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Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality: Episode 14 “Stupid Piece Of Shit”

In this weeks episode, Samantha and USER 147 have a real breakdown about what they wanted from one another, and from themselves. If you like this podcast, and want to hear next weeks (super important and really great) episode TODAY, go subscribe to my Patreon for as low as a buck a month!

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Just a sidenote; until this coming Monday, I am running a special sale on my latest novella “GIRLS ARE BAD AT MATH” over at my Payhip for 30% off! I really need some money for bills and such, so if you like me, my work or are just feeling generous, hop on over and pick it up! Thanks! (COUPON: XQVL9APECJ)

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Conversating With Walls

When I was about 14, I was having a lot of trouble with school and at home, mostly emotionally. At school, I was being bullied, harassed and made fun of on a day to day basis, sometimes to the point where often, I would ask to be excused if I was put into a group project to use the restroom, and then never come back until class let out. Anywhere I could find a way to slither off and be alone, I took it, and my parents were sadly of no help. They didn’t know what to do, and frankly I’m unsure if my stepfather cared whatsoever, so they put me into therapy a multitude of times, on and off different medications, and felt they were totally at a loss.

During this time, I became exceedingly attached to a doll I had bought at a store. It was a small felt doll with blonde hair and a black dress, and she was attached to a keychain. She was maybe 5 dollars, but she was attached to my backpack, my jeans, basically anywhere I could clip her, she was and she went everywhere with me as a result. So, when I started confiding in this doll, it worried my parents. The thing is, I never once thought she was a real person or could really hear me, but when your parents won’t talk to you, and you have no friends, and you don’t trust your therapist…a doll quickly becomes the one thing that you can talk to. It won’t talk back to you. It won’t reject you. It just listens. I just needed someone to listen to me.

But, this wasn’t just attached to the doll. I started talking to myself everywhere, especially in my bedroom, even when people were home. I just began having whole conversations back and forth with myself, because it allowed me to get things out of my head, to analyze them and calm myself down. I talked to walls. I talked to my dog. I talked to strangers on the internet. I talked to anything that listened. As I said, when nobody will talk to you, and the ones who will you don’t trust because they hurt you, you will take any chance to talk to anything. So, I’d sit in my driveway at night sometimes and relay my entire day to this doll, or sit in my room after school some days when I was home alone and talk to the walls about my current feelings regarding my home life at that moment.

Let’s be honest, a house knows you better than anyone else. It sees you in your most primal, your most honest, your most…you. It sees everything you do, it hears everything you say, it’s always there for you and keeps you safe. I talk to my houses. I talk to my walls. Sometimes I would toss a tennis ball against our garage door and talk openly to the garage door about how sad I was feeling that day.

These days though, I have a girlfriend I can confide in and of course I have social media but I rarely use it for anything other than linking things I like or create. The internet is an introverts best friend. But, because of these things, I don’t really talk to myself as much anymore. I’d like to. Sometimes I do, like in the shower or on the rare chance I find myself alone. There’s a thing called Touch Deprivation where you can suffer from not being physically touched enough either through hugs or some other form of touch. Obviously this doesn’t effect everyone, but I’d like to think there’s a verbal aspect that’s like that. Verbal Deprivation, where if you do not get to talk — either to yourself or someone else in some way — enough, then you start to feel very bad. I don’t know why there wouldn’t be something like that. Perhaps this is what I was suffering from, who knows. All I know is that when nobody else would talk to me, I would just talk to myself.

I still talk to myself. I still talk to my dog. I still talk to the walls.

But, it’s nice that they’re no longer my only option. I sometimes think though, of all the things everywhere I’ve lived has heard. I think of all the secrets, the sob stories, the yelling that I have left behind. Sometimes I miss the places I live in more than I miss people I knew (probably because the people hurt me, and the places didn’t). When my grandmother died, we had to sell her house. My grandfather moved in with my aunt and uncle, and everyone got together to sell her house and clean it out, and all I cared about was going around and documenting the place. I was the only one who took pictures for keepsakes. I shot the garden, the backroom, the guest room, their bedroom, the living room, the bathroom. To this day, even without the photos, I can still recall every square inch of that house, and not just because I spent so much time there but because it was the one place I had in my life that surrounded me with positive feelings, and love and happiness. It was the one place that heard someone say they love me and mean it, the one place to see me be hugged by people who loved me; my grandparents.

A while after the house was sold, I debated going by it and seeing the place, but in the end, I decided against it. Much like seeing someone you haven’t seen in ages, or keeping a loved ones memory the way you want, I didn’t want to see how it’d changed. What it’d become. Besides, it wasn’t my place anymore to talk to. Someone else was talking to it now. Was making new memories and conversations with it. I don’t know where I’ll eventually feel most comfortable talking to nothing again in the future, but I know I will one day, and it’ll be okay. Speak. Speak to yourself, to nothing, to everything and everyone.

God if these walls could talk.

[This is a repost from a Medium article I wrote.]

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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Close To Monsters #40

CTM09

This weeks comic is brought to you by the intimidating factor that even your magic 8 ball is done with your shit.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon! Donate To Our GoFundMe!

Just a sidenote; until this coming Monday, I am running a special sale on my latest novella “GIRLS ARE BAD AT MATH” over at my Payhip for 30% off! I really need some money for bills and such, so if you like me, my work or are just feeling generous, hop on over and pick it up! Thanks! (COUPON: XQVL9APECJ)

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, the new season of my podcast “Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality”, or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Happy Comic #7

Happy Comic 07

I got sick over the past week, so of course I wanted to make passive aggressive faux positive comics!

