One Flew East, One Flew West
Once a year, I take a vacation. I would take one more frequently, but my insurance won't cover it.
Two weeks of horseback riding, swimming, tennis, yoga, group therapy, meds, and some time in the Quiet Room always refreshes me. Also, I love Arts & Crafts.
I know it seems a little extreme to vacation in a state-of-the-art Nut House. I could just take a Club Med vacation, but the good people at Club Med aren't as all inclusive as they claim to be. You are on your own for drugs. At my preferred vacation spot, the drugs are included and you get to take some home with you at the end of your stay.
The med line is a bit inconvenient. I never like to wait in line. But when that little white paper cup is in my hand and I have tongued the pink ones for the girl down the hall who trades me for her yellow pills, the wait seems insignificant.
I have pretty good insurance. Other people aren't so lucky. It's not always easy to get accepted. Either I have to wait for someone to hang themselves in their sheets or I have to sell myself. Sometimes, I have to develop a facial tic. Other times, I have to wrap myself in tin foil and stand on the roof holding a wire hanger to talk to the aliens (they come in peace). Last time, I took to crafting clever little magnetic poems in the admissions lobby. I knew that it was a test. I wrote:
This solitary thought
A brilliant storm
I am beside myself
Then, I refused to answer any questions directed toward Mist 1. "Mist isn't here right now."
It's more than just good insurance. It takes a certain amount of skill too.
Of course, if that doesn't work, I suppose sleeping with the clinical director couldn't hurt.