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rcris123 · 5 years

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Isaac was up before any of them. And maybe to his own surprise Arthur slept throughout the night with Sebastian’s hand into his own. More or less at least. The medallion was on the ground. A light squeeze of the palm he’s holding. Eyes dart up – Sebastian’s still asleep, leaned against the foot of his table. Poor bastard; came all this way and for so little as himself...

Thoughts were all over; his forehead burned up like a furnace – but he knew that. Everything else, one big goddamn mess in his head.

Colm wanted to sell ‘em to the Pinkertons, using him as bait. It’s the one thing he told Dutch when he came back...

And Isaac. All that time he couldn’t forgive himself for leaving Isaac alone like he did. And the boy clearly ran off to Sebastian wondering where the hell his Pa’s gone. And nothing tore his chest apart more than knowin’ they barely survived another one of these...

This one was worse... He hoped, prayed the shoulder ain’t gonna come down with gangrene, ‘cause at this point it’s already feelin’ numb, itching up and down like an ant’s nest. He still felt Sebastian’s hand in his own.

He should try getting-

“Augh- Shit!” Well that woke him up. “I’m sorry...”

He can’t move. Just getting his head off the pillow made it feel like it was made of lead and like the brains fell out of the back of his skull. A light tug of the arm from Sebastian; teeth grit, air’s sucked in with a wheeze.

“Shouldn’t of done that-” Sebastian’s voice is thickened by sleep.

“Ah, you couldn’t of known.” And he still hasn’t let go. A pang inside his guts. The gang met him, that much was obvious, he wondered what Isaac told them about him. But words don’t come help him.

“How are you feeling?”

“About as well as I look, I guess...” Arthur sighed. “What ‘bout you?”

“I ain’t feelin’ half my body.” Sebastian cracked a laugh, and he tried one for himself, but the groan bubbled inside his chest regardless.

A short silence, allowing the pain to settle: “So... They let you stay?”

“Don’t know.”

“What did Isaac say-”

“I escorted him back to camp the day he couldn’t find you. John and the Irishman brought me in thinking I’ve done something to the kid.” A deep breath in from Sebastian, as if drawing courage: “He said we was lovers. So they won’t shoot me then and there I guess.”

Lips purse, another pang inside his guts and a shiver flowing up: “Guess that’s that then...”

But they ain’t lovers. Far from it. They-... What the hell was they that they ended up like this.

Do he have to play enamored now? He ain’t no actor and he rather despised pretending.

“You don’t have to-”

“I ain’t intending to.” Arthur had to be blunt, and it might of come off as rude, but he just ain’t knowin’ what he’s feelin’. It ain’t uncomfortable, just rather odd, ‘cause he still held onto the man’s hand like his life somehow depended on it. Heart picked at a gallop; he just had to say this: “Well, to be perfectly honest with you, I can’t make heads or tails of it all.”

“I ain’t much smarter on the subject, Arthur...”

“Guess we gotta figure something out-”

“We?”

He ain’t noticed how he used them words until it came outta his mouth.

“Guess there’s a we now... At least if you intend on stayin’.” Do you?

“Ain’t decided yet...”

Somehow the decision seemed to of been made the moment they put their hands together the night before ‘cause they ain’t let go yet.

Miss Grimshaw checked up on Arthur not much later, and by extension that meant Sebastian too – who got a scolding only Susan could pull off. She would of kicked him onto his feet. That’s when she notices, both of them did: Sebastian screamed in pain, trying to get up, grabbed his shoulder. Miss Grimshaw seized him and yanked the shirt off. Bandages, a fresh wound.

“Where’d you get this Mister-”

“Castellanos...”

“We gotta find you a bed. Quick. Arthur how’d you let him sleep like that-”

Arthur didn’t know, just looked on with concern as he was dragged off; and Sebastian looked back at him. Isaac just returned then from where-ever he’d been gone before.

“Pa?...”

“Someone’s hurt him...” Again.

They found him a spot somewhere by Kieran, not too far off his tent. That kid’s been nothing but kind, to them all and Sebastian too; both outsiders. It’s been fun for a while, makin’ fun of the ‘O’Driscoll’ but that clearly ain’t the case no more. Boy’s been delegated to goddamn nursemaid. Arthur insisted on apologizing. Then Sean came and chewed Sebastian’s entire ear off. Sat on a chair, accused him first, then started talking of his Da and other things of his homeland. Bedridden both o’em they got no place else where to be, so it was Irish history hours for the both of ‘em. Ain’t been so bad after a while: slept like a baby to that, or maybe it was just the fever that made him so goddamn drained. One thing’s for certain he’ll be hearing Irish slang in his dreams from now on.

