by Roshelley Mayèn

So i heard you lost a star today. The fear i felt when i heard this was ‘oh fuck. Those beautiful humans who work in those place are about to get it.’ The fear of the wrath that comes from being so high up and falling is one id rather not be privy to, or know about, but it’s one i’m all too familiar with. Growing up in this industry for the last 20 years has filled me with more anxiety, depression, doubt and anger than i would have liked to carry throughout the rest of my life.

Even standing up here right now brings me so much fear. In my head i think, am i good enough to be in front of y’all? I’m nobody.

Or at least i was somebody when i worked at the right place. And when i did, man, i felt like a star everyday. I was somebody.

But as soon as i was discarded, how quickly the dark clouds came to shadow me. I was nobody again. And crawling out of that is really fucking hard.

You go through a while identity crisis based upon a space that is so well known with all its charm and glitter and dry ice shows. But the inside. The inside is cold, callous, calculated. It reminds you everyday that there’s somebody at the back door waiting to replace you. That you could be better, move faster, cut sharper. But when they’re done with you, you’re done.

It took me a long time to find value in myself outside of where i worked. Writing did that for me. Being able to put pen to paper and get all these dark and clouded thoughts out of my head. It didn’t start that way though. I used to write whimsical poetry when i was younger. I would write short stories about people i saw on the street or when wed be in the car and i saw a cluster of houses or the refineries, id invent whole lives for the people who lived there. All ending in happiness. I used to be really soft. Like a field of buttercups or the velvet bucket seats in my tíos truck. And then i became really hard and tough. Scared of my own self. I learned that if your bite wasn’t as hard as the person barking at you, then you would be cut. I was taught fear would beget results. But all it did was alienate and scare. It created an anger i didn’t know i had.

Have you ever heard someone yell, “YOU SHOULD’VE NEVER BEEN BORN! YOUR MOTHER SHOULD’VE SWALLOWED YOU!”, to an individual separating the most colorful, radiant micro flowers from the local farm? It’s hard to imagine those two things juxtaposed together.

Or has anybody screamed at you for miscounting the reservation add on for a 125$ seafood tower, so instead of making 10 hand carved ice bowls, you make 5, so now you’re worthless, stupid and look better with a mop in your hand? All while lemon is being juiced around you? The smell is so bright and loving. It reminds me of when we would be at the end of cleaning on a sunday afternoon and the house would radiate of lemon pine sol all throughout before my mom would take us for raspas and tacos for a job well done. Well now you’ve tainted my childhood because i’m a fucking idiot. My bad chef. Thanks for the memories.

I developed habits and ticks to ensure my own self preservation and that resulted in rocking myself to sleep with a bump of coke and a shot of whiskey or tequila or mezcal when it was rough. The loud voices that were in my head were stronger telling me i was nothing more than a number. I was nobody.

It took a while to melt that part of me to remember i was so much more than the work i did. While it looks pretty and tastes damn delicious, I wasn’t doing anything for me. The industry just always took from me. And now here i am in front of y’all, baring my soul and heart, but i’m only able to do that because of the people in my life now. And I’ve met some of the greatest shorties along the way so I can’t entirely shit on this whole industry because it has given me so much, on top of all the mental illnesses, of course.

And for that i’m grateful. But i’m most proud of the love i have now and where i am now. The softness i’m slowly enveloping.

Because while you lost a star, i’m finally remembering the star i’ve always been.

And that’s show biz, baby.

Enjoy Roshelley’s Oaxaca with a View cocktail recipe.