The Eternally Sad Girl

by , under It's me., Memories Past

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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