I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I didn’t take one blog note during service tonight.  

I’ll pull one from my list from yesterday. Which was actually from my list on Thursday that I didn’t bring home.

Around 6:45 on Thursday, a server comes to the host stand to check in, and says, “you seem off tonight.”  

I looked at her and didn’t say anything.

She asks if I’m having a bad night, and if everything is okay.

In truth, it was a bad night. For reasons, I won’t go into. I was on the struggle bus.

Most nights, and I do mean most nights, my staff has no idea that I’m struggling.  

For example, when I started my job at the Irish pub, I’d returned home from my mom’s funeral four days prior to my first shift. I’d go in every day, with a smile on my face, and I don’t think anyone knew that I wasn’t feeling it.

Sometimes, however, even I can’t hide it.

Thursday was one of those days.  

On those days, I scheme my exit strategy.  

From the job, from life, from the world.  

I don’t mean suicidal.  

I just mean sometimes when I’m truly struggling, I dream about getting in my car and just driving away. Drive to Seattle, or to Madison, or to Providence, or to Sacramento.  

Go someplace new, and just start over.  

I’d never do it.  

I love my life. I love Adam. I love my job.  

But sometimes, just to be someone new, in a different city, state, country feels like it might be the answer.  

A couple of times in my life I have done so. Put my shit in a truck and just driven away. To NYC. To Atlanta. To San Diego.

But I didn’t have this life back then, and perhaps if I’d stayed put, I’d have found this life sooner.  

Not to get off subject, but I met Adam in 2001, selling merchandise at a musical in NYC. I can still remember him as he sold me the CD of the cast recording. So maybe if I’d stayed, I really would have had this life sooner.  

That being said, long before I met Adam, I had a therapist, who for all of his faults, helped me to learn that the struggle will lift. The depression will lift. The despair will lift.  

I just have to be patient.  

I knew this after my mom’s funeral.  

I knew this when I tried to stop taking my meds and crashed and burned.

I knew this when I lost my job in 2017.

I knew this when depression set in during the pandemic.  

I just have to hold my breath and wait.  

It will lift.  

It always has and always will. I just have to wait for it, which sometimes feels like a lie, but it’s always lifted.  

Even when I was at my most depressed back in 1995, it eventually lifted and I was the better for it.

I was on the struggle bus on Thursday. And some of my staff could see tell. Sometimes, I feel like I’m letting them down, when I’m not able to put on a happy face.  

However, when they ask, I own it. Yes. I’m struggling today. I’m not feeling it. I am tired. And anxious. I need to focus on getting through the night. I get quiet. I tend to stick to myself. I don’t joke. I usually plant myself in a corner somewhere and wait.  

I also tell myself, that 99.999% of the time, it’s absolutely nothing, that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.  

That was the case when I woke up on Friday, went to work, had a great shift, and couldn’t remember what the problem was on Thursday.  

Take my word, it does get better.  

It always gets better.  

Even when it doesn’t seem like it will  

Just keep on, keeping on, and you’ll come out the other side.

I promise.  

It’s been over 40 years, and I haven’t been wrong yet.