That's right. I had to go stay in a "mental health facility" (but I usually think of it as a "looney bin," even though I know that's totally un-PC), and just in case us patients didn't feel shitty enough, the place was pumping Christmas music through the stereo in all the common areas 24/7. And it wasn't even Thanksgiving, for God's sake!
Plus, it was bad Christmas music -- I heard Mariah Carey more than once. Thankfully I didn't hear that damn hippopotamus song, because I probably would have ended up restrained, or taken to the "tub room" (I actually don't know what the "tub room" is, but there was a door by my room marked as such and I've seen enough bad movies and House reruns to conjure up images of a big basin floating with ice cubes they dunk you in to calm you down).
As a result of the holiday cheer onslaught, I've put a moratorium on Christmas music at my house for at least another week, unless it's instrumental/ambient or classical (like, no lyrics classical -- not Bing Crosby classical) Christmas music. Frankly, as I get older, I like that kind of Christmas music better anyway.
I'm not trying to make light of my stay at the Lindner Center (which is really the absolute opposite of a "looney bin" -- it's beautiful, bright, and modern with a very caring staff and doctors, Christmas music aside). But I actually have so much I want to say about my stay there, what I learned, what medications I'm now on -- and how I got to be in such a crisis state that I had to go stay there -- that I'm still trying to organize it all in my mind.
I will say that I almost kissed the psychiatrist, though, when she informed my husband that no amount of exercise, "good eating," or other coping mechanisms would have helped me get out of the funk that brought me there. I had to stop myself from jumping up, doing a little dance, and screaming, "I F*CKING TOLD YOU SO!"
But I'm classy, and very magnanimous, so I didn't.
I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!
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