#that was actually a preexisting tag- nice. To be fair- it was probably me who used that tag before...shrugs...

[smsvisao]

2385 Rowing St.

Should've never opened it. The contents of the manila folder fucked him up more than one of Youssef's favorite Xanax cocktails. 

His stomach was twisting around his spine and his temples throbbed. Every breath he took threatened to expel the food he'd eaten earlier. The sun outside had long set on the building and he couldn't pull himself up from the chair to turn on the light in the room.

The siren of an ambulance rang through the streets outside and sent chills down his spine. He wasn't even there the night his father died. He didn't even know his father. But he bet the sirens sounded the same back then as they did now. His fingers shook over the copy of a black and white photograph of a bride and groom sitting sweetly on the steps of a modest cathedral. The bride with her face tucked shyly into the embrace of the groom who held an arm around her. Domingo's face sharp around the edges with high cheek bones. His dark, coiled hair was jelled to one side. His bride, Vivian was petite and fair-skinned with thick dark hair that was styled neatly and tucked behind her ears. Her lips were poised in a gentle smile. His mother and father, Vivian and Domingo Figueira looked happy as newlyweds. Three years later they were both gone - Vivian during childbirth and Domingo by suicide. What the hell happened in those three years?

More shocking, was the copy of the news article from the days right after Vivian died. Young Woman Dies Giving Birth to Twins. Everything was documented, the preexisting health complications that were discovered, a nurse's description of the despair she felt at the loss of such a "beautiful new mother", and the condolences to the widowed father of twin boys. A separate news article contained Domingo's obituary. The contents of the manila folder made it clear his life was doomed from the start.

What the folder didn't explain was, why now? Why was Damon looking for him now when he was almost halfway through his life?

"What the hell, man." He groaned aloud. He dropped his head on the desk and lay there until sleep kicked in.

Traffic outside had long quieted down when he heard the door swing open. The lights that were so violently flicked on shone through his eyelids, causing him to wake.

"Take this." Eva was standing over him with a coffee mug in her hand. Her eyes were strained and a faint red. She plopped a black shirt into his lap. He unfolded it and saw a graphic of a vintage map of the city on it. He pulled the tag and checked the size.

"Large. The, perfect size. Good guess." He mumbled. "Thanks."

"It wasn't a guess. Damon is a large. You're a bit thinner than him but not by much." Daniel grimaced at the mention of his brother.

"Do we look alike?"

"Unfortunately." She gathered the documents on the desk and slipped them back into the folder. "Let's get going before I collapse."

"Where to?"

"He'll be late getting back and asked me to take you to his place. If you have any complaints you can sleep on the sidewalk and get picked up by police - your choice." Eva was already headed for the stairs and with the present circumstances, he didn't have much of a choice at all.

Eva's car was just another messy desk but with wheels. There were books all over the place, random note pads, sticky notes on the glove compartment, and every drink holder had a mug of coffee in it.

He wrestled with putting his seatbelt on because there was sticky gunk on the clasp. "I thought lawyers were supposed to have their shit toge-

"Shut up." And that was that. Eva grumbled under her breath the whole drive and swung around curves like a stripper swung around a pole.

"Keep it steady would you? You have health insurance, I don't." She didn't bother responding to him and didn't say a word until she slammed on breaks in front of a townhouse.

"Get out."

"And do what? I don't have a key. I don't even know this guy." Eva groaned and tore off her seatbelt. She paused for a moment and then put the car in reverse only to slide into the parking spot in front of the townhouse.

"This is not what I went to law school for." She was grumbling. The car's lights faded off, leaving them in darkness. This neighborhood had no streetlights or if it did, they weren't in front of any of the townhouses. Daniel followed her out of the car and up the steps to the front door. Why the door needed a glass door and a normal door behind that was beyond him. It didn't do shit for security purposes. He held the glass door open for her as she fished around in her black purse and it seemed like forever until she found the key.

