Sevenish Months Later…


Sevenish months… yeah, this blog hasn’t been a top priority for me.  I have been busy in all aspects of my life:   school, work and at home.  I have finished 2 semesters at my college and have also been “conditionally” accepted into the nursing program.  The “conditionally” label, which will hopefully be removed, after I receive my final grades for the semester.  I have successfully completed two semesters of intro to French, but Chemistry, however… I’m trying to not dwell on it and concentrate on getting prepared for the next semester.  I have 3 months to figure out if my mother has my immunization record, or have to go through a series of boosters to start clinical in the fall.  There’s a lot of stuff to do before the semester starts in the fall!

I went to an introduction/orientation seminar last Wednesday discussing how to register for classes and the items needed for the following school year and I’m excited, yet nervous to begin this journey.  It’s surreal that this is happening.  I never thought I would get the opportunity to go back to school and if I did, it wouldn’t be something like nursing or at the least in the medical field.  I have always felt that this was my “calling” as I find medicine and human anatomy very alluring.  I love hospitals and I have never really shied from blood and guts.  I remember being a young child, maybe around 10 or so, and finding the top of a half-eaten mouse on the floor left by one of my family’s cats.  I pulled out some thumb tacks and had some kind of probe from one of my chemistry/science kits and I attempted to dissect what was left of that mouse.  I remember the gray, purplish-pink color of the small intestine, the muddy brown color of the liver and the bloody stump of what was left the lower spine.  Yes, I was one of those kids who questioned how life works.  I never ever killed anything like a serial killer or anything.  I could not harm a living soul, minus like mosquitoes – fuck those bloodsucking bastards.  I did, however, have to cull one of my rabbits when I was in ninth grade, but I did not perform a necropsy on said rabbit though.  The reason for the culling was because the rabbit was seriously sick, and I didn’t find out until much later that it would have died anyway, it had some neurological problem.  I even begged my mother to do it for me and she refused as “It’s your school project and grade.”  I stick by the Hippocratic oath as much as possible.

I could talk about school nonstop as I have found with going to therapy and scrubbing away the layers of problems that I have carried with me through the years that I truly have a profound love for learning.  I don’t know if I mentioned it above, but I have met some pretty amazing people at school.  I’ve owned the teacher’s pet part of myself too, instead of being embarrassed by it when I was a kid.  It’s fun and full of positivity.  I’m sure that next semester at nursing school will be very much the same and I already have one person who is starting the program with me that’s a friend.  It’s definitely going to be a fun ride.

Other than that, I’ve had talks with my Mother and my stepfather about the abuse and how it has affected me throughout the years.  It has been liberating to have them be aware and confront the damage that they had a part in.  So, for the past few months, a lot of the anger and sadness within those memories have been absent.  Or maybe it’s just been because I’ve been so preoccupied with studying chemistry that I haven’t had the mind to pay attention to it.  Therapy has been progressing forward, but I’m not sure how it’s going to fit in my schedule for next semester.  I will be talking to Vero about it on Wednesday.

Home… that’s the big issue right now.  I’ve gone through a lot of changes within the last few years and while I’m not ‘fixed’, I’m becoming more and more aware of myself as a person, which has caused me to tap into this new found strength that I never knew I possessed.  All this has started to begin to now affect my relationship with my husband.  It’s scary to think about as he’s been by my side through a bunch of shit for the last 20 years.  I’ve put a lot of the problems of our relationship behind me because I didn’t think I was good enough for anyone, let alone myself.  As I write this now, I’m not sure if our relationship will survive.  There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to think about it, as I will need stability and security for the next few years.  My plan isn’t to quit my current job (I have invested in this as well) or contemplate a separation.  It is sitting on the back burner, and to be honest if shit happens to go sour, then so be it.  I have survived so long and through so many things, I will prevail as I always do.

