Someone Out There Loves You (Adopted by Frank Iero)

93

FRANK

During the time The Black Parade was being recorded, the entire band found staying in the Paramour Mansion one of the most frightening, unnerving, and difficult experiences of our lives. We were tested in ways which didn't seem real, a lot of dark things surfaced, and it was emotionally our darkest period. It nearly killed us.

It brought out the worst in us, but I suppose that happens when there are all sorts of pressures, both internal and external, from ourselves and each other and record labels and fans and critics and haters, to deliver the best possible record that could be written. The pressures alone couldn't be ignored, but staying in that haunted mansion was the sickly sweet icing on the cake that went into breaking us. There are only so many sleepless nights and unexplained doors slamming in your face that you can take before you start losing it.

In order to get through it, we designated one room to be the place where we threw all our feelings out into the open with nothing but brutal honesty. It was more than wearing your heart on your sleeve; it was dissecting it in front of an audience with a giant spotlight on it so everyone could see.

There was something about that room that made us continue to dig deeper into ourselves, finding all the things we didn't like about who we were and laying them out in the open - and sometimes, what we didn't like about each other.

Occasionally it slipped into discourse, arguing about the way we were doing things. Some people taking too long to record their parts or not dedicating enough of themselves to it. It got personal. Ugly. We knew how much we loved each other, but when you're already on the edge, the tiniest of annoyances can make you see nothing but red.

That was where The Heavy Room came in.

We couldn't leave until we had talked it out, no matter how long it took. That was the rule. Once whatever had been building up was put out into the open, we walked away from it, and it wouldn't be brought up again unless we found ourselves back in that room. Every single time we walked out of there, no matter how heated or upsetting or uncomfortable it was listening to everyone's horrible thoughts, we were closer and better off for it. Every time. Which was why we kept going back.

While it was one thing to express your own problems, that being cathartic in itself, everyone else's were laid bare in front of you, and because of that, nothing could be ignored. You sat there listening to the horrible thoughts, the frustrations, and the darkest feelings of those you loved more than anything. It was a reminder that we were all struggling and we needed each other.

It made you put aside your own shit to help them, but because everyone was doing that, it became this massive, tightly knit group of support. A camaraderie. The Heavy Room might have drained our souls, but without it, we wouldn't have made it out alive.

Everyone needs a place to feel safe, a place to duck under the waves and continue down to the sand of the ocean floor where the sunlight can no longer reach. To be suspended in black water but without fear of attack. Only then can you see - but not with your eyes. Your mind is what does the work. And if you do it right, the picture is clearer than anything your eyes could ever detect.

Recreating The Heavy Room wasn't something I was wanting to do with Lexa. That would involve me also delving into the darkest parts of my being and bringing them up to the surface, and I never thought it was right for parents to dump their shit on their kid.

Being the kind of person to wear my heart on my sleeve, I was very open with Lexa about most things. I didn't like a whole lot of secrecy between us; we were best when we were transparent. So I would tell her about my thoughts and feelings without shame, and I would keep her informed about the things which concerned her and the things which didn't. She had a right to know about those things and I had no reason to hide them, but also, as her parent, it was my job to protect her from what she didn't need to know. The things which would do more harm than good if she knew. Like how it made me feel knowing what she had been through and what she had done to herself. Like how I felt like I had failed her time and time again. Like how I wished she could just be happy, even though I knew it was far easier said than done. She was struggling- she didn't need to know about the toll helping her was taking on me. I saved those conversations for the guys instead.