Saturday, May 14, 2011

The Demise of Fuck Face...Part 4

If you haven't read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 this may not make any sense to you.


Friday morning we wake up with the same void we went to bed with. Many of them start whispering as we wake up, some are still sleeping; we still feel odd. We're pretty much all on-board lately, which makes for strange days; nobody wants to miss anything, everybody wants to have their say. There are too many different things going on with all who are present, so I work on maintaining my duties of suppressing any sort of emotion that they are feeling from escaping.

It's Friday, we have a later start on Fridays, so we call the girl who we “manage” at work to see if she has heard anything about him calling in sick. She says he’s already in, over a half an hour earlier than usual. We are intrigued by this. We still don’t know what to think about what he wrote the night before, when we had sent him messages about telling his wife.
“I'd love to respond to this, but I'm too busy apartment and job hunting right now.”
He is the master of obscurity, this man, Fuck Face.

In any case we are thinking that if he indeed told her then that roughly half hour ride into work from the country must have been a very uncomfortable one. We don’t believe yet that he has actually told her. We need more proof.

We decide, once again, it’s a power outfit day, a little understated though because we’ve been having problems with our feet and so heels two days in a row just won’t cut it, we opt for the converse knock-offs. We do our hair and makeup in the same careful fashion, throw on our black fitted button up cotton blouse with the detailed scrunched sides that make it slimming, but we’ve lost so much weight since we purchased it in December that it’s not fitting like we hoped. It still looked awesome though. Black makes our laser eyes even more piercing. We are wearing our Guess jeans, again. They are very important. They are the only pair that actually fit us anymore, in addition to making our ass look fab.

We walk to work; the fact that we are so calm is disturbing to some of us. To me it feels right, this is my purpose after all, but they are uncomfortable with how good I am at cutting off their emotions, which they usually have a hard time controlling. 

We walk in the building, stop to talk to an employee and head to our office. His office is next to ours; we know that he knows we are there when we greet a fellow employee in the hall. We drop off our things and take a deep breath.

We stand in his office door, we do not smile but we have not gotten the hate part of us to wake up yet, he'll be the only one allowed any clearance today. We are feeling nothing for Fuck Face, not sadness, not happiness; we are also feeling nothing for our self.

He looks at us over the tops of his glasses from his desk, where he sits scowling at his computer screen.
“I’m going up to get some coffee. Would you like some” we ask. We just want to give him an opportunity to tell us something more without having to resort to yanking more information out of him.
He owes us this. Information.

“No” he says, he sounds angry, but not overly so.

We go about doing other things. We have to have a sit down with him to go over some ordering business and he still gives us nothing. It’s all business, but he is not being mean, he is not being harsh. He is being him. We stare at him icily while he peers at his computer screen naming off things we might need to order. We get up from this session and we can hear our anger wake up, the one of us who is good at cultivation of it. It’s about time, I was tired of doing all the work myself and they deserve to express some anger, it’s healthy in this situation.

We walk around the building and think a little, talk amongst ourselves. We go to our office. We post things on our Facebook wall that only he can see, because we are at work and we have to be careful about what is spoken out loud.
*your #typo - we dislike them when we find ours...
We intercept him on another floor of the building a little later while we are eating a sandwich and he stands in front of us and says, “It wasn’t the worst night I’ve even had sleeping in a barn,” and walks away. He is pulling equipment from a large open room at work. We start to walk away and then we turn to follow him and when he stops to pick up a piece of equipment we say we tell him what we think.

“Forgive me if I still don’t believe you” we take a step and then turn back to him and say “And in the spirit of not believing you, there are vacancies in our building. They’re month to month leases” and we walk away.

We go to our office and Tweet messages openly to him because he reads our Twitter timeline, and still has been, even that day. We realize that we have a very strange sort of communication system with him. What with all the messages via Facebook and Twitter. It’s our way, and it is the way communication with him works, and always been when it came to our relationship. Though we do an awful lot of talking with him too, when we are not at work.


After he is back in his office, after transporting equipment past our door, he come to us. He stands in our doorway, looking solemn.