Anyway, for now, I have to head off to therapy, and who knows what bullshit will be on the roads.  I don’t want to put this on standby again as I will have forgotten what I had already talked about.  😀

One Month Later…


So, hi.  It’s been a month or more since I may have posted.  I know it was in September, but yeah.  The reason why for no blog posts?  Too busy.  Work is finally starting to slow down, maybe not for the time I’m physically at work, but the number of hours has gone from like around 40, to 30, and by next week, around 27.  I’m a little scared about the decrease, but I have been battling a lot of stress from work as of recently.  It’s hard to balance all three important things in my life:   family, work, and school.  I eventually want to make the transition in school being number two, as I really want to get out of the foodservice industry.  It’s always a back-up, but as for most of my life, medicine is my passion.  I still love to find out how and why things work, and pathology will always have a special place in my heart.

I have other ambitions as well and would love to get back into escaping into my fantasy world again.  I feel as if I’m on the cusp of that again, but just need to make the time for it.  I was going to attempt nanowrimo again for the umpteenth time, but between studying French and writing lab reports/essays, I don’t think I have the mental capacity to force some creative writing in there.  Hell, it took me at least a month to make another blog post.

Now, I had mentioned that I would be talking about my childhood abuse, but it isn’t on the top of my mind anymore as of right now.  I’m enjoying school and learning is always a passion of mine.  I have formed a nice little group in my science class with some wonderful women who are a bit nerdy not unlike myself.  They have definitely made my science class a lot easier, and fun.  Learning a new language is a priority as well, and I need all my brain cells to make those new connections to retain that information.  I’m proud to say that I’m holding down an A in both classes, and it makes me feel really good about myself.

With all the awesomeness and all the hard work I’m putting in, there still is some negativity floating around my brain.  Again, I’m feeling a bit on the brink of losing control.  I’ve been fighting suicidal thoughts, along with other thoughts about how I fucked up my life.  These have been following me around for many, many years.  I usually don’t think about these things, or they’re just a fleeting thought, but now, at least once a day, I start thinking suicidal thoughts again.  I hate it.  It hurts to think that and just feels as if it’s getting more intense.

Other thoughts besides that is like, is it possible to achieve a mulligan in life?  Can’t I just change, and live my life over again with different decisions?  Could I live with my Dad instead of growing up in my mother’s house?  Would I know my cousins a lot better than I do?  Would I have achieved my goal easier professionally?  Would I be happier?  Would I live longer?  Would I be a better person?  Could I save my Dad’s life?

Yeah, I know that I shouldnt’t of these things.  They’re hard to push out right now.  Will I let my thoughts win?  No.  Am I aware of my accomplishments and how well my life is going right now?  Yes.  Quite aware.  Then, why do I feel this way?  Because I want to be the best as if being the best of everything is going to make me feel better about my overall shitty life.  I didn’t want to make some of the decisions I had made, or I was too scared to do them.  I’ve learned to push through a lot of those uncomfortable moments so I can make it though, no problem.  I am a strong woman, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I’m a scared sad person on the inside.

Alright, I could spend more time rambling on and on… but I really want to get some sleep.  I’m hoping I can find the ambition tomorrow to start my homework and lab report for the next week.  Right now, I’m just not feeling it.

Don’t worry about me.  All these feelings should pass soon. 🙂

The Eternally Sad Girl


Hi.  My name is Morgan, and I have some things to talk about.  I’ve done a couple of things on social media, and tried to generate a few friends from internet land, but have gotten discouraged about the lack of attention I would receive from either photo or blogging.

So, why am I starting again?  Well, this time, I’m not starting for the sake of looking for “friends”, or people to talk to because I’m lonely.  I did that up until a couple of years ago.  I still find myself trying to do the same thing… adding people on facebook because I had a lovely conversation with them, and hoping they would continue to understand me and love me for me.  Yeah, not a healthy thing.  I tried to conform to what I thought was me, or to someone else’s whims to get them to “like” me.

