The Most Amazing Mental Health Debate: Madness, Incorporated

Probably the most interesting debate on mental health you'll watch this month, maybe even this year...maybe ever.



Please note: if this video is missing, please find it here: http://iai.tv/video/madness-incorporated# - it may require that you sign up for a [free] account.

So That Happened...Again...

Yeah.

One of our first tests and we failed to answer all of the questions. This isn't the first time, sadly.

It happened last Fall semester too, much to our chagrin.

Last semester is was an entire backside of the question "booklet" (which resulted in a horrible grade). Needless to say it was an embarrassment, and we managed to bounce back and pull an 'A' out of the class...but...
This time it was about a quarter of a multi-faceted short essay question. The class was Media Law and Ethics, and the part we failed to answer was one that we had nailed answering in the review session the week before about utilitarianism. The suckie part about it is that the class only has three tests the whole semester. Aside from a paper coupled with a presentation, this is all there is to be graded on. *gulp*

We had prepared for the bad testing grade, having realized days later that there was a high chance that the question had not gotten answered completely. The guys at work got to hear about the worries, as we fretted about the grade. To which they responded: "Were you just sitting at your desk thinking about ethics?!"...supposed that's opposed to sitting there thinking about nothing, which is probably what they do all day.

The test was finally passed back this week (two full weeks after having taken it), and the grade...well...it could have been worse, but based on what the professor wrote...it could have been soooo much better.
As is, we got out of the test with a fairly high 'B' and a repeat on a lesson from last year...
ALWAYS CHECK ALL OF THE PAGES AND ALWAYS REREAD THE QUESTIONS....DUMMY.

You're never as smart as you think you are...ya know?

On the upside we've started to decrease the hours at work (but only by 3.5 hours a week so far) so there's more time to focus on the avalanche of assignments, tests and essays that has started to cause stress headaches and malaise. It seemed more prudent to deal with the lack of income and not have to pay to take a class over again. Additionally, having a nervous breakdown is not conducive to passing classes either, and if anything has been learned over the last several years, especially by journaling - it's easier to notice the signs, be honest and be proactive, than it is to pretend that everything is just fine and end up worse off for it. Guess that's one lesson we've actually learned...maybe?

Let's Talk About Suicide, Baby

This was going to be an issue that we let slide into the pile with so many other things we would have liked to write about this summer (there's been so much), but sometimes there are some people who write some things that crawl into this brain and gnaw at the edges. To eradicate it, is to write. To cleanse the mind...

Mental illnesses, like true chronic depression, is not reserved for the successful, or the talented...nor is it reserved for the poor or disenfranchised.
Mental illness is often due to chemical imbalances of the brain, among many other factors.
(Causes of Depression http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/basics/causes/con-20032977)
Those chemical imbalances know no income level, or social status, or level of talent.

To spread a blanket over suicide and claim it to be selfish, or claim it to be for certain people who deserve it (whether it be because they lived a great life they couldn't handle, or a shitty one, or because they were an icon, or a nobody) is presuming you know the life or support structure, or health, or the mind, of the person who has committed it (or attempted it). You assume a lot the minute you judge someone for making a decision about their life, just because they weren't thinking about you (or the people so many claim loved them), or because their life was a certain way, or worse, because you feel the experience you had with the same mindset/illness is somehow the same for everybody else.

Perhaps the person doesn't have a support system, or if they do, that support system doesn't take their issues seriously, because...you know...depression so bad that they can't imagine a way out other than to kill themselves, is selfish, "all in their head", not real, their fault...
It's not true, (even if you think it is) but often there is nobody in that support system that has ever truly experienced severe depression. In these cases, it's true that nobody understands.
But luckily there are countless people in the world that do. They aren't always easy to find, but if you can't be supportive, you can help find people who are. You can help. You can't help by being judgmental or selfish, you can help, by helping, by listening. Watching for the signs. Understanding the illness.

Depression is not simply about being sad, or being unhappy with your life, or being "bored". 
While those things contribute to overall depression, it's much more.
(Symptoms: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/basics/symptoms/con-20032977)

Another problem that is growing increasingly common for mental health disorders and issues is the prevalence of them (the terms) being depreciated in meaning by people who pretend for attention, or people who joke (for attention), or people who insert the term that describes very real symptoms as a verb, to sound relevant or make their report "pop" (such as in the media), or people who are simply uneducated and inexperienced with real mental health issues. Or people who are ignorant and hateful.

A good example of a depreciated mental illness going the way of depression, is schizophrenia. Over the last year or so there has been an increase in media personalities using schizophrenia as a verb to describe something random, or disordered; just like people saying they are depressed, when they are simply sad, this distorts the true meaning of the word. This devalues the seriousness of the issue, reduces the likelihood of people dealing with real symptoms to be taken seriously, or feel that they'll be taken seriously.

You don't have to agree, of course. But many mental illnesses, including real depression, have very real symptoms - physiological and psychological. Sometimes symptoms people have become skilled at hiding for periods of time. Sometimes signs and symptoms that are obvious - but in a world where people are increasingly concerned with self, they go unnoticed, or become demonized.

And just because you've experienced some sort of depression, and were able to overcome it, doesn't mean everybody can. You can't expect people to be as strong as you, but you can encourage them to be strong. Belittling people, making them a victim of your ignorance, is not a display of strength.

Mental illness is illness.

[BUT...don't forget: 'A Message To Your Diagnosis' http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com/2012/05/message-to-your-diagnosis.html]

Bottom line...

• You would no more tell a person's family grieving the death of someone who suffered from cancer that because you had cancer and got chemo and beat the cancer, that their family member should have been able to.
• You would no more walk around saying "Man, I'm feeling so cancerous today".
• You would no more tell a person with Ebola that because you had the flu pretty bad once you know exactly how they feel.

The one thing that does not help is making people who, sadly, are a victim of the chemicals in their brain, feel like they are victim of your hate, your ignorance, your scorn...your bullying.

You calling people who commit suicide selfish (or weak) is not going to stop them from taking their life, if anything, they want to stop hearing how their mental health issues are just them being needy, or wanting attention, or being weak.
People who think about committing suicide, or commit suicide, see no way out of their situation...of the hell in their brain.
You boarding up the door is not going to help them, talking about it openly and compassionately just might.

Notes on Coping and Support via Mayo Clinic: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/basics/coping-support/con-20032977

Picking Up The Chips - Mental Health Month 2014

Alternative Title: On Understanding

The thing about mental illness is that even when you have good days, good months, good years, there always exists somewhere in you the fear of the if, or the when, it might or will all crumble again.

Just as a quick brief, the mental health issues that grace “my” diagnosis rap sheet, severe depression, social anxiety disorder, manic depression (bipolar disorder) and schizophrenia, are mostly misdiagnosis' - depending on who you ask, I suppose.

It took several years of being a pharmaceutical guinea pig, over and over, before coming to terms with the “problem” in this brain. It is fractured, and was at a very very young age. It is fractured into different people; different people with different feelings, different wants and desires, different interests, different memories. Different entities, sometimes at odds, wanting different lives. They are more cohesive now, the memories, than they have ever been. But that took both understanding, and time. While it is not always easy, we have learned to communicate with each other in order to try to live a more stable existence than we had in the past, separated, fragmented, and dangerous to one another.