All week Ms. Grimshaw and Mr. Pearson swung by often; both trying their best to keep Sebastian down. He knew the feelin’ all too well. But they got fed well, bandages cleaned.

Still Arthur’s fever ain’t subsided well. Bouts of sudden dizziness and heat. No matter how much he tried to get back to functioning like a human it ain’t seem to be possible.

It took two more days until he could sit up for more than half an hour.

At least Sebastian’s doin’ better than him. Dutch got rather sick o’ him one time thou, squawked about a wounded dog in his camp; so Kieran took him fishing for most that day. Pearson was ecstatic to have so much fish. He made a fish broth, and it’s been something he ain’t known he needed or longed for.

Both Isaac and Sebastian stood on his bed, slurping hot soup like they ain’t ever had it before. And that somehow stuck with him. He pushed himself to draw that, even if it wasn’t one of his brightest ideas, a monster of’a headache split his head by the end. He ain’t known what to write beneath it thou. Not yet.

Days pass still and the camp’s getting all the friendlier to Sebastian, what Isaac said about them felt almost like a memory and the man like he’s always been there. He was a father. He could tell, by the way he’s taken to the youngest in the camp, and especially the girls; he snuck in to help Tilly and Marry-Beth with the chores Grimshaw gave ‘em. Arthur was sure they ain’t ever got cleaner clothes. Sebastian even taught Isaac how to properly scrub a shirt.

He got pangs inside his stomach whenever he thought about that. About, well, Sebastian, and what a whole ‘nother breed of man he was. How’d they even end up in the same place. How’d Sebastian end up in a whore house! That man laying down for others... And he ain’t sure how all that’d be working; lay on one’s back, spread his legs and hang his mouth open. Did his cock get hard-

Jesus.

It ain’t like that...

No. There ain’t no denying it.

One day, Sebastian came to him. His shoulder was doing only better; at last he could move it with at least somewhat more accuracy. He was thinking of going hunting again, but Sebastian came to him.

“I saw you writing a lot.” He did. Kept him busy all these long dreary days where he was in-between ill and well. “I thought you’d have more use for this than I do.” Sebastian hands Arthur a pen.

A real fancy one: polished copper, and it ain’t no fountain pen, it had all the ink inside, and on the side two arrows. Jaw clenches. It was the first time since they held hands all those weeks ago that Arthur got that physical or affectionate: he pulled Sebastian into a hug. Man huffed against him.

How thy hell was he supposed to thank for that. He ain’t got no words. Nothing, nothing at all than a heart that drummed. He ain’t deserved any of the kindnesses Sebastian did to him.

Arthur ain’t deserving nothing...

“Thank you.” It was low, a rumble, spoken right next to the man’s ear. “Thank you.”

That day, Arthur tied that medallion ‘round his neck, the Saint Sebastian one. It had to be a lucky talisman. And he finally knew what to write in his journal next to that drawing of him and Isaac eating fish broth; with the new pen to boot. That day he went up to Dutch:

“How are you feeling?” man asked, smoking his afternoon cigarette like it was a ritual; the gramophone blaring its high pitched song.

“Much better.” Arthur replied; inhaled to gather courage: "Guess I need some days away after beein' cooped up in 'ere for weeks. Just me and the kid."

Dutch looked at him before puffing out the smoke, voice was inquiring: "And Sebastian?"

"And Sebastian."

Dutch threw the cigarette away, stomped the butt with his heel and moved closer to him:

"You know it smells of rotten business to me"

"Dutch!” Arthur got insulted plenty times but being called a fool for trusting a man he knew he could trust really offended him. Arthur can fend for himself and Sebastian ain’t no danger to the camp, just like goddamn Kieran. But that ain’t what Dutch meant. Lips purse, Arthur draws away; the remark is cold: “You know that all that matters to me is loyalty. ..And Isaac. Isaac's been all uppity these past few weeks. He needs some time with his Pa."

“Ye’r coddling him Arthur.”

“That ain’t ye’r call to make.” Don’t talk to him about parenting, Dutch. They were both outlaws and that ain’t a gentle life and not one fit for a kid that ain’t asked for none of this, least of all his Momma getting murdered like she did. “The kid ain’t an outlaw and I ain’t makin’ one o’ him. I want him to have better than I had. We all do.”

Dutch fell silent for a moment, then next he spoke his accusatory tone was gone:

“I hope you know you’re like a son to me, Arthur.”

“I know...”

They still left that day.

“Where we headed, Pa?” They barely left camp, but the boy was smart enough not be heard.

“Sebastian?” Arthur ain’t really got much ahead of him, while he reckoned the man had something to return to.