With his voice lowered he says “I thought there would be more yelling, more berating, more hitting me” he says “all she did was say ‘get out’” and he raises his arm and points, as if this gesture will be the thing that makes us believe the words coming out of his mouth.

He says he will be walking up and down the streets during lunch break, looking for apartments close to work. Depending on how the weekend goes, he says, he may spend the next week in a hotel and keep looking for an apartment. What he says makes no sense to us. We don’t really believe him.

“And I’m looking for a second job, I’m not leaving this one” he says, in response to an inquiry about him quitting this job. He tells us that he is getting a second job to keep idle hands busy because without being kept busy he will likely go straight to the bottle. We know this to be true. He does like to drink, and we know just how much. However, we are not responsible for his irresponsibility and if he thinks he is using this to somehow make us feel bad. It is not working.

“That’s stupid [Fuck Face]” we say to him “you can think of better things to do with your time than drink.” It’s true, drinking is great, but there are other things. He loves to read, he has other interests, “take up a hobby, keep working on the art project you are doing. Make more art, keeping working at it.”

The art project is his first art attempt, one of which he is seeking a grant for; we’ve actually written a blog piece in attempt to help him write his grant, to help him understand a concept that we had discussed with him, one he was baffled by.

“Maybe work on other art projects so the artists you know don’t hate you for getting a grant when you’ve not actually worked at creating any art before this."  Some of us hope he gets the grant, but some hope he doesn’t - he doesn’t understand art, if he gets the grant we hope at least it will help him grow;  maybe.

He claims that the artists he knows aren’t angry about him trying to seek a grant. We think it’s just because they are not honest with him. We are always, and have always been, painfully honest with him; what we think about him, his personality, and everything else that we've ever talked about; including how we feel about him. It’s who we are. Most of us agree on general things. Some of us have some different views, but he knows most of us, and he knows that whichever one of us is talking to him is telling the truth of their opinion as they see it.

He doesn’t say much more about it. He spends the day alternating between being his pleasant self, and then huffing and puffing as he walks past our office door, trying to sound distraught. We think it is an act and it makes us believe what he has said even less.

We are observing. We are compiling information, his words, and his general demeanor. All day. During the staff meeting we catch him looking at us; he catches us looking at him. Neither of us is looking at each other with hate.

Every word he says during the day, about how his weekends are too full to work on a project with Important Boss; when he says he needs to order a bag of carrots for the horses soon. Things he is saying makes it sound like his life will be right on track as usual. We find this, his confidence, suspicious. Better he had not said a word. We analyze everything people say, always. It’s what we do. We process. He never goes for a walk to look at apartments that day.

When he is leaving he stands at our door.

“What are you up to this weekend then?” he asks, he always asks, as he puts his jacket on. He is acting completely normal.

“Drinking.” We say.

“Sounds like my weekend.” He almost smiles.

“Well, drinking, maybe painting. We’ll be on Twitter of course,” we say to him. “How about you? Working on the riding ring?”

“That project is for later. I’m supposed to be finishing the fence” he says. He mentions sleeping in the barn all weekend, mumbles about the uncertainty of his weekend.

“You know. If you need anything. You know how to contact me.” He is still our friend. We are not doing this, forcing him to tell his wife, because we hate him as a person. We hate what he has done and feel his wife deserves to know the man she is married to, the man we know. We do still love him and want to help him if he needs it. We know this probably makes those who are reading think many things about us.

We know him, to us he has always had the elements of a broken man. If he does not tell his wife, the harboring of this secret will only destroy him further. Providing he is human, of course.

He shoots us a mildly disgusted look for our comment, our offer of help. We explain to him he is still our friend, we think we said “For what it’s worth, we are sorry”. He knows we are friends, all of us are his friends; well, maybe not me. I don't have to be here often enough to worry about it.

He leaves the building, bidding us farewell.

We process everything from the day on our walk home from work. We have decided that if he comes back to us on Monday and says they have worked it out then we will carry through with plan B.

Plan B is the crafting of an apology sent in an e-mail to his wife, from an anonymous address not yet created. It will be an apology letter, brief and to the point, but making sure she has enough information; such as the duration of the affair. Just to make sure that if he has lied to us, she will still know, and he will have questions to answer. 