It probably sounds strange, it probably sounds...who knows, maybe dumb or unbelievable to you. Who knows. It's not really like it's portrayed in movies either.
Just as there isn't anybody who knows how your mind works, or has not had the experiences you've had, or seen the things you have, neither have you of anybody else's.

What most people call multiple personality disorder is actually known as dissociative identity disorder, and is not a personality disorder, rather a dissociative disorder. Everybody at some time experiences a little dissociation. Those who have a history of trauma and abuse experience more severe forms, occasionally for some, often for others life disrupting in nature. People with dissociative identity disorder may be considered fractured by some, but they are not broken. It is simply the function of a protective brain at a young age of development.

There have been several times throughout the lives shared in this body where, seemingly unexpectedly, the strives that had been made to remain at the top, to stay mentally healthy, were dashed. Looking back on each time, the signs were all there, despite being blind to them at the time. It is the err of the human, really. Hindsight is always the teacher, as long as you pay attention in class.

Four years ago this past June was the last time it happened, and it months of a downward spiral followed. The only clear memory of the moment it all tipped over the edge and the months of madness ensued, was the end of September 2010. We moved out of the house we owned in the city where we lived at the time, renting it out (which ended up being a disaster twice over) and moving closer to the more urban part of the center of the city. The house was too big, and having no car, despite being very close to the center of the city, it felt isolating.

It required several trips with a moving van, taken during the day. Most of the people we knew at the time were at work, so it had to be done alone. Back and forth across town, up and down the elevator of the building we moved into, box after box of books, kitchen supplies, small furniture. For whatever reason we were frustrated, sad, angry – not uncommon for us, actually. It was hard on our back, which was riddled with a plethora of issues because of a bad car accident six years before involving a semi-truck. We had just ended a two year relationship a few weeks back, a relief really, but a change none-the-less. We were moving to a new area, a hipper more urban part of the city with a nightlife right out the front door. We should have been more excited.

Pulling one of the final boxes from the van, a large wooden case of poker chips fell out and spilled all over the alley next to the apartment building. Crying, kneeling in the dirty alley, we grabbed at the chips, which just seemed to keep multiplying. Like all the pieces we were picking up on the ground, we broke. Exhausted, sobbing, we sat in the dirt, head in hands. We hit the breaking point.

After that day everything changed fast. It took several months to scratch our way back to being mentally healthy, days, nights, screaming and sobbing on the apartment floor, sobbing on the living room floor, breathing in the dirty carpet fibers. Sometimes drunk, sometimes sober - punctuated by days and nights of stupid unwise decisions. We lost some great friends (and not so great ones). We lost a good job. We lost our mind. We looked totally together on the outside, save the weekend night when we would wander around the neighborhood, the grocery store, the video store, drinking white wine from a back metal water bottle. The paranoid in us closed the blinds, which stayed closed for months on end. We shut ourselves in, and shut everyone else out, save a few specific people, new friends who were helping us through this, who meant the world to us. We had managed to come out of the fog. It took vanquishing our core, sending her away; she is never allowed back again, she was the weak link, as far as many of us were concerned.

A year later, October 2011, we were on the move again, this time going back to the states, new boyfriend from England in tow. Even though the relationship involved mutual sacrifices, his love for us, all of us, was a giant Band-Aid. We met James through social media. He had read our blog, he knew all the dirty vile things we were capable of. He knew how our brain was fractured. He started following our Twitter account and we became friends. We never thought we could be truly loved by another person again.

He knew that a relationship with us was never going to be easy. Some of us loathed him. Eight months later, we married so we could continue being together in the States. It may not be “perfect”, sometimes he doesn’t feel as loved as he deserves to, sometimes, some of us, feel caged, but at some point in life it becomes clear that no relationships are ever easy, they all take work, and commitment.

Four years later, we live in a small town with James, in a house bought after the sale of the house we owned in Canada, that took over a year to find, and many struggles to get through. We are not social with the people in the town. From our many experiences, a product of moving nearly twenty times as an adult, people are temporary. We still don’t like leaving the house very often, but we have to, occasionally it causes anxiety, but there are ways to deal with that. However, we still try to travel, because life is short, and living a life being a slave to anxieties and fears, is no way to live.

We have a good paying part time job in a city nearby with people that are nice, and have just finished the first two semesters of university (with exemplary grades), upon returning to secondary education after a five years. There is only one year left to go and we will have a second degree (one in culinary arts, one in communications). It will have taken almost twelve years to finish the degree we started in 2003. Physically we’ll be pushing 36 years old when graduation comes, but the achievement will be worth it.

In our spare time we paint, and garden, and read, and spend a lot of time on social media where we have met some amazing people. Despite still experiencing mental health issues from time to time, we have learned how to manage them fairly well, and have had a really good couple of years. We will have been off of all medications for four years this June, and hope never to go back to them.

But…

Always lingering is the fear, it suddenly pops back in the head when things feel like they are going extra well. On the 40 minute commute to work or school. The falls that led to the gamut of diagnoses’…the final fall that lead to this place. Will there be another? Will there be another relapse?

It does no good worrying about it, some might say. But all of the times we have come out of it, stronger, we have pushed forward, forgotten about it, thinking arrogantly that we will never be “sick” again…and then hairline cracks form, we refuse to recognize them. Then they spread, and they weaken the vessel. Then life gives us a small bump, and suddenly we are picking up the chips in the dirt, with tear-stained cheeks.

It’s mental health month. Another month to bring awareness to something people are already aware of; but awareness means nothing without understanding, just as you can no more understand the life of a bird by simply being aware of its existence.

You probably know someone with a mental health issue. You may have one yourself. You may develop one in the future. So please remember: the mental illness is not the person; it is a burdensome accessory people are yoked with. People with mental illness get a bad rap in the media, beneath feigned concern, as if they need that extra struggle of harsh judgment because their brain works differently. Many of the people who deal with mental health issues have been through hell and back, they fight to come out on top, to be employable, to have normal relationships, to be productive…sometimes over and over again. Even if they don’t, even if their struggle seems too great to be able to manage employment, manage “normal”, they just need support and encouragement. People are capable of overcoming so much, if only they believe in themselves, and have the support from people they care about.

Next time you are quick to judge, take a step back from yourself, and put yourself in their shoes, and see how you like being judged because of the footwear you didn't choose. This month, do more than be aware. Try to understand.

A Saturday Night Rant

Recently we had a blog comment from someone who had an opinion about our mental "illness".

Based on nothing, making claims with nothing backing it up, this "troll" basically stated that because no money was being put into the research of our mental illness (a lie), that it was therefore illegitimate...and shouldn't we just "give it a rest"..."get over it"...

We deleted it. Because who needs to read that over and over.

Not us.