Once inside, Eva hit the light switch and a warm glow shone on wooden floors. Fancy. He took off his shoes when he saw Eva doing the same and left them by the door. To the right of the entrance were carpeted stairs that went up. To the left was a living room.

"You guys live together?"

"No, come this way. You'll take the guest bedroom." As they passed through, he noted the brown furniture and a solid, natural wood coffee table. The kitchen that they passed was clean and compact. This place looked staged. Almost untouched. Eva stopped and opened a door on the right. "This is you."

A queen bed was in the center of the room with a heavy comforter set and four pillows. There were two dressers built from the same wood as the coffee table with a mirror between them. On top of one of the dressers was a lamp with an exposed light bulb.

"Bathroom is through here." Eva opened a door that was next to what had to be the closet and turned the lights on so that Daniel could see through the glass shower doors to the white and blue patterned tile backsplash. "He keeps everything stocked so I don't think you'll need to buy toiletries." She left him to himself soon after.

He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly the bed molded around him. Memory foam. The comforter and pillows were a simple dark grey with blue floral sheets underneath. He got up and explored the dressers, all of them were empty except the top drawers that contained toiletries like shower gels, body lotions, razors, toothbrushes and the like.

The closet wasn't empty. Casual men's clothing hung from hangers and there was a box of socks. Damon probably used it as extra storage space. When he was done surveying the room, he showered and slipped into a pair of clean boxers he'd found in the sock box. He'd kept on the shirt Eva gave him. If he were back home, he wouldn't bother with either but this wasn't his house. The thought of Youssef fighting for shower space in a jail quickly snuffed any excitement he was feeling over the room. Life back home wasn't like life in Alexandria but he and Youssef had made it work. Now that life was gone and Youssef may as well be dead. No one was going to hear from him from a long time, if ever again.

He found Eva in the kitchen and by the looks of her she'd also showered. Her petite figure was wrapped in a thin brown bath robe. It was tied at her waist but that didn't stop it from and revealing the curves of her breasts and the black straps of her bra. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that she was looking back at him, rather amusedly. She could be sexy if she pulled the stick out of her ass.

"Do you drink?" She reached into the cabinet above her head and pulled down a dark-tinted bottle of wine. Sangria, the label read.

"I do." He'd never had Sangria. He wouldn't tell her that though. She grabbed two stemless glasses and poured into them both then slid one his way.

It's sweet, fruity aroma filled his face and when he took a sip, he was surprised by how sweet it actually was. This was fruit punch with a twist.

"I read your file." She rested her back against the counter and tucked one arm into the other as she sipped. "Tough life for your parents."

Was she trying to play counselor now? She should stick with law. "Don't really want to talk about that."

"Understood. Look, Damon? He's stubborn but he means well. Do I think he went about trying to find you the right way? Of course not. But I know he means well."

"Why is he looking for me in the first place? I'm already thirty-two. Why not just leave me alone?"

Eva shrugged. "He's thirty-two. Most men this age are starting families or already have them. He doesn't."

"Couldn't he have just found a wife and had a kid with her then call it a day?"

Eva put the bottle back in the cabinet and set her glass in the sink. "He tried." She said quietly, then she left the kitchen and he heard her sit in the living room. He left her alone because he could tell he hit a sensitive subject and unlike her, he knew how to respect people's privacy.

"You can sleep upstairs. It's not an issue! Don't make this an issue!" A man's voice boomed, jolting him awake. His eyes shot around the room looking for the source, then his other senses kicked in and he realized it was coming from the front of the house.

"It's an issue for me and I said I'll take the couch!"

The closer he crept towards the living room to steal a peak at the man calling himself his brother the more he wanted to turn back. He stuck close to the walls of the hallway until there wasn't any wall left and he was standing at the edge of the living room.

It was surreal, seeing a man with his face holding Eva by the arms. "You're being ridiculous, just sleep in the bed."

"Ridiculous?!" Eva tore out of his grasp and jabbed a finger into his chest. She was so short compared to him. Her head barely reached his chest. "You just unearthed a complete stranger!"