I’m going to attempt to try blogging again, not for attention this time, but as a therapeutic way to try to understand and release some built up tension, anger, guilt, and many emotions that I have suppressed for most of my life.  I will cuss/swear (whatever) and definitely share some really sad stories of my past.

I have been going to therapy regularly for the past nearly two years and with my inquisitive mind, I have dug through a lot of things and started to truly understand myself as a person.  It has been enlightening, and I am very happy with my progress.  It’s a long way from being finished, as my issues are very much like a jawbreaker, and each layer brings new flavors long lost and forgotten.

As I said earlier, there’s going to be some hard stuff shared here, and I just want to put this out here that I’m not looking for attention of advice whatsoever.  This is my attempt to use this medium as a therapeutic thing to put my story out there.  Feel free to comment if you feel the need to, but I’m not asking for you to try and “help” me.  That’s why I see a professional.  She’s amazing and has helped me see through the fog in my mind.  As for consoling, I am not looking for that either.  No sympathy, no words of wisdom, no taking away from my own reality to try and make me “feel” better.  I will eventually, maybe, feel better on my own, but we are all very much different people with different backgrounds.

I just want to tell my story, and that’s what I’m going to do.  There might be some unrelated posts throughout the blog, as I do like to partake in some creative writing, and working on feeling more comfortable with writing prose, I want to make some of my ideas public.  I hide a lot of things from everyone.  I’m afraid of being judged by everyone.

I do suffer from Social Anxiety Disorder, along with some depression and definitely suicidal thoughts.  There are days where I feel like a totally worthless piece of crap, even though there’s a good part of me that doesn’t believe that.  I have worked hard on keeping each foot moving forward and keeping my head held high.  Even though keeping each foot taking a step forward, I feel as at any time I could trip and fall flat on my face.

So, here we go.  Going to be all out here, all vulnerable and very raw.    I had also written this blog over a week ago, and completely forgot what emotions I was feeling at the time to continue on.  Hopefully, I won’t make a habit this, but I make no promises.  School and work can take a lot of time away from me right now.

I’m just going to add this here since I started this on another platform…

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As you can tell from this photo (the eyes give it away, especially), sadness has always been a part of me. I think I was 12 or 13 in this photo.I don’t remember much about this, other than that my Dad wanted to do an old time photo, and to be honest, I didn’t really want to do it. Fun Fact! : My Dad loved westerns, and I was actually named after Wyatt Earp’s little brother, Morgan. He’s a real guy: know it was probably chalked up to being a rebellious teenager, but no. I felt as if I was being replaced by his girlfriend as his number one gal. I didn’t want to share my Dad with anyone, and I couldn’t find the way to communicate that. I always felt that his girlfriend hated me (he took the fall for me once, when I accidentally broke one of her figurines, as I was so distraught that she was going to hate me forever), but I don’t think that was ever the case. I was hurting, and didn’t have anyone to talk to try and understand what I was feeling. And, I couldn’t communicate how I was feeling anyway.There’s no horrifying story to share, or anything in particular, besides the fact of the long sadness in my heart. All the feelings and such I had with my Dad have been sad, but just because he was the greatest man I knew at the time, and my hero. I was /am sad that I never got to spend enough time with him. I’m sure in these confessions that I’m going to try to do, I’ll talk about all the ‘aww’ things he did for me. Despite his own trials and I’m sure, mental illness (amongst other things), he was a really awesome guy. He doesn’t play a big part in my story, as there was never any abuse when I was with him. He showed me how to be compassionate and how to be a parent without being a totalitarian. Most of my memories of him are super sweet, and through me playing this facade as a super strong daughter, or when I was throwing a fit (I was a kid, after all!), he still loved me no matter what. I wish I had the opportunity to thank him, and tell him all the secrets I was carrying with me at home. #daddysgirl #oldtimephoto #confessionsofasurvivor #tbt #sadness

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