People struggle, from childhood-based post-traumatic stress disorder (which is what dissociative identity disorder is), to adult post traumatic stress, to bipolar disorder, to depression...and beyond.
How dare someone discount another person's life-long coping mechanism, another person's life experience, another person's mental health...because funding is not being put into its research.

We understand how illogical our condition is and seems; we also know that our real life experience with who we all are is real. It sucks. It's hard sometimes. Some days we want to die. But it is all we have ever known; without each other we would be dead many times over...we are our own safety net, full of holes, but still here.

Hey, asshole. DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) has no specific symptoms that can be cured by a pill, that there doesn't already exist one for. Money for research dedicated to the study of it is not freely given, because nobody can make money from it - only profits from some of the symptoms, which medications already exist for.
Or maybe you don't understand how Big Pharma works.

Don't fuck with how people cope with life. One in five Americans are diagnosed with a mental illness, and still, many go undiagnosed, sometimes because of the fear of people who make assumptions, based on nothing at all, just because they don't understand. Don't be that ignorant asshole who just wants to destroy the harmless inner-network of someone's life, just because you don't understand.

<end rant>

Trust

Sometimes we have "episodes"...that's what we call blank spaces is what has currently/recently transpired.

Last night we had one. It's been awhile.

It goes something along the lines of one of said something out loud, that upset James, and then what ensues is...well...last night a lot of crying, among other things, that we won't write about...
|We threatened to leave; we weren't "allowed" to leave the house because of our "fragile mental state".

Everything was fine, the last thing that we remembered was having a conversation about the right way to pronounce the last name of a British actor, and then cut to us making a remark about our birthday as James seemingly angrily put his laptop on the coffee table and went to bed.

We could tell something was wrong. He was angry. We went to bed and irrationally started to cry.

The conversation that ensued is really boring, but in the end we decided to go sleep on the sofa. We were confused, was not sure why he was upset and being so cold.

Later, on the sofa, after some argument we came to find out that one of us had said something mean, and it had upset him. We had no memory of it. None. We freaked out. It's been a long time since this has happened.

Sobbing in his arms, he held us.

Today on the way to work we realized just how much trust goes into a relationship when one person has a "condition" like ours, from our end.

We trust him, in times of confusion, that what he claims has happened is true and accurate. Which, is a feat sometimes, because his short term memory is shit...and ours, usually, is pretty stellar.

Bottom line: People who get into a relationship with those who have Dissociative Identity Disorder, or anyone with a mental health issue, should be mindful of the the kind of trust being laid upon them.

That's why it's always important to be honest and upfront about those kinds of things.
Not everybody is ready for that kind of responsibility.

A Fight For Them All

After painting tonight we sat down and watched a show on msnbc about prison inmates ('Lockup: Raw').

We've never seen it before. It's actually really interesting; and heartbreaking -tonight it is, anyway. (Knowing us, some of us would probably not think so)

This show makes us, well, me, miss the many homeless, low-income, and mentally ill people we worked with in one of our previous jobs (the one we got fired from almost exactly two years ago).

People don't respect the homeless, the low-income, people who struggle because of mental illness. Often those people are all part of the same group. Some people play a victim, in their day-to-day life, meanwhile able to manage a semblance of a productive life. The people we've met and knew on a daily basis never did that...they just seemed...lost and trying. Lost and fighting. Lost and being defeated. But they never seemed like victims.

We remember one guy. He was very nice. He struggled with some pretty severe mental illness. As a matter of fact we had met him the first few times while he was going through a schizophrenic episode. Then he got put into medical care.

When he came back he was..."completely normal". While he was "no longer ill" he kept coming back to the facility where we worked for quite a long time. We got to know him, his story, his past; he had been successful in law-enforcement, a father, a husband...he told us about the voices of angels and demons he used to hear.
He had been, and still was, fairly religious.

Eventually he started asking us to go out for with coffee with him, and after repeated "rejection", he came around less and less. We probably will never forget him.

In the short time (almost a year) we worked closely with people who had criminal histories, mental disorders, were high on drugs - from meth, to chemicals they huffed in back-allies...it changed our view of the people who fall through the cracks of society.

We may struggle with mental health issues on a day-to-day basis, like so many in the world; but working closely with those people...it was something special. It was something sobering. It was something that made us want to fight for them all.
We write for them.

Some of us are hard angry bitches.

Thankfully we're not all like that.

Never Too Late, Two Days Short and A Psych Week Special on Discovery

We missed Psych Week on Discovery Health and Fitness, which is probably better for us, because we have a hard time dealing with watching some types of programming like that.

We did nothing in the way of writing for Mental Health Month, which is May every year, and now it's June. It's JUNE! So, we're going to try to make up for slacking in May...maybe. Today we will anyway.

Flipping TV channels drinking coffee this morning we hit on this Discovery Health Special from Psych Week very briefly, and there was a touching scene where they brought a whole bunch of kids diagnosed with mental illness together for Jani's birthday.

At that moment it occurred to us that a lot of people think "severely" mentally ill people "have a look" (beyond the now becoming garden-variety anxiety, depression, bipolar/manic depression, and other illnesses that don't involve psychosis) or should somehow seem obviously "off" or "different"; it's a really heartbreaking stigma, We know that it's usually because of how Hollywood portrays "the insane" or "crazy", or people being uneducated about the more "obscure" of mental illnesses. You can't see mental illness.

When it comes to how people view adults with severe mental illness many assume those with afflicted become committed to a mental hospital or life on the streets, and indeed that happens, but not as much as many would assume.

The truth is a huge amount of people with mental illness where psychosis is involved live normal lives, look normal, have jobs, have families, have educations of all levels. They do everything "normal" people do.
But then some don't.
It's important to realize that everybody with the same mental illness aren't the exactly same...

Now we're babbling...but...here is a really great video about children with mental disorders, everything from schizophrenia to dissociative identity disorder to autism to a wide range of other things, it touches lightly on what their lives are like and how their parents deal with it.

Give it a chance, learn some things.
(Link, because it leaks over the the edges here: http://health.discovery.com/tv-shows/psych-week/videos/born-schizophrenic-janis-world.htm)

An Afternoon Ditty On Gun Control

There was a time anybody who wanted to could drive a car, no age limit - then you had to get a license, and they imposed speed limits, rules and regulation to make driving safe for everyone.

There was a time anybody could smoke cigarettes, no matter the age. Then they learned about health risks associated with smoking, and regulated it so only people over a certain age could buy/smoke them.
Then they learned about harmful second-hand smoke is, and regulated where you could smoke them.

There was a time when drugs like cocaine was put into Coca Cola, and most manor of drugs (the non-alcohol, non-nicotine, non-caffeine type) were legal to use - Then they learned of risks associated with using them...mostly to the person using them of course. So they outlawed them. (but now in some states regulate marijuana)

There was a time anybody, at any age, could drink alcohol...then came prohibition, and when that was over, tighter regulation.

Many of those things are dangerous if misused/overused/abused, to the person using it, and often to people around them, in a variety of ways.

That doesn't mean the people abusing these substances are mentally ill, does it?