And in all these weeks he still ain’t learned what exactly happened that Sebastian got his shoulder stabbed; he only said the obvious: someone was displeased and took corrective action. Arthur could only wonder if he was from the Molly-house, or maybe a client, to say it delicately.

“Well... I should be heading back to Saint Denis.”

“Then we’re comin’ with you.”

“No-” A purse of lips, a deep inhale. “No matter what I say you’ll still come with me, won’t you?”

“Guess that much is obvious. Lead the way, pardner!”

“How the hell did I get stuck with you?”

“We have a bad habit of getting nosey.” Isaac said in Arthur’s stead. This kid...

“You’re a menace and a half, boy. Hope you’re well aware of that.” Arthur intervened; yeah there was still a smile on his lips.

“Yes, sir.”

Laughter from all three of them.

“You raised quite the son there, Arthur.” Sebastian spoke. “Knows how to talk back, but for Christ’s sake can’t wash a shirt.”

“It ain’t like that!” Arthur chucked and the offense in Isaac’s tone could be felt, not just heard. “Pa!”

“Settle down, Isaac. He means you no harm.” Father talked to son; Isaac scowled but the road went on regardless.

It took a while before more serious topics arose:

“Where are you intending to stay? In Saint Denis I mean.” Sebastian asked.

“Can’t we stay with you?” Isaac replied with another question.

“Don’t think it’s a great idea to be staying in a Molly-house of all places.” Arthur tried, but he knew where that sentiment came from. Kid got used to Sebastian.

“It’d be for the best...” Obviously Sebastian ain’t enthusiastic either. “But there’s plenty hotels around the city. The Grand Hotel has plenty rooms, you should check there.”

“And now that leads to the question of money. We ain’t the richest people...”

“One dollar per night.”

Shouldn’t be too bad, but-

“How long are we gonna stay?” Isaac took the thoughts from his head.

“Dunno. I...” He looked at the boy. “I gotta think of some things over.”

More exactly: how to honor Isaac’s wishes without leaving any of the gang behind. John’s got a family of his own, wife and child. The girls, they can’t keep living like this. There’s a few men he reckons would fit better someplace else; the young ones: Sean, Lenny, Charles, even that Kieran kid, get the boy to work at a stable or something. But it ain’t easy talking to stubborn idealistic men: Sean might sooner die than give up robbing rich folk. Well he ain’t wrong, but their goal’s always been getting the money then getting out.

Seems there ain’t enough money in the world for people like them. They almost had all they needed in Blackwater, but that’s done and over-

Or was it. They ain’t knowin’ Sebastian, if only he and maybe that Kieran kid went back to collect, they might just get their hands on those money. It could give Sebastian a life. Whatever he got hurt over ain’t worth it and he reckons the man should pack his things and go.

But he can’t without the money, and Arthur ain’t sure he wanna pop that question to him.

A sigh.

“Everything a’right?” Sebastian sounded caring, and truth be told Arthur’s been silent for a while now.

“Nothing worth ruining a good mood over.”

“We in a good mood?” Sebastian cracks a laugh.

“Would you wanna be?”

“If I wouldn’t know you any better, I’d be sayin’ you’re flirting with me, Arthur.” Was that a dare, Sebastian...

But the kid had to speak up: “Everyone in camp think that anyway...”

“In no small part thanks to you.” Sebastian says.

“My own son snitching on me...”

“But the two of you are getting along.” Isaac continued with his statement. “You held hands- ”

“Isaac... It ain’t like that-”

“I just wanna know, Pa.” Isaac bowed his head then picked it up again: “You ain’t got sweet on anyone since I can remember. And it ain’t like you gotta be Dutch, bringin’ in girls once every few years, but... Well, Sean and Lenny all got sweet on the girls in camp, and it made ‘em happy! Thought someone might make you happy too, ‘cause Momma’s-”

“Isaac... You sweet kid. I’m well enough happy just to’ave got you.” He’d smooch the boy’s forehead if he wouldn’t be galloping.

He saw that, Sebastian, he saw that smile. And he ain’t quite sure what to make of this feeling; the heart’s heavy thinking that somehow he led the kid to think that it’s his job or someone else’s to keep this poor fool happy, at the same time’s filled with warmth ‘cause Isaac was, despite Arthur’s worst, shaping up to be a real good man. The boy has a chance at a real family, if only Arthur could gift him the freedom of a steady life.

There ain’t nothing easy...

Silence falls again and Saint Denis opens at their feet. They left Sebastian at his place, while they went on towards the Grand Hotel. They lodged in.

