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Coping With Tonal Shifts In Reality: Season 2 Episode 15 “Mr. Turtle”

In this important episode, Samantha finally reveals her history with Lester Turtle, her therapist, and the man who helped her transplant.

If you liked this podcast and want to hear more like it or help me produce more content, please consider supporting me via Patreon, where, for as low as a buck a month, you’ll get access to new episodes a whole week early! Thank you!

I also have a new short fiction collecting coming out December 14th at my Payhip, and if you sign up for the $5 tier on my Patreon before then, you will get a 50% off coupon for my latest released novel, “Milly & The Ghost“, and a unique print along with it! That’s two books for the price of one, and a unique print! Consider it, yeah?

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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I’ve done, like my 2015 novel “You Ruined Everything”, 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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Chloe Empties Her Closet

technologies From the time she was five years old, the closet in Chloe Gallaghers bedroom had always been an object of fierce terror to her.

See, ever since she could remember, Chloe Gallagher had been convinced that there was a monster living inside of her closet. Now, cleaning it out the weekend before she was meant to leave for college, she couldn’t believe how wrong she’d been. Of course most children have wild, active imaginations, and a lot of children are scared of things like this; monsters under the bed, monster in the closet, a general fear of the dark and the unknown. But Chloe was no longer a child. She was almost twenty now and she was preparing to go to medical school. Standing there on that early summer evening, the late sun pouring past her blinds and splashing across her bedroom floor as she stared into the closet she was once so deathly afraid of, Chloe couldn’t help but laugh at the whole thing.

See, Chloe also wasn’t like most kids because a lot of kids don’t grow out of that monster phase so quickly. Chloe did. Sure, she was scared, but she quickly found the closet she feared of housing a monster to be a safe haven from the rest of the home that housed an actual monster; her father. She could recall so many times once she was eight years old that she and her mother had to hide in closets, specifically Chloes closet because it had such a solid lock on it, just to escape the awful man they were trapped with. Eventually, as Chloe grew older, she realized the closet could be a much better place to spend her time. It was a rather small walk in, but she made it into a cozy space. She built a little pillow fort in there, cozy with blankets and books and snacks, and she’d spend all her free time alone in that closet.

When she came to realize she was in love with her friend Charlotte, whom she’d met the previous summer during college tours her school was making Juniors and Seniors take, she didn’t want to come out of the closet. She found it to be at odds with how she usually viewed the closet to begin with; a warm, safe little space just for her. Over the next year, she accepted that the two had nothing to do with one another, and came out to her mother, who continued to give her all the love in the world. See, Chloe and her mother, they were two peas in a pod. Her mother, Enid, had been brave enough to finally stand up to her father when he attacked one night, and killed him in self defense. Because of this bravery, Chloe admired her mom, and realized if she was brave, she too could do anything, no matter what someone else told her. So Chloe coming out to her mom just re-instilled that sense of bravery Enid knew they both had to do the things they knew they had to do in order to be happy.

Chloe stepped back, hands on her hips, as she looked into the closet once more. Now empty of boxes and clothes and her little hideaway, she could see it was just that and nothing more. A closet. Just a subroom attached to a bedroom. But to her, oh it was so much more, so so much more. The thought of even using a new closet somewhere different, some random college campus somewhere…it scared her. But she knew that better things were coming, newer things were coming. From one place to another, one school to another, one closet to another.

It was, after all, just a room.

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I’m Maggie. If you like this thing I made, you might like some other things I’ve done, like my 2015 novel “You Ruined Everything”, 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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Milly & The Ghost: A Novel

https://payhip.com/b/1rui

A novel I wrote in 2016 is finally available, just in time for Halloween! Just kidding, it’s not spooky. It WILL make you cry though.

(2016) Milly Barnes is 11 years old and just lost her mother. After she tries hurting herself, her father becomes worried for her mental health, but she quickly finds solace in a new friend at school named Velma, a young artist named Chad, and a ghost living in her house named Milton, who says he just wants to help her. MILLY & THE GHOST is a story about losing what was the most important thing in your life, and doing whatever is necessary to keep moving forward, even if it means believing in something others might not. (53k words)
Anyway, there ya go. I’d be VERY appreciative if you bought/read this book. I’m also running a special over at my Patreon right now where if you sign up for the $5 dollar and up tier, you will receive a 10% off coupon for the book, plus other goodies! Anyway, enjoy!

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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They Used To Be Nice

I was cleaning some papers from my time in school recently and come across two different e-mails my mother and stepfather sent to a woman who was dealing with my cases at school regarding my mental health and whatnot. The first comes from my stepfather, and was sent in 2005. It reads:

As you know per our phone conversation last week, both my wife and I were very disappointed with the results from our daughters IEP meeting on Monday, at [REDACTED], at which you attended. But honestly, we were just as disappointed in your own services. At our initial meeting, you led us to believe that you knew how to take care of the issues that we were concerned with, You stated that you have dealt with many school districts before, in vases that may not have been exactly the same but were similar to ours. You said there shouldn’t be any problems finding the correct educational laws that would apply, and we should be able to come to a happy resolution with [REDACTED]. You gained our trust.

