Daily Rants and Raves

Miss Mary Sunshine aka Morbid Megan

This blog is about me and my journey, so I thought I’d share some of me with you.

That being said, for those that know me, I am an outgoing goofy kinda gal.  Always cracking a joke about my weight.  Most of you don’t know that I have suffered from depression since I was a teenager.  I am not talking teen angst depression, I am talking attempted suicide depression. Yes, I tried to kill myself when I was 14.  It was a stupid thing to do, I am forever ashamed.  I am thankful I was unsuccessful.  I am forever sorry for what the experience did to my family, especially my parents.  I remember being terrified in the hospital as they pumped my stomach.  It didn’t help that they put another person in my room who had to be restrained and was freaking out.  The doctor told me had I had waited to go to the hospital, I would of died.  Now, is that true? Probably not, but it sure as hell scared the shit out of me.

Pile in the depression with my self esteem and I am a therapists dream.  I had a therapist, he was great, and my prize for being fucked up was a stop for truffles at Sanborns Candies on the way home from the session.   You ever notice that all therapists have the same way of talking? That drove me insane, not mine, thank God.  That being said, I probably should go back.

Born from my depression was one of my greatest passions, writing poetry.  Hence the name Morbid Megan.  My friend Amanda’s mom named me that 🙂  I love to write, though I find I come up with my best stuff when I am having a bad day.  For the life of me, I can’t write anything happy or cheery.  And honestly if I am not riddled with depression, I can’t get anything out.   I love the release that writing gives.  Most of what I write is about me, sometimes about things I know of, and sometimes shit I randomly think of.   When I was in the 8th grade I wrote a poem about a kid who goes beserk killing his family just leaving his little sister.  Yes, I know its fucked up, but I won the Write Away Contest ( after I submitted a letter that I was not crazy or suicidal).  For me, to know that people appreciated my work was an amazing feeling.  Its fascinating when something that is organicly you is received well.

So, I continue to write, just for me, to get it all out.  Here are a couple if you are interested :


She feels the darkness roll in like a fog on the water when the day breaks
An inexplicable feeling
But not worth the deaf ears the words should fall on
Like sand blowing from her lips as the words are said
So she shall stew in quite solitude
Screaming on the inside, the darkness trying to crawl through
Clawing and tearing
As if dear life could be sustained here, more like her own purgatory
There are no reasons , no thoughts, no concerns, no feelings
It just is
A living breathing entitiy that she shall never be able to shake
Demons that wither away at her very being
True undeniable happiness seems so lost
And maybe its not this deep dark depression that takes her over
Maybe she is just lost
Searching for something she will never find and can never have
She screams in the middle of the night
She screams at the top of her lungs
She screams in silence in her dreams
She screams like she did when she first begun
Searching and questing for something
A purpose
A meaning
A place in this world
To make a difference in someone’s life
To witness something amazing
To BE someone Amazing
Maybe she is experiencing a mid life crisis
Maybe she’s not
Maybe she’s being dramatic
Maybe she’s not

Crackling as I walk
I feel the pieces crush beneath my feet
Aimlessly wandering
A lonesome soul on a desperate search
To find the things she left behind, things she lost track of
Mainly herself and her abandoned dreams
This perception they hold is so wrong, but its the only thing she’s given, so what do you expect them to think?
She is just a silly girl with silly dreams
Wishes and wants that never pan out
There have been blessings along this road she wanders
Wonderful wonderful blessings
This dark veil shields her eyes to the beauty and keeps her drenched  in the dark
She can open her eyes, she can open her heart
She can put out an APB, she can put a face on a milk carton
But she has yet to find herself after all these years
And what happens when she loathes the “ found” self just as much as the lost one?
Feeling like such a failure
Such a horrible horrible failure
A feeling no matter how great the success, she cannot shake

So there you have it – some depressing poetry courtesy of me. Hope you enjoyed.

Back to the point – I am journeying to find myself.  I was only 17 when I was told of my impending motherhood and only 18 when I had to become an adult in more ways than 1 .  The more I think of it, how could I have myself figured out?  I know that I am a wife and a mother to 3 amazing kids.  But I don’t know WHO I am.   My identity was a mom and it was not about me before it ever was, does that make sense?  Don’t get me wrong – MOM is my greatest and proudest accomplishment .

I KNOW I am fat.

I KNOW I was skinny.

I KNOW I am committed to losing weight and getting fit.

I KNOW I have found the right program for me.

I KNOW I need to eat better.

I KNOW this current state is not what I AM and is not me.



Its my time!!! and its about time!


Keep up the swim and we will get there folks 🙂




3 thoughts on “Miss Mary Sunshine aka Morbid Megan”

  1. Megan, everything happens for a reason, so that’s why your attempt failed. You were meant to have the three kids, and you were meant to marry Chad, and you are meant to find yourself. As Rupaul says, if you can’t love yourself how in the hell you gonna love somebody else. Love yourself like we all love you and you will find your path to happiness! No amount of weight loss will teach yourself that, so time to do some mental workouts and get in a good place so you are whole in whatever body shape you are in. I love you.

    1. Love you too Rach! I gotta do some mental work outs – its all part of the journey. But I think I am in a better spot now more than ever to get in that better mind frame.

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