrections Canada pay the lion's share of Stonehenge's $1.4- million annual
budget.

"It's so much better for the women being here," said Dick of the women's
centre.

"Most if not all of the women have issues about men they need to work out.
And many of the men have power and control issues with women. You see the
new women gravitate to the men and vice versa. Old habits are hard to
shake."

Kerr said new research shows that men and women need different treatment
programmes and that the fear of losing their children often keeps mothers
and pregnant women from seeking help.

Yvette Prince was two-weeks clean but very close to delivering her second
child when she arrived at Stonehenge. In fact, she had her baby, a girl, the
very day after being admitted.

"I fought it. I didn't want to face what I had to face and I was really
afraid they would take my daughter. I felt guilt, shame and low self
esteem," Prince said.

Prince, 34, was bubbling with anticipation last Friday, anxiously awaiting
the arrival of her daughter. She sees her three times a week and while it's
not as often as she'd like, mother and baby are beginning to bond.

Her eyes soften and her face beams with pride as she holds her baby.

"She knows who I am and she responds to me. And she's learned how to smile,"
she said, turning the bundle in her arms for all to admire. " I'm here for
me, but I'm here for her too. I have to set an example."

There is an air of summer camp at the centre, especially at the recognition
lunch held every Friday. As the residents and staff cram into the dining
room to eat together, there's good-natured teasing and plenty of laughter.

But there's a serious side to the lunch. Some residents are 'graduating'
from the programme and have mixed emotions about leaving. Some have gained
ground during group sessions in the week and are honoured for their
accomplishments.

The speeches are touching, the gratitude of the residents is heartfelt, and
the bond among the group is tight.

"It's very intense and very intimate," said Johnny Fung, 33, who came to
Stonehenge three months ago after trying short-term rehabilitation
programmes in Toronto.

"There are things I had never shared with anyone that I've shared with this
group. You really have to come clean -- first with other people but in the
end, you have to be honest with yourself.

"That's what's happening here and it's amazing to me. I'm starting to like
the man I see in the mirror."