Sure, these rules/regulations are broken everyday by irresponsible people and children, because "bad people will do bad things anyway, so it won't help", but that has never meant we, as a society, refused to regulate them.

That doesn't mean we should make access to purchase, and use them, easier.

As a matter of fact over history better regulation (and awareness) has reduced the issues associated with them.

Now, let's talk about gun regulation, and why we don't need it...?

More from us on Guns...
A Mental Illness Rant: http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com/2012/12/a-mental-illness-rant.html
Guns, Guns, and Freedom: http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com/2012/07/guns-guns-gunsand-freedom_20.html

A Mental Illness Rant

This ranted started out as this:
"Let's just make people scared of the mentally ill.Thanks media, fucking thank you for erasing years and years of work to erase the stigma."
We posted it to Twitter.
Then to Facebook.
And then we started a comment, and as the comment grew longer, we knew this was the place for it.

This rant, if you will, is related to the tragic event known as the Sandy Hook Massacre (December 15, 2012).

You can't turn on the TV without hearing about it. CNN has been gleaning every dark nook and cranny for information that can be sought. It's rating feeding frenzy  Goodness even knows what's being said on Fox News. We shudder to think.

Today, on a treadmill, we finally reached a breaking point. One of the journalists of CNN was interviewing a man who said that the mentally ill should be locked up.

Some things are better said in a Tweet.

Sure, lock up all the mentally ill; but how do you choose which ones, without including yourself. Mental illness can develop at any time.
— Just Call Me Frank™© (@JustCallMeFrank) December 19, 2012

Watching the news this last week, listening to people bang on about mental illness, we have become...deflated, sad. Maybe even a little scared.

Some think that the mentally ill should all be locked up, but how do you choose who is "too mentally ill"? The child who had one violent outburst? Two? Three?; The person on anti-depressants?; The person on anti-anxiety medication?; The person who went to a therapist once, twice, three or more times? The person with a 10 year old diagnosis of schizophrenia, who hasn't been on anti-psychotics in years...

It's not the mental illness, it's the person. A person in not their mental illness. A person is a human animal, with urges, and desires. Sometimes that's sadness, sometimes that's anger, sometimes that's frustration.

A man gets angry, and hit his wife once. Is he mentally ill?
A child gets angry, and kicks a wall. Is the child mentally ill?
A mother screams out of frustration, throws a book against a wall. Is she mentally ill?
A little girl comes home from school, locks herself in her room and cried of frustration. Is she mentally ill?
A woman goes through a divorce, and needs anti-depressants. Is she mentally ill.
A college student is anxious about their future, and finds comfort in anti-anxiety medication. Are they mentally ill?

Any one of these people could be capable of committing a violent crime. You could be capable. You just don't know it yet.

Under the sheets in an Orwellian nightmare, this country has managed to turn everything that makes a person themselves, uniquely them, into a mental illness. The only feeling and emotion not considered a mental illness is happiness...as the country shovels happy pills down their throat. A billion dollar industry.

Who is mentally ill to the point being lock-up, and who isn't. Are mere threats of violence enough? Did the boy who shot up the theater in Aurora Colorado have violent tendencies (no). Who gets to decide? Call us crazy, but the government shouldn't be the one, and neither should you, or me, or us. When you start locking people up because of your irrational media driven fears, that's just another freedom taken away.

Some people who fear the loss of their gun rights are deciding that they could easily blame the mentally ill, instead of take some responsibility, and embrace a little compromise; perhaps, we should just lock up "the crazies"...because people who hug their guns tight, despite glaring problems, are obviously the sane ones.

No, we're not anti-gun, we've written numerous times here that we aren't. We are pro-regulation. Guns have a purpose: hunting and home security. Assault weapons, and many semi-automatic, are not designed for any of that. They are designed to kill a lot of people, fast. That's it. (A real man can kill a deer/animal, with a simple rifle).

People are people, they've been killing in the name of religion, in the name of land ownership, in the name of love, in the name of war, for all of existence. And it's never been considered a mental illness before.

There will never be an easy solution in country as large as the United States, with such a diverse population. There can be compromise, but the compromise shouldn't be blaming the mentally ill.

Trying To Locate The "Human" In "Humanity" (Part I)

Turns out…bleh.

We don’t know how to start this post, so we’ll just start it by...


This weekend is just another where people prove to us why humanity…sucks…and why there is nothing “humane” about "humanity".

From the people yesterday who yelled “Faggots!” out of a moving car at us and James/The Boyfriend…(meanwhile, we’re female, so it was nothing but misdirected hatred of some sort) while we were standing at a bus stop; to the people who were laughing at us as we very gently danced, while sitting, on a bus bench, smiling happily at James, listening to the music from another vehicle…they stared, they laughed...we don't know why. We're not funny looking, nor were we being excessive in our movements. They stared, we looked, they stared...laughed...joked, said things we couldn't understand/hear...all the while looking at us. We tried not to pay attention...tried not to notice.

Other things yesterday brought to mind apocalyptic movies where people are on drugs, and acting all rude and insane…laughing and mocking from vehicles with no warranted reason. We're not sure if you understand those kinds of scenes, from movies where society has eroded and people are insane...but really, these days it feels like you can just look out the window.

So much pain.

Then today, more trouble with our rental property, after getting new tenants in July and letting them live there , rent free, for a month, in exchange for tossing out all the garabge/belongings the last tenant had leftwhen she skipped out (turns out the police had a warrant, busted down the back door and raided the house, which is probably why she fled…awesome that they bothered calling the person who owns the house, after permanently damaging the backdoor/property).

So, we let the new tenants live there for free in July, August they paid the cash portion of the rent, and because they are on disability, the government paid the remainder…which was already $300 less than we had previously rented the house for. We wrote about how we lowered the rent because we though wetrusted them and wanted someone there who we could trust.

September hit and we were given excuses as to why the $200 cash could no be paid, so-and-so hadn’t been working as much, blah blah blah.

Friday was September 30^th, the last day of the month, so we texted one of the guys (“Guy A”) who rents our house, there are three, and asked about Septembers $200, and when we could expect it, and now Octobers $200, since “tomorrow is October”.

Us: “Do you guys have the $200 for September? Tomorrow is October…”

Nothing was heard until Saturday when he said to contact “Guy B”. So we texted him and inquired “Hey, Guy B, Guy A said to text you about the $200 for September, and now the $200 for October. Let me know when you are available to drop it off.”

What follows is an exact transcript of the text communication…

Guy B: “Im still waiting to here wot is going on you dot wwont to deill with this and I cant live in hous and half to dill with it. Im at camp will tex you wen I get back today.

Us: “I talked to you about it already, I’m not getting a realtor until next week, you still owe rent, despit not wanting to deal with it you are all living there. Text when you get back to the city”

Guy B: “If you going to tock to me like that we will go the rent men this week to sit don to talk war I have witness I dot trus you and we have repars to have don let the rentill men deill with this then.

Us: “I cannot understand anything you are writing other than “talk to me like that” and I’m really not sure what you mean that.

