Uh, yeah, I had a referral... from the doc at the county crisis center (after repeated ‘visits’) straight to the main campus of the state-run towering mental hospital. Three+ years, if that’s long-term enough for ya. (Eight years in a psych wing of a nursing home, but who’s counting?)

These places are so much more horrific than can be imagined. They screen staff to weed out the non-malevolent and the uncruel. Extra points awarded for demeaning and/or belittling patients; steak dinners for staff who can bring about physical harm with the best ‘patient was presenting physical harm to self or others’ write-up.

There is no order. People go without showering until forcibly bathed. They crap their pants and go for days without notice. It’s okay if you wanna sleep away that daily dose of 2000mg of Thorazine. Nobody cares. Miss your daily 15-minute visit with your shrink? Nobody cares. Game boxes, puzzles and card decks are all missing pieces. Do you really believe that holidays will be any different than any other day? No and hell, no. The best spiritual exercises take place in filthy shower stalls with wooden-slat flooring. Laundry is sporadic and you will forever be wearing someone else’s clothes. No books, just gardening, decorating and yacht magazines.

You would think that going outside for a smoke would be blissful. But the rules change from week-to-week and you have a single staff member handing out cigarettes to one-hundred patients and if you miss that 15-minute gap you must wait another four-hours to catch a puff.

I’m not sure how I survived, really. I was in a deep, deep BP MDD state with occasional hypomania. And psychotic. And mute until some genius doc put me into the ECT rotation.

I remember two things. I remember the random-pattern of brownish specks of paint on the tan cinderblock walls. And the smells.

Life in a state-run long-term mental hospital sucks. You go to sleep feeling hopeless and you awake with morbid hopelessness.

Now my first stints in a short-term private clinic? Sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll! But the insurance ran out.

I guess that there may be private long-term mental facilities? Mmm... I don’t know; that sounds like a private room in a corporate nursing home psych wing.