The restaurant had been slow, completely empty of guests by 9 pm and so we closed early that night. My last night behind a bar, my last night working as a hospitality employee, restaurant worker, server, waitress, bouncer, plate scraper, floor mopper etc. At 39, I was hanging up the proverbial apron to focus on building my new career as a Health & Wellness coach. I was scared. I was also hopeful and a bit frozen but something inside was moving me steadily forward like the hands of a clock.
Giving my two weeks’ notice was not a choice made not by my mind but by my body. I had left work mid-shift a few weeks prior because I couldn’t stop bleeding. I bled through all the period products I had brought with me in the first two hours and was bleeding through my jeans. I left shaking and had to sit on a plastic bag in the Lyft. They told me at the ER that I had bled so much I was near needing a transfusion and that the ultrasound showed my uterine fibroids had returned.
My periods had gotten heavy the last couple of months and I had just been dealing with it, pushing on with my school studies, bartending and seeing clients. I had also been pushing through the emotional signals the months prior of feeling completely exhausted the hour before heading into work, the feelings of total dread every time someone new sat at the bar, the thoughts in my head that were quietly whispering “you're wasting so much time in this place” every time someone asked me the difference between the Ranchero or Picadillo chicken. Like a knife in my brain that freaking question.
For almost 20 years I had been working nights, not drinking enough water, shoveling down high calorie restaurant food at random times., if at all. Dunking my hands in chemicals, holding my pee, not taking deep breaths, talking over loud music and all of this in fight or flight just to get people their margaritas in a timely fashion.
As I laid in bed the week after the hospital visit, thinking about how I would get back to work, I felt the enormity of my fate hanging in the balance. I opened up my laptop and Googled the prescription my doctor had written for me. “myFembree” what a bullshit name, trying to sound cutesy while it eviscerates my womanhood, drying up my beautiful vagina, creating suicidal ideation and decreased bone marrow. I had called 10 doctors already who had told me the other option to meds which I already knew was surgery. The surgery cost thousands of dollars, and my crappy insurance would only cover the shady doctor who does the old school version which takes a month plus to heal. I live alone, with no one to care for me and also yeah by the way I didn’t have extra money to pay for surgery.
My heart sank, feeling like I was alone in a hole. As I looked around at the walls of this imaginary “hole” surrounding me, I tapped into my heart center and waited. In the stillness it came to me, and spoke in one clear and calm sentence “Quit your job, prioritize your real work and your health, and you will heal.” I knew that voice, I had heard it before at pivotal points in my life and it was always dead-ass 100 percent right. The directions had been given, and in a state of outer body I watched myself type out an email of resignation to the restaurant director and hit Send.
As I wiped down the countertop thinking about the last two weeks and quietly wondering if I had blown up my entire life, my coworker Alex walked up to me and started saying “It's been (extra slow tonight)” but he held the “It's been…” right at the same pitch as the Barenaked ladies song, you know that one that talks about chinese chicken? So naturally I had to start singing it, signaling to the others that it was time to get silly. My coworker Travis ran and locked the front door, flipping the closed sign and blasting that stupid song through the speakers.
I looked at the guys laughing and resetting tables, feeling my heart swell at how lucky I was to know them and this kind of life. Restaurants have a way of collecting some of the most free spirited minds of our times. These passionate, non-conformist artists, who have said “fuck it” so many times to the social pressures, comfort, marriage, 9-5s, their families ideas, holiday plans, sleep, eating normally, dating normally, living normally, being treated less than by almost everyone they encounter, every single fucking day, all to follow their goddamn dreams and passions.
I went to the alley to throw away the garbage, clocking that it was the last time I would have to smell that awful dumpster stench and laughed as I realized even that was making me nostalgic. I returned to the dining room and saw one of our neighbors Phil knocking, asking to come in to say goodbye to me. Phil was an older gentleman, always giving us football scores and asking why we didn’t have TV’s. He hardly ever ordered anything but would always give me a couple dollars for a glass of water and conversation. But that night he remembered it was my last shift and had come to say goodbye to me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and said “Cam you’ve got a poop-load of stuff on you. But you’re in the faith business now so you’ve gotta have faith” I thanked him for this hilariously worded yet very hard-earned bit of advice he had given me from the center of himself, a place I sensed he rarely shows.
The chefs and cooks were walking out now, with their backpacks and knives. They had been laughing at our singing and tolerating our antics but now had come to say goodbye. I wanted to cry but was also trying to not make it weird. “Back Of House” are a goddamn strong breed, and in some very real ways guardian angels, making everything around you happen with sheer determination and persistence. The BOH had always held up an example of levity, mastery, and humanity. As they gave me their well wishes and gentle hugs, I felt my heart break a little deeper.
Then Alex left with a hug and loving words, what a funny human who I know I will still see around but as we hugged I could really feel that I was separating myself from this world in a permanent way.
The lights were almost all off, I looked over to see my old friend Travis waiting in the server station. I had worked with this sweet guy 12 years ago at a different restaurant, when I had first moved to Los Angeles. I was a scared little fish out of water back then, not knowing up from down and Travis was this nice, healthy, super connected, working actor dude. I remember he told me to get into yoga if I wanted to survive the city. I had followed his advice, and it ultimately led me to my passion for wellness and healing.
Travis has a creative charisma that steps into a room before his human form. He is a rare, natural born star. I watched him get talked down to by countless douchebags in suits he could’ve run intellectual circles around but he did it all gracefully with a warm smile and a twinkle in his eye. He was a real friend who lifted me up at every opportunity and I was dreading saying goodbye.
But it was now our moment, and he spoke first “Cam I am so proud of you for prioritizing your healing and believing in your future. You are leading by example and it's an inspiration to me.” We hugged and as we pulled back I squared him in the eyes, gathered my energy in my center and said “I need you to hear me when I say this…” I paused and felt his energy shift to his center too “Travis,” I said “you are SO so special” as he began to shift and soften, I suddenly saw his child self appear before me. He looked so open and pure, tears forming in his eyes as he did the internal work to receive what I was saying. “Do you hear me?? You are so gifted, you are so special, you have everything you need to do everything you dream.” We hugged again and I knew I was finished. Shortly after my Lyft arrived, Travis locked the door behind me with a smile, and I went home to live the next chapter of my life.
It's been 2 months now since I left my restaurant job to focus on healing myself and others. My symptoms have almost completely disappeared and my body is functioning higher on every level. I didn’t have surgery or take pharmaceuticals yet and am hoping it continues. My womanhood has synced up again to the rhythms of the earth, with the help of well researched herbs, conscious clean eating and daily yoga. What I have learned is that my body was not ruining my life when it started to bleed, it was saving my life with its loud message and opening the portal for me to step into my purpose.
© 2024 Camber Spring Gleim. All rights reserved.
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