Guy B: “I wrote you to let you know I am at the camp ad would like to talk to you when I get back, and you mentioned the money owimg? We need to sit down and talk when I get back to the city, today would be best”

Us: “Yes. Guy A said to talk to you about the rent. Today would be excellent. Text me when you know what time, and where, works for you.”

Guy B: “Thank you”

About an hour and a half passed and we got a text that he would be here in ten minutes. The time between the last exchange and the final text we tried to understand his texts…what exactly was he saying about not trusting us…why did he feel like he shouldn’t pay the rest of the rent. We fumed, lets be honest...there was a lot of yelling at, but not directed at, The Boyfriend.

Yes, Guy B was upset about having to move out of the house…we have a hard time feeling sorry for him though…seeing as we have to move out of the COUNTRY, and fuck you, sorry for your fucking inconvenience.

We met him on the steps of our building, the exchange only took about 90 seconds…and before we knew it we hadn’t raised our voice once…but we had requested he didn’t yell at us…

Guy A stated how “He’s not yelling, trust me”, all of a sudden Guy C doesn’t live there anymore, he couldn’t stay because he didn’t want to live his life “up in the air”.

They are upset because we have to sell the house and they have to move our, they love the house. They (2 of the 3) are on disability, one of them have many issues and does not deal with change very well; despite the fact, Guy C lived there in September and so they owe for that rent.

We explain the rent is still the same, at least for the last month, and they still have to pay it…and all of a sudden, within seconds, there is a shit.

Guy B is yelling at us, despite previously stating he would pay the rent, his portion, for November, and December, and any month needed…now he is yelling that consider this his month notice and they will be out by the end of the month…before we know it the two are storming down the sidewalk, he turns to yell at us, stating that we had made an agreement of 3 years, standing in the kitchen (it should be noted that since renting to them we have NEVER talked to Guy B in the house because he has never been around the two times we have stopped by, so we do not know what kitchen his is referring to).

All of a sudden he yells before getting into the car, calling us a “Fucking schizophrenic retard”…

James puts his hands over our ears, but it’s too late. We stare at the guys getting into the vehicle. It’s too late, the words have been digested. Tears rush to our eyes.

We are not schizophrenic.

They pull away from the curb and James stands up, Guy A gets out of the car, in the middle of the street, in an aggressive manor, and Guy B yells something to James about “Whitey” (it should be noted that all involved, the two renters, are at least half “white” each, misdirected anger, clearly)…

We yell at them as they drive away, after collecting ourselves, flipping them the finger. There are people all over, watching. They don’t care, neither do we.

We called the non-emergency number to file a complaint about our teneants verbally harassing us, but apparently nobody can do anything, but the “tenancy board” can be a mediator, so we have to call them tomorrow.

Without ending this abruptly we will mention we called Fabulous People, because Guy A is her cousin, to ask her what their (the guys') problem was. She was shocked at the behaviour and was sure to mention that she had just found out that Guy B actually suffers from schizophrenia.

Without repeating what all we said, because it starts to get fuzzy now…we will say this…

<rant>

We are mentally "disabled". We also have very low tolerance for other mentally disabled, semi-functional, people. Be a fucking adult. Learn to manage your illness. Being mentally disabled is not an excuse for your poor behaviour. You are not entitled to anything different than anyone else. This is life. Do you think ours is fucking easy? NO. 32 years of abuse and mental illness, countless mental illness diagnoses, tons of medication…fuck you if you feel entitiled.

<end rant>

Obviously these guys, three of them who split rent at $700 a month, two who get their rent paid by disability, all of whom get their utilities paid by the government, feel like they have a right to shirk their responsiblkities as adults, and hide behind their illness. Or maybe they are just assholes...either way...fuck you, assholes. And not just those. Fuck you, assholes.

Sure, we could have said the meanest rudest shit to them possible, if only they hadn’t yelled their insults while getting into and from a moving vehicle, like so many other pussies we encountered over the weekend.

You’re real ballsy, you asses, you fucking idiots, who think you can mistreat people and run.

Sorry. Not sorry. NOT sorry. We’re tired of the world, we’re tired of being beaten down at every corner, we’re tired of seeing what’s left of humanity, the good humanity, be destroyed by a civilization who is full of self-interested, self-entitled, self-important, fuckwads…slowly and slowly ...all people care about is themselves…and slowly and slowly tolerance for people who don’t, people who want to do good, is eroding. The destruction of humanity.

That’s all.

We’re going to drink now…because is it any fucking wonder why we do?

We want out of this city, we want out of this everywhere, if it wasn't for the 1% (Fabulous Person...and to a lesser degree, Fuck Face) of this city, James our boyfriend, and our friends on Twitter…we'd been dead this year, by our own hand, because the world just keeps getting more disappointing to some of us, to most of us, collectively to all of us, we guess.

We want people to not suck. We want our innocence back, whatever of it we ever had…because holy fuck...we probably, collectively, never had it. Dreams. Can we survive on dreams? We certainly cannot on luck because just when we think we get it, we're reminded we never really had it...and we beg the question again, apparently...'Being A Good Person; What's The Point?' (http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com/2011/09/being-good-person-what-is-point.html)

<apologies for all the spelling/grammar errors, I have been drinking...and I have not been around much recently and so...well, that's not really an excuse, but sorry>

~Frank

A struggle...we struggle...we hate to hate...hate...it's all destruction...
and we can't help but hate...it's an endless circle...with no inner peace.

'One or Nine? I say Nine' - James' Blog Post

Our response to James' post is in the entry that follows this one...

---------------------------------------

September 27, 2011
This will be my third post on this subject, that is the subject of how I think of Frankie (@JstCallMeFrank), my girlfriend be it as one individual or as nine separate and distinct people.
If this is your first post of my blog and you haven't read Frankie's (http://just-call-me-frank.blogspot.com/) then a very brief recap:
Frankie has Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), formally referred to as Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) and currently there are nine known* personalities.
*they will be carrying out some more mapping soon to better understand the known nine and to see if any more unknown personalities exist.

This is also a rather long and rambling post. It's the most difficult subject I have bloged about, thus this being the third attempt. I know, somewhere in my head is an answer to this that whilst won't make them say "oh that's OK then, I see, in that case do carry on seeing us as nine" it will at least I hope, provide reason enough for them to understand and accept why I have this need / desire to see them as more than one. But it keeps alluding me. I remember at stupid times like when I'm in bed or out and I always forget minutes later. I'm hoping if I ramble enough it might come back to me; I don't have much hope though.

For the most part they are simply "Frankie", my girlfriend, a 'plural singularity'. I made that up so to explain, they are one but they are referred to as "they", "them", "their" etc. just as they refer to themselves as "we" or "us".
For the majority of the time (all of the time if they had their wish) I see them as one, I treat them as one and we are all happy with that. The one day-to-day exception to that is Bethany (an 'alter') who's just six years old, thus is treated differently with regard to intimacy.
This works pretty well and as I hinted at, is the way they would prefer things to be. But I have written several blogs where I discuss the difficulites with this and why I find it necessary to go against their wishes and at times try and work out who -which specific alter- is out at any given time. Again, in short, it's generally due to wanting to get to know them, them as in all the alters and them as in the collective plural singularity that is Frankie (for the benefit of new readers, one alter is called Frank but they are collectively known as Frankie). My only other reason given for this need / desire is to do with the fact that one is six years old, one hates me (hates everyone) and one is a boy.

