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

Why I will l not watch the Hunger Games

Hunger is life changing. When you have felt true hunger in your life it never leaves you. It clings to you like a bad memory of food poisoning that repels you from the food culprit that led to your illness. However, in this case, the reverse happens: you are instead drawn to food because of your past experience with hunger.

Hunger haunts you even in those innocuous moments when you don’t have time to eat breakfast, and your mind starts to freak out on you simply because you are hungry. Your freak out is not due to low blood sugar. The feeling of hunger takes you back to that time when you and your two sisters had to share a small frozen pizza between the three of you, and there was nothing else to eat. Hunger takes you back to searching in vain for something to eat while your mother holed up in her room with the blinds drawn, the lights out, and the door closed. At 6 years old your resourcefulness could only take you so far.

But, in fact, you were resourceful. You learned that watermelon was served during the summer lunch program, but, your understanding was that you needed to be in summer school in order to get a free lunch. So, you showed up to school one day, and declared that you needed summer school. You were so persistent they didn’t know what to do with you so they let you read books all day and play with the felt board. You were fine with that arrangement.

Then there was the time you learned how to make deviled eggs on the television show 3-2-1 Contact. You were thrilled beyond belief because this was something you and your sister could make on the nights your mother holed up in her room, which was most nights.

Your reactions around food are not muted, nor are they discreet. God help the person that tries to start a conversation with you while you are holding your tuna melt that you just purchased. You have a short capacity for waiting to eat something once it’s in your hands ready for consumption. Your brain cannot fathom ignoring a hot tuna melt in your hand for a two minute conversation.

You do know that you are no longer in danger of going hungry, but your brain is mixed up on this issue. Part of your brain knows that you have a good job, and you can feed yourself now as an adult, but another part of your brain still lives in that scary place called hunger. So, why would you want to see a movie depicting this feeling … this horrifying feeling likely not intimately known by most movie goers of The Hunger Games?

DID is leaking into my favorite coffee shop

According to Doc, I am in the midst of integration,and with that comes all sorts of weirdness, confusion and chaos.

Today I walked into my favorite coffee shop to get my trusty and reliable Zen and Now green tea, which is just green tea with mint and lemongrass. The owner of the shop is this sweet tall guy that talks me up every now and again. The shop is the size of a shoe box, and he is forever rearranging the place trying to find the right feng shui. It’s really kind of cute how he’s optimistic that he can find just the right layout with enough effort.

His latest configuration has it set up where the baking area is open so that anyone walking in can see the owner baking. It’s actually his best configuration yet. I hope he keeps it. I walked in, and saw him furiously mixing, and I asked him what he was making. When he answered me the world became fuzzy on me. As he was speaking to me I became aware that I was not hearing all of what he was saying. It was akin to a cell phone call that was breaking up. After he repeated what he was making I gathered that he was making “Kitchen Sink Oatmeal Cookies,”never knew that’s what he called them. But then he said something about coming me around to where he was baking, or perhaps he said people want to come around and see what he’s doing … Oh! I don’t know what he said because his words became broken up again, like the breaking up cell phone call except that it’s live and in person. Very weird. I finally just said I would see him later. I think I missed a critical part of the conversation because he had this confused look on his face. Arrrggh! It vexes me that my own internal chaos is leaking into my places of comfort.

I don’t know why I had trouble being fully present when people were speaking to me today. Thankfully, I didn’t have a lot of interaction with people at work today. At least my weirdness didn’t leak there.