Every woman deserves to know the man she is married to; and we don’t deserve to be lied to.

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The next entry of The Demise of Fuck Face will come next week sometime. Let's hope for a conclusion. 

In the meantime, tomorrow/soon we are doing a Q & A entry on our life with Multiple Personality Disorder, for Mental Health Month. We've had some questions sent to us, but we want to make sure if you are confused about something pertaining to this illness that we can help explain it to the best of our ability. There is no such thing as a stupid question.

You can e-mail: justcallmefrank2010 (at) gmail.com / ask us on Twitter: @jstcallmefrank or find us on Facebook (our badge is to the top left of this blog)

Thank you for reading. We hope you read some of our other work here too.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For the month of May, Mental Health Awareness Month, we will be posting this at he bottom of each of our entries, to help provide additional information about us, and about Dissociative Identiry Disorder/Multiple Personality Disorder.

10 Things You Should Know About US That MIGHT Surprise YOU:
  1. We used to be a Baptist missionary (yeah, can you fucking believe that shit?!) [we are NOT religious]
  2. We were once married (didn’t last long) [one of our stories talks about him]
  3. We have had nearly 30 physical addresses in 30 years, mostly as an adult (nothing could contain us in the early days) [we actually own a house, but choose not to live in it]
  4. We’ve lived in 2 countries: 1 province and 6-7 different states (running much)
  5. We have lost 120 pounds since the age of 24 (100 of it when we were 24) [and it's close to 140 pounds now)
  6. We have a full time job (well, now it's 32 hours a week - but they actually let us work around the other humans!) [it get's harder everyday, and this is the longest we've ever had a single job since we were 17. We've been there almost a year]
  7. We deal with social anxiety type symptoms every day (and these days we choose not to leave home much, but for going to work) [there are about three people we feel comfortable with being in public with and sometimes we have to be out there alone]
  8. We have multiple “mental illness” diagnoses (doesn't everybody?) [p.s. all misdiagnosed]
  9. We have two beautiful cats, who piss us off every day (but they are special, because they put up with us) [though one of us hates them beyond belief]
  10. We have struggled to survive, over and over, defeating the odds thrown against us (read our stories) [seriously, how are we not dead yet?]

We've copied the stories written here that are specifically about our past (mostly abuse) and moved them to our other blog, called:
Addressing The Issue of Frank: The Origins, History and Life Story of Frank, from "Just Call Me Frank: One Womans Endeavour At Being Frank"  
(this blog also contains our artwork/photography - the following links will take you to that blog)
·                     1. Addressing The Issue of Frank: Part 1
·                     2. The Emergence of Frank: The Beginning
·                     3.The Emergence of Frank: The Second Coming
·                     4. The Emergence of Frank: Three Times A Rescuer
·                     5. The Emergence of Frank: Frank's Failure
·                     6. We Go To University & We Take A Lover (links to our other blog)
·                     7. Collision: The Other Girls Terrible Car Accident - Franks Coma
Some of our writing on this blog we like to promote, these are those entries since mid-January 2011. There are bits of writing in this blog that we do not actually promote due to embarrassment over things that some have written - they are here for our own tracking - they are angry, mean, scary things. If you feel like it you can find them on your own. Here are the highlights of what we have written so far this year:
The Mental Health Entries:
Dissociative Identity Disorder/Multiple Personality Disorder
Health:
Relationships/Friendships:
Life:
Opinion:
Art/Poetry:
Humour/Random Fun:
If you have any questions for us we are very open and will answer to our best ability - this is totally the month to ask us questions. You can either ask us on Twitter, in the comment section of a blog entry here, or e-mail us at justcallmefrank2010 (at) gmail.com.

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Resources for You - facts, figures and personal stories of other people can be found on t

hese sites:
National Institute of Mental Health: http://www.nimh.nih.gov/index.shtml
American Psychological Association: http://www.apa.org/index.aspx
Canadian Mental Health Association: http://www.cmha.ca/bins/index.asp
Mental Health Europe: http://www.mhe-sme.org/
World Psychiatric Association: http://www.wpanet.org

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