So OK then, let's have another attempt to view them as one: This is something incredibly difficult to do and harder still to put into words. What's a typical day? They wake up, they're normally not happy about that (mostly that's just a general don't like morning thing, as opposed to them hoping they die in their sleep, mostly) and sometimes they are in a pleasant... (going to try to avoid the word 'mood')... they are pleasant towards me and sometimes they are quite irritated (in general, not (just) with me). They shower, get dressed for work, grab their knives and leave. Sometimes I get an "I love you" and sometimes I don't. I usually get a kiss but not always. When I get neither it does pinch a bit.*2
They come home from work and they are normally happy to see me (to be home) but I know not to "pester" them too much, they have their little routine and I do often get in the way of that. Today (Monday 26th September), like most days because of their job, they are in pain (they have problems with their back due to a car accident several years ago) and this does not help their... fuck it, mood. I didn't get a kiss today, they came in, said hello, asked about dinner, asked for wine, went on twitter. Sometimes I (need to) ask questions and this often pisses them off and they make no attempt at hiding it, usually they just bitch about me on twitter but sometimes they snap at me and get angry with me, then bitch about me on twitter. Sometimes this comes out of the blue. Twitter is a higher priority then me, as a rule.*3
They're hungry, we talk about food, then they "decide" they're not hungry and don't want to eat. Then later they'll want to eat pizza, then they'll say they should probably have a salad, then they'll get upset, sometimes they'll cry. Not everyday, some days, most days in fact to be fair, I know in advance what dinner will be and I'll have it prepared ready. But sometimes it's not so easy, especially at weekends, especially if we're out. Later in the evening they'll want crisps (that's chips to you Americans) or some other snack. Or if we have had a proper dinner and there's a lot / some left they'll eat it all and then get upset (this is sometimes because carbs upset their stomach, sometimes because they don't like eating too much). After that they might want to do something with me, watch a film (play on the new xbox), then they'll go on twitter, they might forget about wanting to watch a film, they might have a glass of wine, they might have three. They will be happy and they will be sad, they will be happy and they will be angry, they will be crying and they will be angry, they will be happy about going to bed, they might be sulky about it. We might have sex, we might not, we may start, we may not finish.
The weekends where we are together more is even more fun.

It sounds quite bad, written in this manner. It's not inaccurate or exaggerated but it does for-go the times that are fantastic, the times we have fun and laugh and enjoy being with each other. Why did I not include them? Like I said, the above is accurate and is fairly typical. I'd also need a few thousand words to go into every minute of every day but again I can use an example of today - they are reading my blog post for today, which is about me saying "Goodbye" to England, they finish reading it and they are joking with me about some of the things I wrote. I go over to them and they put their arms around me, they kiss me, we talk about things briefly, we're all happy, the slightly down mood seemingly forgotten. But anything could undo that again.

Are they any different to any other girl / woman? You might laugh and so "no" but they are. Perhaps I only see it because I know them (all) as well as I do and I see the differences but at least to me, no, they are not the same. And I've been out with nurses and they are proper mardy, moody, bitches!!

If they really were just one, if they didn't have DID but the above was still typical I would probably struggle greatly (OK, even more so) being their boyfriend**. It's not easy when you are going out with someone who's attitude towards you can change almost mid-sentence, when they ask something of you then get angry with you for doing it, when they love you for being there, helping out with things one minute then resent you being there, writing bitchy blog / Tumblr posts about you, loving you then hating you with venom (and I mean proper, vile hatred) and when you're not the only one they have feelings for**. It makes it really difficult sometimes to love them, to love them unconditionally, to love them with every fibre.

To see them as one person, to treat them as one person, knowing them as I do (and that's an important point, it's because I know them, this is not some sort of ticket for others to try and do like-wise), just doesn't seem possible. But if I try, if I can, I will need even more patiences than I have now. To see them as one is to see them as a demanding, hypocritical, contradictory, difficult, moody, bitchy (sometimes damn right nasty), sometimes paranoid, unkind, uncaring, unsympathetic bitch. Fucking horrible bitch. But they are also incredibly loving, funny, smart (not just ...ass), loving (yes, I know I said that already), affectionate, compassionate and lots of other things that made me fall in love with them. So what's the problem? The problem is, as one, I can't put my hand on my heart and say it's enough. I like to think it is, I would certainly still be here with them and I'd fight for them**.

**[Added after Posting] Thought of an extreme example: I know some of them are probably still in love with at least one other person (if not in love with, would still rather be them than me), It's something I manage not to think about very often and they reassure me that they (some of them) do love me and only want me. But sometimes, like today (Friday 30th September) it is a thought I can't shake. They've said goodbye to both these people but one we are meeting again and I wonder now if my previous thoughts on that were blinded. As nine I can deal with it, justify it almost. But tell me how I deal with this if they are just one?

But we also need to look at this from another perspective. Their attitude towards themselves. Again, because I'm their boyfriend and because I spend a lot of time with them (I'm now living permanently with them) I see more than probably anyone else how they do not refer to themselves as one. Of course they don't. But whilst I am expected to treat them as one, they carry on their lives as nine. They frequently say "one of us does / doesn't / did / didn't etc." They frequently make references to themselves in third person. They frequently 'blame' one another for things. None of which makes it easy to see them as one.

Added to that, and something I've written about previously, is that I do know them all, as individuals. It's because I learnt to tell the differences that I found it so difficult to continue seeing them as one. They sound different, they even look slightly different and they certainly act differently. Some of this you could still associate with one person, we all have times where we say things we wouldn't normally or change the way we act from time to time but nothing on this level; the changes / differences are just too great.

It's just occurred to me, I've never actually asked them why they want me (specifically me) to always see and treat them as one. Maybe there will be another post on this subject. For now though I'm not going to ask, for now I just want to concentrate on my reasons.

Perhaps the answer is simple, perhaps the answer to why I can't see them as one is simply because I know them and I can't undo that. They all have a name. Some love me, some don't. Most like me, one doesn't. Most like me being their boyfriend, some don't. They are not one. No matter how I hash this about they are nine. Nine. At least nine. They are Bethany, Brooke, Cassandra, Catherine, Emmie, Frank, Ivy, Melody and Sam.

You want a singular expression? OK, try this, well, as singular as it gets: They are a fucking bitch.
At times an intolerable bitch. They have reduced me to tears on more than one occasion. They have gone to great lengths to push me away, to try and make me not like them. Some days I wonder why they are going out with me. Some days I feel more love from the fucking cats. Some days I feel like I have to watch everything I say and do. Some days I want... was going to say run away but actually whilst it's a thought I wouldn't actually want to. As I said to them in a comment on their recent blog post, I would rather be with them being a bitch than spend any more time away from them.
Sorry, when I say "days" I do so for ease, what I actually mean and what is more accurate is "some moments of a day that can last for a few hours, but never longer".