Maybe it was the wine that had gotten to him. He stepped forward into the living room. "She's right. I am a complete stranger and you did just rip me up from Fredericksburg."

It all happened in slow motion for him, the way Eva stepped to the side and the way Damon blinked with a blank gaze as he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."

When their hands clasped, Daniel tightened his grip. "Is it?" He sent his fist into the end of the man's tie. The black leather bag Damon had been carrying over his shoulder hit the floor with a thud and he stumbled backwards over it. Eva caught him before he fell into the coffee table.

"That's for getting Youssef arrested and caught up in this mess." Daniel crossed his arms at his chest and observed Damon as he straightened himself out. He could be ready to pass another lick at a moment's notice if Damon had it in him to fight back. But he seemed unfazed by the blow.

Turning to Eva, while still keeping a watchful eye on Daniel, Damon asked "Who's Youssef?"

"What do you mean? You've been stalking me for how long now and you don't know about Youssef?" Damon took a step back and Daniel realized he'd nearly put himself chest to chest with the man. The only thing between them was Eva and she had a hand on both of their chests. His twin smelled strongly of cologne and the work shirt he wore was wrinkled at the shoulders. Daniel wanted to take his stupid tie and wring it around the city boy's neck. Damon mimicked his posturing and crossed his arms, cocking his head.

"What's he talking about?"

Eva took a deep breath and then dropped her hands. "JC. He had Daniel's roommate arrested for dealing in stolen prescribed medications." She made the move to pick up the bag that had dropped but Daniel grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her away from it.

"Who's JC?"

Damon grabbed Eva around the shoulders and pulled her back, tucking her behind him. Then, in a way that had him asking to be kicked in the head, he turned his back to Daniel and gritted through his teeth. "He was never supposed to make contact. I strictly told you both, no contact."

"He doesn't listen. I told you not to go with him!"

Daniel put two and two together. It was foolish for him to have believed that Jorge had given him his real name. "He made contact all right. Paid for it too."

"What do you mean by that?" They both asked.

"You know," He gave a spiteful smile. "It's been a long day for me. I can't go back to my apartment, the man I've spent half my life was just arrested, and the man I was fucking is a liar." Daniel spun on his heel and headed for the bedroom. "So, I'll see you both in the morning." He half expected Damon to grab after him with the mix of fury and disbelief that was on his face but the man didn't make a sound.

Eva on the other hand... "You slept with him?!"

Inside the bedroom, he threw off the shirt Eva had given him and flopped backwards on the bed. No way was he falling asleep again in this place. He stayed awake as long as he could listening closely to the argument between Eva and Damon that followed. He picked up bits and pieces confirming that Jorge's real name was John Carlos and that Damon hadn't authorized anything Jorge did during the investigation into his personal life. He also learned that Eva hated sharing a bed with Damon because Damon snored and she swore to herself she'd never share another bed with him again. He could see why they didn't work out as a couple. He'd only known Eva for half a day and he was already sick of her voice.

[cesium-sheep]

alright we’re powering through the rest of this book. my patience ran out for it several days ago, so I won’t be making the effort to be deferential and polite anymore. if this is a book that is personally meaningful for you or you just don’t like seeing me speak dismissively of others’ work, please do feel free to skip. (although to be fair, it’s my own personal blog. I’m not actually obligated to be nice to this book or this author when it’s repeatedly danced close to (and possibly into) triggering me with no warning from it or from others.)

the rest of chapter 12 is about the author catastrophizing and finding a codified version of the practice many of us have developed of testing out the opposite phrase instead of allowing confirmation bias to reinforce the catastrophized view. and once again, there’s no room or accounting for when the emotions conjured by negative thoughts are protective/helpful eg “my doctor shouldn’t fucking treat me that way so I will warn others and find a new doctor”.

chapter 13 is about mindfulness which I can safely skip, I’ve repeatedly had my aversion to traditional mindfulness questioned with no success. I already know it’s not for me. maybe just knowing that should have been enough for me to know this book wasn’t for me, but I wanted to try it anyway. (traditional mindfulness techniques are not one-size-fits-all, and are often pushed upon people with chronic dissociation of any sort to the point of causing further harm rather than healing. see the campfire metaphor in one of my other posts under this tag.)

chapter 14 is presented as “minimize harm” but actually focuses on learning and respecting your own limits (with very little practical advice for the learning part which is the part I struggle with) and then diverts into different options for doing this that all still amount to “you can’t do everything you used to, but you’ll feel miserable if you do nothing”, a balance I’m very unlikely to get any help from via this person who slid very quickly into sickness and had an actual career beforehand. (eg I already know that doing nothing and that being forced not to multitask don’t work for me. pacing is something we’re all very familiar with but is super tricky with my neurotype.) it does have a section specifically targeted at caregivers which is good to include but again. irrelevant for me.

15 is about specifically zen buddhism and is mostly a collection of poems and koans the author personally likes.

16 starts in on communication and social aspects of illness, and contains the phrase “it’s hard to always be true kind and helpful in our speech” which mm sure jan. idk if that’s the damage or the autism speaking but I’m p sure that’s what I default to even though it has a substantial energy cost at times. I respect that it’s not everyone’s default and acknowledge it does still take effort, but idk bro “be nice” is not a radical concept. it also actively discourages discussing your illness with others which, hm. you probably ought to find some friends you can discuss that with, dear author, even if your preexisting friends are not in a mental/emotional position to take on that role themselves. having someone to which you can complain whenever and be met with support is incredibly valuable, and while you shouldn’t just dump details of your illness on others who aren’t ready or have actively expressed unwillingness, you should still like. have space to deal with it outside of yourself. this chapter is literally just about letting other people have boundaries and not being a dick. didn’t need it.

17 is about facing solitude with grace or whatever the fuck, as an autistic introvert I don’t need it. I only miss people when there are specific individuals to miss, and even then it’s pretty limited. we’re gonna 2x speed this chapter. it also talks a lot about maintaining relationships but kinda externalizes that. one page can be easily paraphrased as “my friend doesn’t throw a shitfit when I have to cancel.” touches on educating others about your illness presumably to minimize shitfits. the author does finally acknowledge chronic illness communities online and says they can’t personally participate in them. I respect that they know their limitations but I do feel it would be of benefit to others to bring it up earlier. they wrote this book for others after all. sidenote, “when I compose an email to her, I always look at the last one she sent, so I’m sure to respond to what she wrote” is uh. wild. that’s wild. that’s a wild statement to have to make. that’s. the basics of reciprocal communication dawg. we skipped the section about solitude.

18 is a summary chapter. following that is a quickref form of the practices in the rest of the book which obviously won’t have anything for me if the entire rest of the book had nothing for me.

all in all, it seems to be a conglomeration of buddhism-specific stuff with a lot of really basic mental health stuff that like, the rest of us had to learn from ourselves or each other relatively early in life so we didn’t kill ourselves, y’know? for someone who’s never been exposed to true hardship before I can see how it would be useful, but for anyone who’s had to learn any coping mechanisms before it’s going to feel a little repetitive at best I think. it’s disappointing to think that becoming ill is the first or only hardship all of those bloggers have met, somehow. not because I want others to suffer, but because it makes their perspective less valuable to me.

idk. I’m done with it. I don’t personally care for the buddhist framework, I can now say that with absolute certainty, and none of the practicalities are practical for me (either I already figured them out in a way that’s better for me or I already know they are actively bad for me). I’m disappointed and irritated and it will be leaving my possession asap.

I’m glad others got relief or support from it, but I’m frustrated that it’s presented as this great revolutionary book that’s perfect for everyone, both on the part of the author and on the part of those reviewing and praising it. this was a waste of my time. please remember that it’s NOT actually for everybody.