Thursday, July 28, 2016

A Friendship's Conscious End

Back in March, I made a Facebook post about possibly ending a friendship because of what I was observing in someone I thought I knew better.  It boiled down to that person having shown some of their true colors and my struggle with what to do about it.  My friends were wonderful, giving me oodles of insightful advice.  At that point in time, I decided to have a conversation with the person in question which resulted in us remaining friends. Albeit myself truthfully still having plenty of doubts about it all.

Today, the proverbial straw hit the already weighed-down camel’s back.

Another of this person’s posts popped up on my feed, and I went down the rabbit hole of reading their wall again.  I even commented on said post, asking for clarification as to why they said what they said.  All that happened was that they confirmed my suspicions that, if I were a praying kind of person, I’d have been praying weren’t correct.

So I decided to finally end it once and for all.

This is the note I wrote to the person:

“Dear [Ex-Friend]:

I am a stronger and more confident person (literally and figuratively) than I was when I walked into [your life] many years ago.   You taught me a lot, honed my skills, and therefore made me feel safer walking around the world as a woman.  We also had many laughs and good times together, both inside and outside of [the place we saw each other most].  For all of this, I am thankful.

More recently, however, you and I have been discovering that we view a lot of things quite differently.  We talked about some of those issues and even sort of solved a few.  But today was the last straw.  I just can’t do it anymore.

The recent political and social climate in America, and your many Facebook postings and comments surrounding it, have made it clear to me that we just don’t see eye to eye on enough topics that I wish to continue our association.  What I see more often than not now is disrespectfulness, ignorance, and hate.  It hurts my heart.

I’m not writing this letter to change your mind or debate about anything.  Everyone is entitled to their thoughts, opinions, and feelings.  I am just telling you mine.  Maybe you care.  Maybe you don’t.  It really doesn’t matter.  Either way, I wanted to give you the courtesy of explaining why I am choosing to end our friendship today.  I owe you at least that much.

The bottom line is that I would not feel safe in the kind of world you currently espouse, and I’m tired of trying to justify to myself why I remain connected to you.  It saddens me greatly to say this, but I am done.

I wish you well.

-Robin”

*************

I hit Send.

*************

This storytellers collective is about moments of impact, and this was the moment of impact I created and experienced today.  It left me feeling relieved and liberated and sad and disappointed, all at the same time.

So while I can certainly appreciate whatever jokes and memes and satire and sarcasm that people may propagate about current events, even if what they say is false -- I wish so much that if they actually, truly, and honestly held beliefs and/or opinions that are staunchly opposed to mine, they would be able to have conversations in which they are willing to politely and intelligently discuss these issues and within which they’d at least be willing to have their minds changed.  But if they aren’t capable of or interested in doing that, they can go fuck right the fuck off, because I am

All.

Set.

Look, it’s my Facebook account.  My wall.  My feed.  My own personal social media experience.  I will make of it what I want to make of it.  I don’t have to tolerate hatred, ignorance, disrespect, or anything else I don’t like.  Not in my house, not on my page.  I am well aware of all the horrible things going on in the world these days, and am not hiding from nor ignoring any of it; but if I want to have a happy little echo chamber over there in Facebook-land, I am entitled to that and there’s nothing wrong with choosing to create one so long as I don’t do so in my life as a whole.

I posted all of this, with additional detail about the particular social and political views I personally support, and said that if someone is upset or offended because of who I called out, or if they wish to align themselves with that person, that’s fine.  I get it.  I really do.  Because I believe that everyone is entitled to their own choices for whatever reasons they see fit as long as they aren’t actively or purposefully hurting others.  If it caused someone to unfriend me in favor of that other person, while I will be sad to someone go, I can’t say that I am sorry to have made them make that decision.  Because it tells me something relevant about them that I didn’t know before.

And the garden shall continue weeding itself.





Robin Donoghue

The sly and trusty Robinator is a square peg – 
not fitting easily into any single category, living not just inside and outside of the box, 
but all mixed up in a pile of them. She’s a walking contradiction  (in the good way) – 
having a wide, diverse range of interests, not being defined by any one thing, 
and willing to try pretty much anything at least once. 

Born and raised in Somerville, this lifelong athlete, foodie who almost always ends up with 
pasta sauce on her (especially when it’s white) shirt, mother of two cats, free-spirited hippie at heart whose socks never match, is socially awkward, yet a flirt, too.  She enjoys photography, traveling, generally being creative, and practically requires having pockets.  When she grows up, she wants to get an RV and be a nomad with her dear husband, or live on a self-sustaining intentional community with all the best people she knows and loves.


