Good-bye, Downtown Diner

Dear Downtown Diner Owners,

I am officially severing our business relationship. It’s been good … okay, well, it was good. But, recently, things have taken a bad turn. I can no longer ignore it. Admittedly, I’ve been trying to ignore the downward spiral. There’s a bit of shame in my admission that I held on longer than I should have because I really covet your meatloaf panini special. I love how you place meatloaf slices with bacon, caramelized onions, and mozzarella cheese between pita bread and press it all in a panini press. I’m guilty of overlooking your wrongs because of this dish and a few others, but the meatloaf panini is my favorite.

My first clue fell in my lap when I came in on a recent Sunday for breakfast, and business was slow enough that you both had time chat with me. Here’s some advice: Don’t trash talk your wait staff to me. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know. I come to your place to eat because I need a respite from the grind of my day. I come for a bit of an escape, and the comfort of your good food. I don’t want to hear about your HR problems, especially since these same people serve me on a regular basis.

But even worse than trash talking your wait staff is the fact that you trashed one particular person because she has a mental illness. I still shudder at the fact that I didn’t stop patronizing your business the moment this happened. I knew even in the moment when you described her bipolar behavior to me, and subsequently trashed her, that I should have fled the scene. I’ll admit I felt awkward later with all my unsolicited behind-the-scenes knowledge any time I was there. But, I would think back to your dreamy meatloaf, and just shake off my nagging feelings.

You see, you should know better for so many reasons. Let me count the ways … Patrons don’t want to hear bad stuff about your peeps. They want the illusion of a well-oiled machine, whether or not that is the case. Also, you should be careful. You’re an employer, for god’s sake. Trash talking your employee because of her disability puts you in potential hot water. Get a brain about this HR stuff if you want to continue to make your living as an employer.

The other thing to consider is that you never really know who you’re talking to when you’re making chit-chat. You think you may know me well because I told you both I’m in sobriety, and I don’t drink. But that tidbit doesn’t even scratch the surface of who I am. I, myself, have PTSD and dissociative identity disorder. I know that it’s likely you never would have guessed this about me as you know what I do for a living, and you see me with all my colleagues having lunch in your diner. But, I am a person with a mental illness. I work hard to maintain my ability to work, but that’s because I’m fortunate enough that I can afford the treatment that I need. Remember when I asked you if you had suggested to your waitress that she go to the county mental health center? Do you recall how I was trying to tell you how to advise her to access mental health services? If you were smart enough you would have concluded that I’d had a few rodeos myself, and there was a reason I knew how to get “in the system.” Lesson: mentally ill people are sensitive to other mentally ill peers getting trashed simply because they’re mentally ill.

Don’t worry. I won’t trash review you on yelp, or anywhere else. Okay, yes, I’m trashing you here, but no one knows your name here. Your stupidity is safe here. But, really, get a brain, and kiss the meatloaf good-bye for me. We had a good run, me and that meatloaf.

Beatriz

Somehow, I’ve become an annoying person

I am not sure how this happened, but somewhere along the way, I’ve become annoying. I’ve not yet assessed whether I’ve been this way the entirety of my life thus far, or if I became this way as a result of living such a solitary life for the last 5 years.

I always prided myself on my ability to read people, as well as my ability to assess when people have met their capacity with listening to me, or having me over as company. But, the news is in, people! I no longer have any idea when I cross the line into annoying, or when I’ve overstayed. How can I no longer know this, no longer possess the ability to know how much is too much?

It’s like the start of losing one’s faculties, or at least it seems that way. It feels that way because these are basics: knowing when to stop talking, when to leave, when to give someone silence.

Is this what happens to us when we spend a vast amount of time alone? Is this built into the price of mental illness?

The loneliness, and hunger for human connection has turned me into a person to avoid. The reality of the previous sentence is heavy on my heart and mind.

The thing I want more than anything in the world is beginning to look eternally out of my reach. All I’m looking for is sustained human connection. That is it, emphasis on the word sustained.

I used to know these things. I used to know when to end a conversation, when to leave, when to give a person silence.

How do I get these things back?

The only holiday song I like

English: The Carol of Lights at Texas Tech Uni...

Dear Ted,

I hate Christmas music, with one exception, “O Holy Night.” Driving home my finger accidentally hit the station number that has holiday music on 24/7 from now until Christmas. When that happens my body usually tenses up anytime I hear the first notes of holiday schmaltz take over the interior of my car. But as soon as I heard “O Holy Night” come through the speakers I just smiled and sighed because you will always be that song for me, always, for the rest of my days on this earth.

It was nearly 20 years ago that we celebrated the Carol of Lights at Texas Tech University. The air was chilly and cold, without snow, in that typical Panhandle Texas way that winter would give us cold without snow. The whole campus is lit up at once in holiday lights galore with the tradition of a soloist singing “O Holy Night.” You’re holding me against you, and you can’t help but whisper the words to the song in my ear as the soloist sings. I can still hear your slightly twangy, yet distinguished, smarty sounding voice. I loved the strange combination of the Texas twang with a certain je ne sais quoi that gave you that nerdy cache that had me from the start.

“The thrill of hope …” was everywhere. Your whispered song was hope set free, and for that moment in time all was well. I am glad that neither of us knew that I would break your heart, and leave you for someone who would turn out to be a not very good choice for me, someone with whom I would ultimately stay with for 10 years out of the belief that I deserved no better. I had no idea that we would wind up dating when I was frequently phoning you as assistant stage manager because you failed to make rehearsal yet again. You were frequently tardy or absent, and your sheer talent is the only thing that kept you in the cast, that and your sweet demeanor.

“… the soul felt it’s worth …” You were the first person to ever really show me the worth of my soul. I was not ready to truly learn that worth, but I’ve never forgotten that you certainly tried. Do you remember the time I tried telling you I was bisexual, and that I had feelings for someone else? You only picked up on the bisexual part of what I was telling you. I still recall what you told me as we ate in my favorite Vietnamese restaurant, “It doesn’t matter to me that you’re bisexual. I still love you.”

“… a new and glorious morn …” dawned for us separately. Much, much later I learned that I have DID, and I am now beginning to understand the system within me that caused me to make chaotic decisions in my life, specifically, the decision I made to cheat on you and leave you. I am so glad that you found happiness elsewhere with someone else. I wish I could have/would have treated you differently. But things happened as they happened, and the only peace I have is that you are happy. I finally have some answers, and that has to be enough.

But, yes, for that moment in time it was a divine night.

All my best,

Beatriz

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)