He was thinking of ways to earnestly earn money and maybe get Isaac involved as well to try and give him the chance of a honest livin-

“Mary?...” His mouth hangs open and he holds Isaac back, pressing the boy against his body.

“Arthur...” She was just as surprised to see him as he was to see her. “I... I would have wrote you a letter...” She looks down at Isaac, whose head whipped back looking for an explanation from his father. “That’s your son.”

“Isaac. Yes. He was real young when we- uhm...” The explanation was for the boy.

“How old is he?”

“17 this upcoming October...”

“I didn’t know- I. Arthur, I didn’t think you- You raised the boy an outlaw too.”

“No!” Don’t go accusing him, Mary... “He ain’t ever robbed someone- He’s always helped people, Mary. He’s most considerate.”

“Oh, Arthur, but if you couldn’t get out of your ways how’d you ever expect him to do so? You’re so tied up in your, your ideology-”

Isaac snapped: “We will get out.” Arthur kept him down. “We just gotta take care of a few people.” His son’s sounding more and more adult by the moment.

Mary looked at Isaac most shocked, a hint offended, then back at Arthur: “I’m sorry, Arthur... I see it now, no matter how much I still think of you, it would never have worked between us.” Arthur pins Isaac down when the boy tried to speak up again, shooting a glance back at his father with irritation. “You’ve been lying to yourself and your brought up your son to think the same! You think this ends somewhere? If it does, then change something, Arthur-”

“Don’t you speak to my Pa’ like that.” Isaac growled.

“Isaac.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur... I... I have to go now.”

Mary passes by them and trots downstairs. Arthur inhales deeply.

“C’mon. To our room.” A gentle nudge, and of course the boy picks up on the shift in his voice, the way the tone lowered and got drained of it’s usual sarcasm.

“Pa’, you can’t let people, that know nothing of us, speak to you like she did. It’s unfair.”

“People ain’t always fair, Isaac.”

“But you cared for her. She should have been.”

“Ain’t you getting your lil’ head wrapped up in some drama it ain’t supposed to be in?”

“You loved her, Pa, didn’t you...”

“Long time ago. Yes. You were real young.” Arthur sighs, opens the door to their room and steps inside after Isaac. “She couldn’t compromise and I couldn’t neither; ‘cause I was an outlaw.”

“But you tried.” Isaac sat on the edge of the bed. “I know you did.”

Arthur sits beside him: “That ain’t meaning I did my best...”

“I ain’t no outlaw.”

Arthur drags the boy onto his lap and presses a kiss on his back: “No, you ain’t.” A hand goes to comb that always messy hair of his: “You got gentleman material about you. You’ll be a great man, a great husband. Don’t let me stop you.”

Isaac shifts in his father’s embrace to wrap his arms around him.

“We gonna get out. And it ain’t only gonna be me.”

That’s a big dream, son...

Night fell. He couldn’t sleep, but Isaac found it soon enough, sprawled on the expensive bed. Instead Arthur found himself on the narrow balcony smoking a cigar; cause just a lil’ bit of tobacco won’t do right now.

Mary just had to come in and make it all the more complicated – well, more like heartbreaking. At one point he dreamed, he really dreamed that he could be a husband to her, and her a mother to his son. But there was no way that was ever goin’ to happen, just ‘cause he is who he is. And how can he blame her and say he ain’t at fault that he’s an outlaw that can’t leave the life.

He should of left now, with Isaac for his sake. And he really wanted to. But it ain’t that easy. Arthur ain’t alone out there; John, Abigail, Jack, they’re going through the same struggles as him. They need a way out too. And if Arthur just left the guilt’ll follow him to his grave. Him and John grew up almost like brothers, annoying and dumb as he was Arthur cared ‘bout him, but mostly about his family, ‘cause the moron became a father almost entirely by accident.

And it wasn’t like Arthur became a father by design.

He can barely remember Eliza’s face. He saw her few times...

The cigar was reaching its end...

He left the balcony after the butt was thrown away. A hand goes in the satchel to grab a bottle of whatever liquor he had in there. And it all went down his throat in one go. Then Arthur went out the door, downstairs and out into the street.

He thought back to Sebastian-

He found a few more bottles of alcohol on himself. He stumbled half drunk into the brothel:

“Hi there mister-” language is slurred. “Hav’you seen Sebas-”

“Arthur?” he climbed downstairs, barely in a shirt and suspenders.

“Sebastian!” a big smile, a stumbled forward.

They more or less landed in each other’s arms. The lil’ saloon was quite busy tonight-

“You drunk, friend?”

“Just a lil’ tipsy.” And kind of missing a friend, hey- did Sebastian just call him friend...

“How’s Isaac?”

“Asleep- Can I talk to you ‘bout something-”

“Anytime.”

A hand lands heavy on Sebastian’s chest and stays there, fingers finding their way underneath the suspenders; head bows:

“I met Mary today.” He doesn’t know who Mary is, Arthur. “Mary’s- You see, I loved her a long time ago. I missed her so long.” Sebastian’s body stiffens. “I met Mary today an’ I made a fool o’myself... Said I wouldn’t- couldn’t change. And Isaac’s... Isaac’s told her off-”

“Sebastian, take him upstairs!” the bartender shouted.

“It ain’t like that!” Arthur shouts back at the man, returns his head to Sebastian soon after- “I ain’t wanting sex-”

He guesses he just wants a companion.

“Come outside with me.” Sebastian drags him outside, more or less pulling him on the hand; Arthur follows.

“Sebastian- I ain’t got ‘nough words to, just, thank you- Oh, I’m afraid you caught a fool...”

“At least you ain’t a moron.”

Arthur laughs: “Guess I got that...”

“I was thinking you got more than that...”

He’s not sure what he was alluding to: “You?”

“What?”

Voice gets low and raspy: “Do I got you?...”

It ain’t that cold out, but there’s goosebumps raised on Sebastian’s arms. The man looks down; a pause:

“You’re wearing it-”

“You saved me countless times, I-”

“I didn’t bring you back when Isaac needed it.”

“But that ain’t the point! You saved me.”

“You have any idea what place you pulled me from.” Sebastian grabs the collar of his shirt and brings him closer. “Those three weeks in the camp were the most pleasant since-”

“Don’t think ‘bout that-”

Sebastian’s head drops again, fists pull Arthur closer and he just leans in. “I ain’t no Saint.”

“Like that’s what we’re meant bein’. I’m an outlaw for Chrissakes...”

A bitter laugh bubbles out of Sebastian: “Maybe I should be one...”

“And I who though we were tryinna become more upstanding citizens.”

“We... We.” His fists clench in Arthur’s shirt. “You still ain’t told me what you’re wanting to talk about.”

“Do I gotta ask again, goddamnit-” He’s feeling light on his feet. “What’s it with you? Do I. Got you.” He leans into Sebastian.

Silence. Bent over each other on the side of the road, Sebastian’s fists into his shirt, Arthur’s arms at ease beside his body, breath stinking of all sorts of cheap alcohol they just sit like that, like some broken down statue that you can’t tell what’s was ever meant to represent.

It’s a strange feeling bubbling in his gut, sweet and sour, tastes and burns like bourbon on his tongue; the more he sits like this the warmer his insides become, his palm, his temples, and heart starts beating like a drum, heavy. He remembers Mary for some reason... An electric shiver runs through his body, from the chest down, into his guts.

Arms lift at last, place themselves on Sebastian’s waist. Head dips up and closer in. He only catches the sound of a breath cut short when his lips press onto the other’s neck, just above the collarbone.

Retreat came quick.

Sebastian tilts his head away from where Arthur kissed, as if ashamed, as if allowing him for more.

Silence once again until Arthur couldn’t handle him looking at him like that, hair swept to the side of his face, eyes half lidded and expecting.

“That’s what I am to you?” Arthur speaks up at last.

“If you want that...” Sebastian’s lips tremble.

“Dunno what I want.”

“You seemed pretty convincing to me-”

The second one is ravenous, mouth presses wide and wet onto Sebastian’s neck, lips draw skin beneath them, then teeth. He moaned.

Arthur pulls away, startled, until bodies are no longer together. Breath is quick and shallow. He looks away. So does Sebastian, but his gaze quickly returns:

“Anything you want to take upstairs?”

The word that bubbles in his mouth is different that what his mind’s thinking, but lips purse and he’s got the notion that he has to weigh the heaviest feeling: that part of him wants this. Sebastian cares...

His name dangles from his neck, and his pen in his pocket.

“Yes.”

#rdr2 tag #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #sebastian castellanos #isaac morgan #sebthur #mary linton #WE L L THINGS HAPPEN THIS CHAPTER

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shananaomi · 6 years

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2017.

Giving myself an hour on the clock to get through this, if at all possible. (ETA: Done!)

Here’s 2016.

What did you do in 2017 that you'd never done before?

I have such a great answer to this that I’m still not ready to write about. Ask me in person and I might tell you. Also: went to yoga fairly regularly and found I both could and wanted to lay peacefully in one pose or another for 5 or 10 minutes at a time.

Did you keep your New Years' resolutions and will you make more for next year?

We did in fact #GetFitToFightFascism, or anyway on days when I didn’t know how else to treat the creeping anxiety I got up and hiked to the Observatory or somewhere else so ridiculously stunning that I felt slightly reassured we’d live another day. We were determined to see our BFF Jamie every Saturday night and except for weekends when one of us or the other was out of town or we had plans already for the weekend we had a near-perfect attendance record. And though I didn’t think I wrote that much, I got enough out in TinyLetter (now backposted at Medium) to add up to a decent Twitter thread last week.

I always feel like next year should maybe be its own post, but for now I’m thinking about: Writing, always. Reading more. And finding a way to host maybe monthly dinners for small groups of our friends at home.

Did anyone close to you give birth?

My childhood best friend’s daughter was born on New Year’s Day 2017 and we finally got to meet her last week. She is able to reach for and drink from a glass of beer so I think she’ll be just fine.

What countries did you visit?

This was a year between big adventures out of the country, but we just booked a February getaway to Puerto Vallarta to celebrate the 10th anniversary of our first date. Went back and forth to New York a few times, plus a quickie up to SF for work.

What would you like to have in 2018 that you lacked in 2017?

Confidence the pendulum will in fact swing back from fascism.

What date from 2017 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

I guess the run from January 19 (Hamilton) to January 20 (bus trip from NYC to DC, with the worst possible welcome from post-Inaugural attendees) to January 21 (meeting up with so many old friends at the Women’s March). The rest is still vividly sharp but not so much tied to any specific date.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Surviving it with some semblance of hope. Making the move to a better, bigger place in Pasadena. Leading a loyal and devoted staff through a major corporate transition and many other hard challenges.

What was your biggest failure?

I have never done anything as hard as being a boss lady, and I’m still not sure most days I’ve left things at least better than I found them.

Did you suffer illness or injury?

For the first 9 months or so I got super sick every single goddamned month: a recurring case of America, I called it. Overall I’ve been very lucky.

What was the best thing you bought?

The peace of mind that privilege allows when you need to pay your way out of a loud, anxiety-ridden neighborhood for the quieter (at least most days) and more serene outskirts of town. A weekly outlet and focus for my physical stress in the form of the most amazing personal trainer. A 40th birthday blowout weekend that included renting the most ridiculous house (as seen when CJ fell into the pool in The West Wing), hosting a dinner party and then pool party for so many of our friends and family.

Whose behavior merited celebration?

My wife’s, always. Because all I do these days is listen to Kesha, I’ve been thinking about these lines:

I know forever don’t exist But after this life, I’ll find you in the next So when I say “forever,” it’s the goddamned truth

Where did most of your money go?

The house and moving into it, the car, the trainer, the birthday celebrations.

What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Did I?

We discovered Two Bunch Palms, an old getaway near Palm Springs that soothed my soul in quiet calm ways I hadn’t realized could be so close at hand or that I needed so much. This year’s LA Pride parade became a protest and was the most joyous and community-filled day like that we’ve felt in a long, long time.

What song will always remind you of 2017?

This fairly goes to Kesha’s “Praying,” but since I already wrote a whole thing about that, I’ll say Julia Michaels’ “Don’t Wanna Think,” in part because I listened to it on repeat for so many hours in a row while flying back and forth from New York that it’s kind of embedded in my subconscious: I’m not really one for drinking songs, but — fuck it, here it comes. Heartbreak is annoying, and I’ll feel it in the morning. Swallow it down like a bitter pill. At least it will taste better than this feeling will. I don’t like myself when I’m just standing still.

Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder? Happier, though I’d say that’s grading on a goddamned curve for real.

ii. thinner or fatter? About the same, if trimmer and stronger in some places.

iii. richer or poorer? Close to a draw here, more or less.

What do you wish you'd done more of?

I was happiest when I was hiking, reading, sitting quietly on the couch with my wife and dog. I did a decent amount of all that but it was still to keep my head above water.

What do you wish you'd done less of?

Be on the goddamned internet. But I’m also aware that finding the right balance between awareness and mindfulness and rest and action is the most pervasive and elusive self-care challenge for literally everyone I know, so I’m trying hard not to give myself a hard time about it. And there’s probably something here to say about the betrayal and pain that came from incorrectly trusting people to be their best selves instead of being undeserving of the benefit of the doubt but I am working so fucking hard at leaving that behind in 2017.

How did you spend Christmas?

In Reno with my family and friends, bouncing between two houses full of other people’s people (and mine) and a lot of very rich and exotic meats and liquors. The last couple years have been really hard and not well-balanced or rejuvenating visits, and this year was much better if still not without its own drama.

What was your favorite TV program?

New: Star Trek: Discovery was almost everything I needed in a show this year. Also I loved The Arrangement and found it way smarter and more complicated and fucked up than I’d expected.

New to me: I was only a little late on Riverdale but found it very enjoyable.

Oldies but Goodies: Also I watched a lot of older Star Trek, from TOS to the early movies. Everyone keeps saying next week need to do DS9, so I guess that’s the kind of geek I am proudly now.

What friends did you make or meet this year for the first time?

All but one were not new but I really loved our all-girl get-togethers to watch hockey even when we barely paid attention to it.

What was the best book you read?

I didn’t make a real resolution about reading more but boy did I. It’s just so much better than being in the world or on the internet. The ones that really stand out are Queen of the Night by Alexander Chee (not from this year, but my fave read from it), John Green’s Turtles All the Way Down, and Amy Bloom’s White Houses, which comes out in a couple months. If we’re not already GoodReads friends come find me there—I’m terrible at writing reviews but I find it super helpful personally to know what y’all have read and liked?

What did you want and get?

A new house.

What did you want and not get?

A Japanese wooden soaking tub of my very own. (See below.)

What was your favorite film of this year?

We just saw Call Me By Your Name last night and now I can’t think of anything else. Though I’d say the sheer joy of Wonder Woman is still a solid contender.

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was 40, and I took 5 days to basically do only what I wanted, and it did the exact trick I’d hoped for: I just enjoyed it instead of ruthlessly evaluating what I haven’t done with my life.

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? What political issue stirred you the most? Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

I am going to charitably say the answer to all three of these is both obvious and tiresome. Be better, 2018.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2017?

Lots of jumpsuits and DVF, all courtesy a Rent the Runway Unlimited subscription, which also falls under where all my money went but was a ton of fun and practical in many ways too.

What kept you sane?

Remembering how many amazing women are already in my life and know exactly what I mean even when I can barely say it out loud.

Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Ugh, this one feels too much like work and also like tempting fate.

Who did you miss?

For the first time in a while there were frankly some people who I miss greatly but was glad didn’t have to live through this shit themselves.

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2017.

Just because it could have been worse doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be better.

Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

Here’s what I wrote about 3 songs that shaped my 2017. I don’t think I can do much better in one quote.

What’s one photo that sums up your year?

#2017 #yearly update

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invisiblenotbroken · 7 years

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Ehlers Danlos, Fibromyalgia, POTS, & MCA Collect Them All {Invisible Illness Podcast}

"What you do is not who you are." -- Monica MIchelle

Invisible Illness: Which one do I qualify as sick? Also, a little window into my daily world

Every time I rattle off my disorders I almost have to count them off on my fingers. Did I forget one? Would it even matter when they all fall under the umbrella of ok no you're not crazy, no cure, and wow that's really a thing? I will leave links at the bottom if you would like to know more about the wonderfully creative ways my body attempts to make itself into modern sculpture.

This is my interview. It is candid and though I am writing this before recording I am guessing littered with swear words. If I have to live like this, be inspiring, be funny, and do all of the other things I need to I get to lean on my favorite four letter word. If this is offensive to you please know that being in constant pain every day is offensive to me.

If You Want To Know More About My Disorders

Ehlers Danlos

POTS

Mast Cell Activation

Fibromyalgia

NOT one of my diagnosis but mentioned Chiari Malformation

Thank you so much for listening. Please share with a friend and don't forget to leave a kind if not glowing review on ITunes.

Until next time

Be Kind. Be Gentle. Be a Bad Ass.

My Questionairre

Monica Michelle

I became symptomatic at 8 and have gone through different levels of disability and surgeries from my teens to going on disability in my late 30’s.

1. Who were you before your illness became debilitating?

I think I am lucky. I have been in chronic pain my entire life so I was never completely someone else. I don’t have a memory of being healthy or not in pain. I was a ballerina, a teacher, a jeweler, and a photography studio owner. I am and always will be a storyteller and an artist. I do miss being a photographer. I miss being a part of the community of women in business in the silicon valley. I desperately miss traveling. I miss bike rides. I miss being able to plan. I very much miss hiking and bike riding. I miss walking around Pescadero with my kids. I miss being able to take myself to Drs. Appointments or taking the dogs out. That was the person I used to be before this disorder became impossible to hide.

2. Is there anything you would do if you were not sick?

This is a hard one. I would still be a photographer. I would still be living across the Bay. I don’t know if either of those things would be good for me. If I wasn’t sick I would ride my bike again. I would travel. I would have liked to have become an art teacher for High School. I have binders full of business plans for non-profits I would have loved to have the energy to run.