Friday, June 10, 2016

Love. Peace. Hate. War.


Love

Peace

Hate

War

My blood

My familiarity

Rock N Roll

Heaven and Angel

Visions

Of growth

And wisdom

Sounds

Of happiness

And laughter

Healing the sadness

And sobbing

Unwanted interference

Bawling words

Of worry

Protecting the path

Of unsound doom

Anger shielding

Possible truth

Storming off

Vexed

With doubt

And a whirlwind

Of lucidity

From outspoken truth

You are

My strength

Admiration

Weakness

And flare

Together our lives

Are intertwined

With fucking emotion

Sweetness

Beauty

Shatter

And ugly

We each salute

For our love

And peace

And wait

By the wings

For hate

And war

United

We stand

Without prospect

Of fracture

We are a tribe

Of essence

We are our family




Dawn Piecham

Dawn is a native of Somerville, Mass. and has earned a bachelors degree in nursing and is currently working on her masters degree in nursing. A natural born caregiver, Dawn is a loving wife and mother of three boys with another on the way! She is proud to be able to say that she simply adores her family. While all of this is very apparent to those who know her, Dawn has been hiding the fact that she is an incredibly talented writer from us for years! We are so happy to welcome Dawn to our ever-growing Storytellers family. 

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

The Pickup Artist's Apprentice

Holy crap, she’s hot. She would never give you her number. 

No, remember what Dane said. It’s not rejection, it is redirection. C’mon Jake. You can do it. You didn’t pay $1500 to not listen to him. Make eye contact, be confident. 

Ugh, confident. Bullshit. She won’t like you. Loser. No Jake, get back on track. You can do this. Breathe deep…Okay. Now approach, make eye contact, compliment her and go from there. Simple.

Oh god, not simple. She’s looking back at you. Dude, you’re such a loser. She’s gonna say no. You can’t do it…you already started walking toward her idiot…it’s now or never.

“Hey girlie. I don’t know you, but I just had to tell you that you are simply adorable. I’m Jake. What’s your name?”

Holy crap, she’s smiling. You can do this.

“I’m Alexa. Do you say that to every girl you hit on?”

“Just the ones that look like you,”

Oh my god, Jake, are you shitting me? That’s the best you could do? You blew it. Good job."

“Ha! You’re hilarious Jake. Want to go grab a drink?”

“How could I say no you Alexa?”

You did it big guy. Thank you Dane.


By: Melissa Vieira - co-founder & weirdo

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

"Friends"

I may be in the minority here, and I guess I'm okay with that. I know deep down that I'm a good person. Am I perfect? Far from it. I have my flaws. I can be an asshole at certain times, I can be standoffish at others, but if I consider you a friend of mine, there isn't much I wouldn't do for you. There's one issue that I have come to realize over time, and it's becoming more and more evident as I age:


I'm an afterthought in most people's minds. 


Now, I'm not looking for pity. Not in the least. Hell, by all accounts you probably won't even be able to tell who wrote this. However, if reading this gets you to take that "friend" who's an afterthought, reach out to them and go to a sporting event, movie, dinner or even make a good old phone conversation, then this is worth every second I spent writing it. 


It's not like I'm sitting at home waiting for someone to call me. I have a life that consumes much of my time. I am successful in my chosen career, I have a family with children that keep me busy, and other things that keep my attention. But with what very little free time that I may have, it seems like whenever I try to make plans, the excuse train comes barreling by.


Now granted, I understand that sometimes last minute plans cannot happen, but the law of averages would make you believe that if you called ten people to do something in a single night, at least ONE of them would say yes. You can guess how successful my stats were: 


One out of ten.



I conducted a little test for myself over the last week just to see if I was overthinking this whole thing. In the time I didn't reach out to anyone other than family or business matters and I don't recall one person reaching out. Not via phone, text, Facebook, Twitter. Nothing. Not. A. Soul. 


What am I supposed to think? Is this Karma for all the shitty things that I've done in the past? Some kind of retribution from a higher power? 


I don't really know. For all I know, I just have a really shitty core group of people in my life, yet they still talk to each other. Either way, it's a dejecting feeling knowing that the people you hold in close regard clearly don't care enough about you to make the slightest of efforts. One of few things can come of this. I accept the fact that I'm obviously not the person I thought I was: 


The kind, caring, funny person that everyone wants to be around.



I find new people to surround myself with who actually give a shit about me. I could do nothing, still be the guy reaches out to everyone, getting shot down every time I lay out an idea to do something, but I will always accept an offer when it's given to me.  Or could it all change? Who knows?