Then, my wife dropped some papers with [REDACTED], case manager at the school, and ended up having an impromptu meeting concerning our daughter. Also attending was [REDACTED], our daughters counselor, and a school psychologist who has worked with our daughter. My wife informed them that we had an advocate, and their response was that an advocate would not know the laws pertaining to the school or the school system and that it was a waste of money on our part. My wife spoke to you that day, informed you of what they said, and you told her not to worry, that you would be studying the law books that very day.

We spoke the next week, at which time you told us you had found the correct law that applies to our case, and everything would be taken care of at the following IEP meeting. Once the meeting started, you began by reading the code section that you had found. [REDACTED], the program specialist, informed us that the school was a Title 1 school and because of this, to the best of my understanding, it received federal and state grants, and thus the code section you found did not entirely apply at this time, but that the school system was “working on being able to comply in the next couple years”. You dropped it by that point. The rest of the meeting was just a battle of wills because the school officials, my wife, my daughter and I. Where was this supposed advocate that we hired to speak in our place?

Upon our phone conversation last week, you informed me that you had not known that the school was a Title 1 school, and even apologized for it. We trusted you to do your research, not only in the educational laws, but also in the school district, especially after their warning that you not know the laws that pertained to this school. We trusted that you would know what questions to ask, and be totally prepared for this meeting. Instead, you dropped the ball and left us fending for ourselves. Yes, we came up with a plan for our daughter, for home schooling, but that was on the table before you were ever hired.

Not only did you betray our trust, but you caused us to betray our childs trust in us. After we initially met, we told her everything would be taken care of, and not to worry. We told her that again after you informed us that you had found the correct law for a case like this. Now we have all let her down. I find it irresponsible to accept a clients trust in issues like this that are so important to a childs welfare, if you are not able to follow through. We will be notifying [REDACTED] to inform them that we do not think you should be trusted to be an educational advocate, We paid you 500 dollars. I don’t know how, in good conscious, you can ask us to pay another 316 dollars. I feel like I should be asking you for our money back.”

Then, I found my mothers email to the same woman, which reads:

I have been so angry since my daughters IEP, I have not been able to call you to tell you these things person to person. I am appalled at your performance and your technique as our advocate.

First of all, you PROMISED us that you found these laws to accomplish the goal we were after, but you did not do the homework necessary to know that [REDACTED] is a Title 1 school, and that these laws do not actually apply. My disappointment is not my main concern. I am a big girl and can deal with it. My daughter, on the other hand, had so much faith in you and you let her down. She is now so worried that she will not graduate and go to college. She is even more sure now that she will quit school than she has ever been before. I cannot even mention your name around her or talk about it at all.

The extra anxiety that you have added to her life by dropping the ball at this meeting and letting [REDACTED] walk all over you, has been a  major source of stress in our life. I could have handled the meeting myself as I have done in the past.

I don’t know how you can feel you advocated for my daughter when you did nothing more than talk big game and then accomplish none of what you said you would. If this is how you do business, then I feel sorry for anyone you have been with, or may be, hired by in the future. And if you think it is right to charge us more money to have been at this meeting when you accomplished absolutely nothing, then you surely have no concern for these children or their families. I’m not sure how much I want to do to prevent you from doing the same thing to anyone else in the future, but don’t be surprised if you hear that I have pursued that avenue further. And if you feel that we still owe you that additional balance, you can bill us again.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. This makes my parents sound fantastic. Look how involved they were! Look at their anger, how much they care! But there’s two things I took away from this.

The first one is notice how they talk about how my anxiety from it brings them stress. Notice how they both bring up the additional fee she charged them. Yes, she certainly didn’t do her job, and they should’ve been mad, but they were mad for THEM, not for ME, alright? They were mad that now I was even worse, and thus putting more stress on them because of it, because they only ever cared about themselves, and they were mad that they had to pay even more money because of it. Had they genuinely cared about me, they wouldn’t have said either of those things in the e-mail, especially if they knew I might have my hands on them down the road.

The second thing I took away from this is something I’ve been leaning for a while now, and that is that just because an abuser does something seemingly good doesn’t erase all the pain they caused you. Recovery is hard, and it’s hard to not feel like you’re simply blaming others for your own problems instead of yourself. But no, this erases and changes absolutely nothing. And just because they may, in some small way, felt bad for me, they were more thinking of themselves. They were embarrassed that the school was right, they were mad they wasted money and were pissed that this was going to continue causing them stress. They never used to be nice. They just, at a certain point, stopped pretending to be, especially since at a certain point, I wasn’t a “kid” anymore and so they had no reason to pretend to care, and instead just blame me for not getting my shit together, despite all the evidence I had multiple learning disorders and mental health problems. I guess it’s easier to just be an abusive piece of shit instead of putting on this facade that you’re something else.

You are not responsible for your parents behavior, and just because they either pretended to, or did genuinely every now and then, care about you doesn’t make all the terrible things they did go away or become less terrible. That’s been the single hardest thing for me to accept in my road to recovery. I keep thinking every day that things are really bad, and things aren’t great, it’s true, but god, after looking at some of these papers and remembering what my life was like back then…

…I’m way more of a whole person away from them than I EVER was with them.

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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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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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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!