3. What should other people know about our daily life?

It changes minute to minute. My heart rate can plummet or race. I can be walking normally and in the next step my hip can dislocate and I won’t be able to walk for a long time. I search for words. I am smarter than I can articulate. Moving in healthy world is X Games for me. In my wheelchair I get dumped on the ground thanks to roots, people stopping suddenly in front of me, and poor city planning with ramps that are only for the truly adventuress.

4. What would make living and moving in the world easier for you?

If BART would make sure their elevators worked and were clean (whatever is on the ground will end up on my hands). If you see someone in a wheelchair and you are crossing the street don’t cross right in the middle of the ramp. That is where it is flattest. That’s the part I need. If I am struggling please come by, say hello, offer to help. I know this isn’t an everyone thing but it is a me thing. I have trouble balancing everything with my canes or opening doors with my wheelchair.

5. Life hacks?

My IPadPro is my world. It is my extra brain. With the pencil, I have an unending source of paper to write my ideas down. I use fiverr for technical things I don’t know how to do. I use TaskRabbit for physical things. My sticks are my favorite way to get around. Mine have been discontinued but these look pretty good. Send me a review if you like them.

6. Support from family or friends?

I am beyond privileged and lucky in this department. My mother has helped me with everything. I would like to underline everything. I get worse as the day goes on and she picks up my children from school most days. She takes me to my doctor's appointments. My husband does most housework and cooking. My children have really stepped up helping with chores. I made a shelf on the refrigerator that has microwave meals on it that the kids can get to. I am trying to get better at asking friends to come over.

7. Do you find that people do not believe you are sick because of your appearance?

I am lucky. I use canes and wheelchair when I am doing badly and it is hard to ignore a bone sticking out of my wrist or the shoulder pushed forward so I don’t often have these moments. I have had a woman rush up and glare at me pointing to the handicap sign and back at me while I was waiting for my daughter to bring my canes. She had the good grace to just walk away.

8. How has this affected your relationships?

I lost a lot of friendships when I stopped working. I think I scared people who were my age running businesses in the Silicon Valley. No one expects you to retire at 38. I was fortunate that my husband was my best friend for 3 years before we got married so he had already seen a picture of what for better or worse would be. I had people I had been in relationships leave because I was sick so it was probably the only way I would have ever gotten married again was knowing that he had already seen some of the worst and was still all in.

9. What are you afraid to tell even the people closest to you?

I’m lonely. I’m fucking terrified each time things get bad that this will be the new normal. That I can get so depressed I feel like I'm drowning. I’m scared I am scaring my children. I HATE disappointing people or my animals. It takes almost nothing to push me into guilt or into doing something I really shouldn’t be just because I don’t want to inconvenience them. I will agree with you or change the subject if an argument goes beyond my ability to pay attention or to keep standing or sitting.

10. Does the fact that your disease is invisible change how healthcare professionals treat you?

Yes, I spent most of my teens being told I was crazy. I was told I was nervous. That I was depressed and overreacting. If a doctor can’t pin something on a disease they will usually pin the fault on the patient.

11. Best coping mechanism?

My dogs. My cats when they aren’t evil or when they are. Drawing, when I can. Reading when the book is great. The rare days I can bike ride are magic. Scrolling on Pinterest needs to be reclassified as transcendental meditation. Talking with my son. Curling up with my daughter. Laying next to my husband watching our next ok just one more episode show.

12. Favorite swear word?

FUCK. It is versatile and no word feels the same level of expression and relief when shouted.

13. What are you the most fearful of and what are you the most hopeful for in the future?

I am fucking terrified I won’t travel out of the country. I am terrified I won’t make my own money again.That my children will blame or resent me. That life will pass me by while I sit in bed waiting for a bone to come home or for my heart to stop its' jazz improv. I am scared I will get worse. That I will have to give more ground.

Hopeful isn’t much in my wheelhouse tonight. I wish it was. I wish I could say something fabulous and witty that would soften all the dark I wrote but when I began this podcast I decided on complete honesty. I am feeling sad and dark right now. Maybe if I wrote this last week or even tomorrow I would have a bright answer for this but I am writing this now and now I am not feeling it.

Links To Some Of My Favorite Things

Quickie Wheelchair Dyson V7 Midnight Texas

Marijuana Topical Apple Watch Dr. Who

Single Payer Fitbit Supergirl

Hearst Castle Go Beyond Physical Therapy

Trigger Point Release Task Rabbit Slow Cooker

Muldowney Method 5 Calls App Pinterest

Resistbot (texting as poltical actavism) HelloMD

Shameless Plug For My New Bedtime Story Book!

#Ehlers Danlos #POTS #Fibromyalgia #Fibromyalgia Symptoms #Invisible Illness

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