I'm sure some of you that read this would know me if I actually put my name in the submission and think:


"Oh Jesus, I had no idea so and so felt like this."



But then, I would always think that anytime someone DID call, it was out of pity and that's worse than not calling at all. 


At the end of the day, I know for a fact that I'll be okay. I've overcome a lot worse than this, believe me! This post may seem sad to some and a cry for help to others, but I just wanted to vent, say my piece and get everyone to think about how they act in their lives. 


I truly do love my life, I have a ton of things to be grateful for, so do not take this for anything more than me letting my thoughts and feelings flow into tangible words. My kids make me happy, my significant other makes me happy and I truly do enjoy spending every second that I am able to with them. 


They are my heart and my world! 



But it would be nice to go see that new action movie, comedy show or U.F.C. fight with a buddy once in a while. I'd say I'll hold my breath, but if the experiment I ran is any indication, I'd need CPR before that happened.


 Anonymous



Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Sleepless Nights

I dream on sleepless nights

That we can reunite in the ether

But neither you nor I were believers

So I won't see you in the light

When all that's left is darkness

It's hard to keep on doing right

You either are defeated

Or weakened by the fight

My achievements may be meager

But I reached them when I tried

And it seems to be a feat

Just to be the one alive

With my freedom

Not deceased

Or doing time

Waiting for release dates

Being waked

Or cremated

I can't conceive how I'm survived

You see it in my features

With crows feet beside my eyes

The creases getting deeper

The Grim Reaper's drawing lines

These teens will keep repeating

What they've seen unless

We teach them not to die

But I can't reach them

Even though I've seen

The horrifying hardship

That is life

You can call me crazy

But I know more people

Incarcerated

Than live the college life

So you cannot debate me

While I walk through graveyards

Like a high school hallway

I hear them softly

Call my name

Telling me to stay here

Turn them into martyrs

So it all was not in vain

We all too often are forgotten

By the progress being made

All of the hypocrisy

When our problems

Aren't acknowledged

Largely because of our race

As if the color of my skin

Will admonish me of pain

I wonder where's my privilege

While drop outs hang in the park

And the cops are in my face

When kids were robbing

Banks and pharmacies

Oxycontin was a plague

It never made the news

Never on the front page

So I made a promise

That I wouldn't just walk away

I'd harness what I harbor

In my heart

Be honest with my hate

Pay homage to the fallen

Honor them

By not falling for the bait.










Mark McLaughlin a.k.a MC Diatribe


 Having grown up in the blue collar city of Somerville, Mass., Mark became involved in community activism after witnessing many of his peers succumb to the cycle of substance abuse, violence, and crime. When drug abuse claimed more and more of his loved ones and gentrification began displacing his friends and neighbors, Mark channeled his own personal pain and the struggles of his community through activism, art, giving speeches and writing poetry. 

Under the stage name MC Diatribe, Mark is also a spoken word and rap performer who uses the medium to spread his message even farther. His music is available to download here.

Follow him on Twitter here.

Like him on Facebook here.

Check him out on YouTube here.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Skeleton Face Clock

Staring in the face of time

Watching moments go by with

Casualty, joy, and sadness.

Gazing at the caliber

Knowing this powerhouse is the force

That determines my destiny.

I stare at the skeleton face watch

Drawn not at the complex design

But of the minutes

Hand ticking during its rotation

Capturing my reminders of

Missed moments and late effects.

The glare from the clear glass face has me wonder

What happens when time stops?

Is that the end of our fate, our time?

Why can't we rewind the minutes, hours, and days

To change our wrongful path?

Why doesn't risk come with a loud alarm?

Tears embedded in my eyes

Slowly dropping one by one

Throat clenching

Pressured heart aching

With a threaded pulse.

I look up and ask myself

Why is life revolved around time?

Why can't life reverse itself when the timing is wrong?

I place my watch down and walk away

With a deep inhale

And perplexed exhale

As this moment drifts away with others

By the wings that hold my fate.





Dawn Piecham

Dawn is a native of Somerville, Mass. and has earned a bachelors degree in nursing and is currently working on her masters degree in nursing. A natural born caregiver, Dawn is a loving wife and mother of three boys with another on the way! She is proud to be able to say that she simply adores her family. While all of this is very apparent to those who know her, Dawn has been hiding the fact that she is an incredibly talented writer from us for years! We are so happy to welcome Dawn to our ever-growing Storytellers family. 

Friday, April 1, 2016

For Our Writers & Readers

Hi Everyone!