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon! Donate To Our GoFundMe!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Life Is Being Chased By Wasps

When I was about 7, I was learning to ride my bike in the apartment complex my mother and I were living in at the time. I was finally starting to get the hang of it enough to be doing it on my own, so I was riding around in the parking area of the complex one afternoon when I lost control and skidded. My bike hit a long drain pipe, the old metal ones that hang down the side of the building, you know? Anyway, I was pretty happy that I wasn’t hurt and my bike was okay and that I didn’t damage anything badly, until I heard the sound of wasps. Apparently, these wasps had made a nest inside of this pipe and were now pissed as all get out and wanted revenge, so out they came, like a tornado of anger, and, being the 7 year old timid girl I was, I of course took the fuck off and left my bike there for someone else to bring back.

Since that time, it’s become abundantly clear to me that that’s what my life is; just a series of getting chased by wasps.

This pattern would repeat itself again and again, but not with actual wasps. I would wind up spending a good majority of my youth running away from things that wanted to hurt me. Mean girls, mean boys, mean teachers, all intent on making my life much more painful than it needed to be. Since then, I’ve run away from everything. Everything in life has come to resemble wasps. Forming relationships? Scary wasps. Fixing myself? Wasps that’ve been maced in the face. Responsibility? Wasps that you once said you’d invite somewhere and then instead took their hive and stuck it in a paint shaker for 14 hours nonstop while blaring the worst muzak you could find at top volume. And then when they finally were let out, dazed and confused, you punched each one right in their stupid face, just for kicks.

When you go through life seeing everything not only as a challenge, but a challenge that can utterly destroy you, it makes you not to want to try and overcome any of them at all, for fear of the pain they’ll bestow upon you. So, by running away that day, I taught myself it was okay to run away from everything. I’m not saying that a 7 year old girl is any match for a gutter drain full of angry wasps — I mean I’m tough and all but I was only 7 — but it stuck the idea inside my head that if something is that scary, that overwhelmingly terrifying, then it’s totally justifiable to turn the other cheek and run the hell away, and that’s what I’ve been doing for the last 20 years.

When the people I was working with in film school left me hanging, despite committing to finished a dedicated project we’d spent two years working on, with only a few more days of shooting to complete? I just swore off ever working with anyone ever again.

When the one therapist I actually managed to sort of like and build something with decided to move out of state and practice elsewhere, despite knowing my trust and abandonment issues? I just swore off ever going back to therapy altogether. (For the record, just as a hint of true irony, this therapist is also the one who diagnosed me with “Avoidant Personality Disorder”, and then moved out of state, so, take from that what you will).

When the first girl I ever decided to talk to and tell her I had a crush on her decided to be egregiously rude regarding my feelings, and all because I happened to be a girl who liked her? I decided it wasn’t worth it to ever try and find love and that I was better off alone.

Since these times, I work with my girlfriend on my projects, editing things side by side and we’ve been together nearly 3 years now, and over the last few years I have done a ton of personal introspection and analysis, trying to fix the things I don’t like about me. So okay, maybe these moments were made of wasps at the time, and I ran the other way, but I’m coming back now, and that’s the thing I want to talk about.

The thing about wasps, about any sort of creature that attacks you, is that there’s a way to overcome it. I’m not in any way condoning the killing of innocent wasps, but if you need to defend yourself, then by all means please do and that’s where I am now. I defended myself from failure by running the other way and now I’m ready to call in the exterminator and get these fucking wasps taken care of once and for all. The colony must collapse, the enemy must die and only I must prevail.

When you’re fighting a war against yourself, and that’s what this really is, a war against my perception of lifes challenges towards me, eventually you come to a stalemate and realize that no matter what happens, you’re either going to be the loser or the victor, because you’re fighting yourself, and you have to decide which side you want to be on. Do you wanna continue to let wasps run your entire life? Do you wanna continue to let wasps terrify you at every turn? Or, do you wanna grab that bug spray, get outside and destroy that nest that’s kept you from ever moving forward?

When I was 7 I was chased by some wasps and it changed my perception of myself.

I’m 29 now, and to be honest, my perception isn’t much better, but I’m finally willing to challenge it, and if that ain’t progress then what the hell is.

[This is a repost from a Medium article I wrote]

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon! Donate To Our GoFundMe!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, the new season of my podcast “Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality”, or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality: Episode 13 “Log Date”

In this weeks episode, USER 147 has left Samantha with a host of tapes to listen to, and they bring back a bit more than just memories as Sam tries to put her reasoning for transplanting into context.

I’m well aware this should’ve come out on Monday, but I got very sick over the weekend, so, sorry? Anyway, yay new shows. If you like this episode, this project or just other things I do, and you wanna hear next weeks episode TODAY, then I suggest mosying on over to my Patreon, where, for a buck a month, you get next weeks episodes a whole 7 days early, and for 3 bucks a month, you even get credited for supporting it! I hope you guys like this. Enjoy your time in therapy.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon! Donate To Our GoFundMe!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, my podcast network “The Feel Bad Network” or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!

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Close To Monsters #39

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This weeks comic is brought to you by the fact that the only lasting thing you inherit from your parents is their pain.

Buy My Book!  Support Me Via Patreon! Donate To Our GoFundMe!

I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I make, like my depressing webcomic “In Space, No One Can Hear You Cry”, the new season of my podcast “Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality”, or my writing over at Medium. You can also find some published work for sale over at my Payhip or support my work at my Patreon! Anything helps & is appreciated, thanks!