We began the journey of finding our self, our balance with each other, almost a year ago, unknown to The Other Girl. While we are happy she didn't notice me creeping up on her, we think she was also an idiot for not seeing it. Especially since she's seen it before. We know what she was doing, by pouring drugs and alcohol down our throats, subjecting up to frivolous partying...and occupying herself with men (we've stopped her from all these behaviors, unfortunately, by removing her from our life), keeping us from art, and books, painting, thinking...all for the last year or more, trying to keep me away, so she didn't have to run again, like I had made her do so many times before...to save us.
The difference, this time, as stated in prior entries, is that I like it here, we, Bitch and I, don't ever want to leave this place that is our home.
To stay, to be us, to be happy, I made TOG start writing. When we killed her off, or rather sent her on a permanent vacation, I took up most of the writing and took over everything else. We've already began sharing our story, with relevant entries being copied to an off-site location:
Addressing The Issue of Frank
The Origins, History and Life Stories of Frank, from 'Just Call Me Frank: One Womans Endeavour at Being Frank'
It's going to take time, the writing itself is painful, but we need to do it, so that I, Frank, can move on to better things for us. We'd like to think that better things will come our way. We already have a great job, a couple new friends that are ours; they only knew TOG for a short time.
You'll find this portion of our world, this blog address, punctuated with with funny or amusing distractions, and stories of our daily life, on occasion, so that we aren't in constant emotional and mental pain; because we are. In addition we are full of anger towards the majority of the world, We're trying to learn how to deal with that, though we feel we deserve to feel anger now, but there is so much...it's overwhelming.
There are plenty of recent, and past, incidences with friends, who don't happen to be male, that we could write about; how they've been additional people in our life who abandoned us over the years when TOG needed help, instead relying on me to pull her up by the bootstrap and get her out of dodge; (Yep, you can laugh at that. We thought we'd try to lighten it up a bit) but we are not ready to write about the painful things that our friends have done to us...not yet.
This evening family members landed on our little blog, our home, our existence. We can only assume they had been tipped off from an old high school friend whom we just conversed with the prior evening, and thought we could trust. The timing is rather uncanny, even if she isn't the culprit to this current crest that is ready to peak. There are so many peaks. But then, we could be paranoid. Again.
The thing about our paranoia, though, is that we usually turn out to be correct. So is it paranoia or intuition?
We received a call from Angry Brother this evening, who we suspected had landed on our blog even before the call (we have our ways), and as we exchanged tears, as I confronted himabout reading our blog; we sobbed over our many shared memories, of the injustices bestowed on us, by family members, by friends, by strangers, by people who have told us that they love us; we felt relief in the two words he said: "I understand".
We know he does.
It makes it all the more sad, that we are broken together, that we were broken together, that we were broken at all. We've been broken enough, individually, to have lived multiple lives. But the sad truth is that we only have the one.
We also suspected that The Father had found his way to our blog (no doubt thanks to our yet to be named high school friend) and our fear was confirmed. "I'm not going to sugar coat it" said Angry Brother, "he's reading it right now". We can only imagine what he thinks of us, as he reads details of our private, intimate exchanges of last year; and all that this year has brought to us.
We suppose that this may be good, but we don't know. We can only sit here and fret, and worry, and wonder if we'll answer the phone when he calls. If he'll try to take us away from the only home we've ever had. Or, if he'll just push it away, like he did the memories of the things that had been done to us.
We have always dealt with our pain through humour, which was great, because it's not a detectable flaw. You can see it sprinkled throughout our blog. People don't take us seriously much of the time, they never have, even for the small stuff. To think that we'll be taken seriously now would be a huge leap of faith; something we are void of these day.
We plan to elaborate, over time, on the many things: the physical, mental, emotional and sexual abuse that have occurred in our life, that has brought us to this point, together, stronger...and hoping....for people to accept us, finally, for who WE are, and provide them a way to understand why we are the way we are; even while we try.
We're tired of running.
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