But I can forgive them everything because I know they are not just one. I know that the actions of one does not reflect on them all. If one says hateful things to me then I know "who" that is and more important;y I know who it isn't.

And so much more than that, they are nine. They are who they are. They are what they are. And I love them for that. To see them as anything other than who they are, to treat them as anything other than who they are, to love them as anything other than who they are is, in my book, wrong.

They are nine. They may not always like that I see that but that's who they are.

So why do I have the need? Because for me (and again, I stress the point that this is a unique thing for me, in my position, as their boyfriend, as their council sometimes), I can't see them as anything other than who they are, can't love them for anything other than who they and in fact do love them for exactly who they are. I them as the plural single and I love them all as individuals.
...
There is another reason too. One that I push out of my head every time I think of it, or rather every time the thought 'pops' in there. I have an overwhelming fear that one day they won't all be around. I know enough to know that there is no reason why they can't live out their life as they are now. Certainly it is true that neither I nor they want to be 'fixed' or 'cured' and so again, there is no reason why they won't all be around. But cause and effect; if you know enough about DID you'll know they... No, sorry, I don't want to go into this. All that matters is the fear itself whether justified or not.

Perhaps now is the time I discuss this with them because I need to know what their objections are.

Random thought: I spot the switches fairly easily. I don't always know straight away who is 'there' and so I look at them, I stare into their eyes trying to see past them, hoping for some .. sign (?). It makes them very uncomfortable. It's another time they might ask "why does it matter". So why do I do it? If they are really happy then suddenly look as though they are about to burst into tears... or a more extreme example, we're having /just had sex and they sudden'y stop..
Yes, I could still treat them as one, after all, I'm sure lots of people go through this 'change' but if they were one person then it would border manic depression and clearly some underlying issues about sex or intimacy and then I'd be asking questions again. The fact it's because of their DID and that I know this that I can not worry about it. This thought trails off at this point...
...
Over the months I have known them I have gotten to know most of them very well, I've spent time with them individually, usually just as a day-to-day thing, once as a more forced issue (my last few days of being here in August, they and I wanted time with each other one-to-one. Again, I have touched on this before but they are all so individual, so different, that I love them all individually on their own merits(?). And as such I miss them. The week I've been here now I have spent most of my time with three mostly. They asked me why does it matter? It matters because I miss them all. No, I try not to wish for any one in particular, from that point of view it doesn't matter but I do miss them all and when some of them aren't around much I miss them. To say that there's anyone in particular or to name names would be wrong not least of all because it would upset others I never want that. There is NONE (yes, including Brooke) that I would choose not to want to be with (there was an example her but I deleted it because it made reference to one and whilst not a rule breaker, I am determined not to refer to any one other than for clarity) but I admit there are those that I am open;y happier to be with. I really wish I could find the words to adequately say why none of them should get upset by that but I can't. But they (you) shouldn't. It's not about favourites or liking more than others, it's more about (but not limited to) ... [fail]...

Bethany, Brooke, Cassandra, Catherine, Emmie, Frank, Melody, Ivy and Sam I love you all. No, it doesn't matter who is here at any time because I love you all and I love being with you all (some make it harder to be so than others).

Has this post finally put to bed why I see them as nine? No.
Has this post helped me understand my need / desire? No.
Has this post helped you (Frank et al and the readers) understand? Doubtful.

Sometimes I need to write things down, to go through my thoughts and try and make sense of them and work through them, After all this I still haven't remembered that one 'jewel' that turns all this rambling into a two line piece that makes so much more sense.

Frank et al, you are more than one person. I need you to explain to me why it is wrong that I think of you as anything but? I think your fears are mainly with the "why does it matter" and honestly, it doesn't. But there's a difference between it mattering to me who is about and how I see and treat you? To be really... frank... I think it's unfair of you to ask me to see you, treat you, love you as anything other than who you are.

If I don't stop now I never will. So for now... fin

*2 But because they are nine, and I know they are nine, I know why I get neither and so it's ok...
*3 But it's part of their self-therapy as well as the nearest thing they have to a 'social life'.

One last thing, sorry, again to Frank et al: I've added and edited the post a few times since first publishing it, I know you haven't at time of writing this addition read it so it's ok but it means I've had reason to re-read the post. Please know and never doubt that I DO love you, so much and I want to be with you and share / spend my life with you. No matter what I've said in this post I love you. There were times once (maybe still is) and maybe again now that you wonder why I love you so much, why I want to be with you and sometimes you tried to push me away to protect me from you. Please don't wonder, I love you. When you look at me and tell me you love me I know it for sure, I can't read you at all normally but I know you mean those words as I hope you know I mean them when I say them to you. I love you Frankie, I want to be with you. Always.

[copied from the original location http://frank-from-the-outside.blogspot.com/]

Some of the other stuff he's written about us

• 'I Meet Cassandra And It Doesn't Go Well'
• 'A Rough Night, Not The Good Kind'
• 'Who's Here Today'
• 'I Talk to Cassandra'
• 'Nine of Nine'
• 'Meet Catherine, Not Bethany'
• 'Today Was A Good Day'
• 'They Are One'
• 'They Are Nine'
• 'An Emotional Night For Us All'
• 'Brooke Gets The Better Of Me'

'An Emotional Night For Us All' - James' Blog Post

We're going to try to get to writing tonight; James just published a new blog over on his blog site (not this post, however), all about how we booked his tickets back on Monday, because *gulp* he's coming to live with us now...(someone should start praying for him, or, you know, sacrificing a goat or something)...and so we need to catch up to our "relationship" entries...something like that.

We had planned on doing a "State of the Union" after he left three weeks ago, like the one we did about him coming to visit, but we've been stressed with having to plan to move out of the city where we live, and figuring out how to sell our house, because of some very unforeseen circumstances, which we've written about (but currently, we don't feel like back linking, so check out the posts from the last week and a half, or so, to find out why we have to move, and what we plan to do after that). If life ever settled down then maybe we'd get a better glimpse of this "boredom" we hear people talk about so much...but probably not.

Having just gotten off the phone with our tenants, a screaming match was had, to be sure, we need to have some wine and sort ourselves out before we can even think about writing for tonight. Stress stress stress *mumbles to self*.

The following entry is imported from James' blog (link to his blog is at the bottom of the entry), also at the bottom of this entry you will find several other titles of entries, both ones written while he was here staying with us for a month, and since he has returned home. All of the links are internal, so don't be afraid to click them, they'll just take you to other pages within this site.
------------------------------
Friday 9th September 2011

This post is about a video chat I had with Frankie and a response to a Tumblr post they wrote about their day. I'm not linking to their post just yet as I want to write about the time we spent on GTalk Video first.

I had a friend over this evening and they were out drinking with one of theirs (the infamous [Fuck Face]) so our chat was later than normal. It started off very well, they (both Frank et al and the chat sessions) have been stressed recently but today seemed to be a good one, helped by the fact that I had a bottle of wine. We haven't drank together like this since our first ever chat.
But then, very suddenly, their mood changed whilst they were trying to write their blog post for the day. They looked upset, confused, almost angry. I asked them if they were ok, all too aware that this question, asked when they're upset, is often met with some hostility. They tell me they have had a hard day at work having to fight to maintain who was there at work in order for them to get the work done. As the chat goes on they are switching every few minutes. I've never seen them switch this quickly and so often before, I'm not sure who is there or how many are switching. They bounce from being close to tears to being almost happy in the blink of an eye but each time they are upset longer and happier for shorter periods until it seems as though the switching has stopped and they are desperately upset, confused, hurting and angry. They won't talk to me. They may have stopped switching but there is clearly a massive conflict going on in their head. At one point they say they have to go, they'll call me back later. The look on their face was of anger and dislike. So much I think that Brooke is there. There was no tears, no upset, no apologies, nothing but the desire to stop talking to me. In the past this has been to protect me from someone and / or from seeing them upset; I didn't get that impression tonight but I could be wrong, it could well have been just the inner fight that made it seem this way.

They call me back and they are upset. The rest of the chat consists of them writing a tumblr post and chatting to people on twitter. They still don't seem to want to talk to me but the fact they called me back and are comfortable with me just being there is comforting.
They say, as they always do, as we always do, that they want me there as soon as possible. They say they are going to book the flight the flight tonight but the prices have gone up and trying to adjust the days to get the price as low as possible is upsetting them and confusing them. I offer to do the looking and so I do. Then they say they want to leave it till Monday and I can't help but feel a little hurt by that but I understand, it's to much for them tonight. I carry on looking but don't tell them.
I have to say that whilst I say they don't seem to want to talk to me they do repeat that they just want me there with them and of course I want to be there with them too. I hate seeing them like this and not being able to comfort them. They don't always like me comforting them when they are upset but at least I can be there.

They are tired too and one of them wants to go to bed; eat pizza and go to bed but the others are saying to them that it's too early.

I am positive I know who I'm with now but I read their Tumblr post and it is signed by someone else. I'm confused and a little upset again. The person that signed it, Catherine, used to tell me she loves me but tonight she hasn't and in the Tumblr post says "I wish I could love him". I ask them about this but they get more upset and stay quiet.

They won't talk to me and so I break one of my own rules, I read their timeline as I know they're talking to people on twitter. Sometimes it's the only way I know what's going on is to look at their timeline. But there's a good reason I avoid this. And tonight's reminder of what that reason is kicked me the head, stabbed me in the heart and stamped on it. I get up, I leave the room, I take the advice form my counsellor and "release", in this case I air box for a few minutes. When I come back they ask where I have been and ask if they are upsetting me. I say no, it's not them. Maybe not a completely honest answer but a lot of it is my issues, I shouldn't get upset by what they say to others but when I'm here telling them I wish I could put my arms around them and they ignore me then tell someone on twitter they want to be in their arms... well excuse fucking me if I need to kick shit out of something.

But I read their Tumblr post again and one sentence that I read over and over again makes me feel better. I love them so much. I get upset and I allow silly things to hurt me but it's because I'm so far away and I miss them so much.

I've mentioned it too many times without so much as link so here is their Tumblr post for tonight, about tonight. You'll notice something about the sign off.

When we’re from the outside looking in, from the outside.

We’re doing too (to?) much switching, and not getting drunk enough to deal with it, no matter how much we drink; just repeated headaches, and crying, and making our boyfriend upset, in so many ways…logging off of video chat with him, and then logging back on…nobody wishes they were him, at least you shouldn’t; he probably wishes he wasn’t tonight, and he’s the bravest man we know. I wish I loved him, but many of us do, and that’s usually enough…it should be. He is very patient though.

Don’t know what switching means? Read our blogs. Don’t care to to do that? Then don’t, and it doesn’t matter…this Tumblr post is for us, and the people who know us, and do care…we’re sorry we’re not funny tonight, we know we never have to apologize…but sometimes we feel the need. Sometimes we’re a #sadclown…like in our recent painting.

It’s too a hard. This week is too hard, life is too hard.

We/I hope to sleep until Sunday…knowing us, and our inability to sleep (most of us don’t let me sleep as much as I sometimes want), we’ll get 8 whole hours…an unprecedented amount for us (we don’t get to nap unless we’re sick either); I’ll probably just want to lay in bed until we sleep again tomorrow night, but one of us won’t let that happen, if they’re in charge, and I hope they are…I don’t want to be here. Then again we have an appoitnment tomorrow, someone is viewing the house we are selling. I hope we remember…

Sometimes we hate us, as we’re sure others do.

If you’re confused, be unconfused…I’m in no mood to explain. Sorry.
I’ll be going to bed now…so, goodnight, lovely followers…we’ll try to do better tomorrow. Sweet dreams.

~Cassandra (part of Frank et al…for those of you who don’t know me, or the rest of us)

First, I want to reply:
Cassandra, I love you. I know you can't say it back but it's OK. I know you care so much about me, I know you miss me and you want me there with you. I know how much you do for me and for them and I love you for all of that. Nothing will ever make me stop loving you or make me not want to be with you. I have never had doubts about that and I don't now. I certainly don't wish I was someone else, only that I am me, James, your boyfriend, the man that loves you, you all, the man that won't leave you or stop loving you. Stay strong for me Cassandra. Please don't hate yourself. There are horrible people on twitter but what they think really doesn't matter. Many more people love you, all, very much.
To you all: I know how hard things can be for you sometimes, I know how much pain you are in and how much that upsets you, I know you can't always tell me what's going on, I know you don't always know. I know today was so hard for you and you were struggling to cope with it all.
Please don't feel bad for me getting upset. I know you just want me to be with you now, I do too baby, so much and I will be there very very soon. I love you all so much. You are wonderful, amazing and beautiful, to me, to others, for others, and for yourselves. Never doubt it, never let others tell you different (I know that's not an easy thing to do for you).

Back to the post - You see their Tumblr post is signed by Cassandra, they don't know why it was originally signed by Catherine. I have mixed emotions now, I'm happy that my thoughts of Catherine not loving any more may be laid to rest but feel so sad for Cassandra.
The night ended early, they took the laptop to bed and I read them stories till they fell asleep.

I try so hard to be happy for them, they need me to be for me and for them. It's so hard to sit here and see them so upset, in so much pain feeling so helpless. There are things about last night (at the time of writing it's Saturday 10th September) that still bug me. A lot of things I can dismiss, last night was just too personal, too much emotion. I'll get over it. I have to. They love me and I love them and really, what else matters?

[copied from the original location http://frank-from-the-outside.blogspot.com/ - he says he edited since we carried it over to here]

Some of the other stuff he's written about us

• 'I Meet Cassandra And It Doesn't Go Well'
  
• 'A Rough Night, Not The Good Kind'
• 'Who's Here Today'
• ''I Talk to Cassandra''
• ''Nine of Nine''
• ''Meet Catherine, Not Bethany''
• 'Today Was A Good Day'
• 'They Are One'
• 'They Are Nine'