I have been feeling compelled to post something on Storytellers for a long time for the simple reason that I miss it.

I miss the supportive atmosphere that surrounded our writers, all of us commenting, liking and sharing each other's work along with our readers, but that brings me to what I want to write about.

I get all my really good ideas in the shower, and if you ask another writer, I bet they will say the same. Well last night, I stepped out of the shower with absolutely no ideas to the point where when I noticed the Q-Tips out of the corner of my eye, at first I thought, Hmmm...should I write a horror story where the cotton swabs awaken in the middle of the night, grow legs and stab people in their eardrums? No, no I shouldn't. 

And that completely dumb internal dialog led me to think about our other writers. See, part of my problem right now is that I am in between getting one novel ready to be released and about a quarter of the way through writing a second one.

But I know when I first started working on my own blog after years of not writing, coming up with ways to get my ideas on "paper" seemed not only impossible, but also absolutely terrifying.

There were times when I felt like I was going to puke after hitting the publish button. There were times when I thought that everyone would hate what I wrote, and maybe some did. In fact, I know some did. I have a very dark sense of humor and strong opinions. Not everyone is going to like that, and that's okay. I know lots of others did like it. It's all a part of the game.

Thing is, the more you do it, the more confident you get, the less of a fuck you give, and I can promise you that your writing abilities will only improve.

Please know that not everyone who really does like your work is going to "like" it on social media.

To our readers, please remember that a simple like, share or comment on a post you genuinely did enjoy give our writers, especially our newcomers, one of the best feelings in the world. It's kind of like the street performer whose hat you throw some change into. If our writer's words entertained you for just a little while, it's not a high price to pay.

So to our current and future writers, if you have a story in you, let it out on here and I promise that you will be supported by our Collective.


To our many readers who do all of the above, we all thank you so, so much!


Much love,
Melissa




Monday, March 21, 2016

Ladybug - Part 7: What Is Worse?

In this life, we all have that one person you would do anything for. You would do anything to protect them, anything to take their pain and sorrows away, anything (even in a sense) die for them. 

My person is "R" and I have a confession to make: For the last 7 months or so; I have been carrying around a secret. A secret that has left me broken, anxious, frightened, angry, sad and the list goes on and on. I will start from the beginning. I remember this day like it was yesterday. R called me on a sunny September afternoon. I thought she was calling to iron out our plans for the evening as we had tickets to see one of Boston's sports teams play in town. In the nail salon (turning away so I wouldn't get the evil eye from the tech doing my nails) I answered her call. However; what I heard on the other line was something I never thought I would hear in a million years: 

"Ladybug, I relapsed. I have been using for months. I just can't lie anymore. I can't do this anymore." 

I tried to get words out but I just couldn't get my brain to process what I just heard. The only words I managed to mutter were "I will text you. I am in the nail salon." Of course, I had my suspicions and actually had come out and asked "R" if she was using. As someone who sees addiction day in and day out at work and someone who went through it herself; the symptoms are usually there. It just depends on whether or not your heart can see them; not your eyes. So, that day started a journey for "R" and myself. One that has left me changed forever. In the beginning, I was one of the only people that knew. Each time I was called to pick up the body of a heroin overdose at work; I worried that at any point in time that could be her. I was terrified when my phone rang and when it didn't. 

When you see someone you love go through what you put your own loved ones through; your perspective changes. I don't think any addict - regardless of where they are in their recovery; regardless of how many times they have taken a personal inventory or how many times they have gone through the 12 steps ever truly knows what it is like to be on the other side. Before Thanksgiving, R went into her first detox. Before she went, though, she asked a question. I don't know if it was directly at me or if it was just her 'talking out loud' but it has stuck with me even as I sit here, months later. She said out loud: "What is worse...being the addict or being on the other end of the addiction?" Without hesitation, I answered her truthfully and honestly: "There isn't even a comparison between the two". 

See, when you are in the middle of a run and there is no care for yourself, you reach a place of not caring about anything or anyone. Of course, it isn't really "you" that doesn't care. It is your diseased mind, body, and soul. That is why addiction is so devastating. You lose yourself along with your will to want to get better. The addiction takes your self-worth away from you. It's not a slow process, either. It's a 'one minute you give a fuck about your life: yourself, family, and friends. Then, the next minute you don't." Of course, I had no idea that "R's" relapse would, in the end, lead me on my own personal journey of revisiting my own addiction but...that is for another post at another time.

To be continued... Signed, Ladybug



Anonymous Submission



Please read the complete "Ladybug" series by clicking on the following: