The Musings of Morgan Rie

Someone recently asked me if I've ever been in love. "Twice," I responded. I lied. It had been three times, but I don't like talking or even thinking, about the second time. [sitting down to write this, I realize I still can't talk about it.] Coming back to this weeks later, I've decided that that second time doesn't count. I was manipulated, and I can't say much else. I don't want to anyway. I am only coming back to this post to talk about my most recent journey towards love. I've always been the one to say it first, and recently, it's been refreshing to hear my partner say it to me. I was relieved, I had wanted to say it for a while, but was afraid it was too soon, I didn't want to scare them off. Hell, I was a little scared myself of how fast I had fallen for them, but it sure felt amazing. I'm a hopeless romantic, and also a hopeless R omantic. Maybe I'm just in love with being in love, but either way, I'm happy with my ...

I've reached a dead-end in my manuscript. It's taking all my self-control to not delete everything from embarrassment. I spoke about this a bit in my last  post , fear is my biggest weakness. The beauty  (sarcasm) of being a former "gifted kid" is the intense fear of failure. Growing up, I excelled at everything I tried, and I did so immediately . My self-esteem was built on this success, this ability to be exceptional at anything I wanted. Unfortunately, once I began high school, and was able to take classes that would actually challenge me, I broke down. I couldn’t cope with my failures. (Getting a C on one math chapter.) Though I have made some progress in coping with this academically, I still struggle to maintain hobbies. I have abandoned Instagram accounts for drawing, collage journaling, and my dog. I am currently in the middle of seven different books, and it’s been months since I’ve moved the bookmarks in most of them. My bedroom is full of embroidery, callig...

In case you haven't read about my recent medical issues regarding my metabolic levels, you can  here . Yesterday, I was finally able to get in for a heart ultrasound. Everything came back perfectly normal, which was both frustrating and a relief. The low potassium levels I've been experiencing haven't done any lasting damage to my heart, but we still have no idea why I'm still having intense chest pain and palpitations. I almost wish that something small did show up just so I could get some answers. I feel awful saying that, but I'm just so frustrated with the lack of options for me right now and want this to be solved. Luckily, there's still hope that they can figure something out from the heart monitor I'll wear for 24 hours. Unfortunately, I'm not able to get one until February, so we'll see if the issue has solved itself by then and I'm just wasting money ( ah, the American healthcare system, don't you love it? ). The fatigue has been rou...

Having a mysterious illness is so exhausting, both from the fatigue caused by the illness, and the burnout from all the medical appointments and emergency visits. The emergency visits are especially awful because every twelve hours is a new on-call doctor. I've been to the ER three times in the last two weeks, and I've never had a repeat doctor. I have to recount my entire medical history each time, and explain all the testing and results from the last time I was in. The three doctors I've seen in these visits have all focused on different aspects of the issues I'm having as well, the one tonight completely ignoring my main concern. BELIEVE PATIENTS! I shouldn't have to say that, but just because you've never seen someone show symptoms of low potassium or magnesium before it is extreme, doesn't mean it doesn't happen! I can tell when my potassium is low just by the way I feel! My doctor tonight simply shrugged off my intense chest pain, lightheadedness, ...

 2021 was the most unexpected year of my life, but I could not be more grateful that it happened, every last bit of it. It began with me getting Covid in January, most likely from one of the toddlers I worked with at my awful daycare job. Looking back, I thought that was the sickest I would ever be. Ah, the naivete of January. The year had only just begun. In late March, I found out I was pregnant. The morning sickness hit me almost immediately, and I was throwing up every single day. For most people, this only lasts for the first 12 weeks or so. I was still sick at 18 weeks. I missed the last two months of my senior year. I called in sick to work almost every day until I was eventually fired (the day I was going to put in my notice, of course. My boss beat me to it, oh well). I was able to graduate, though I was fighting morning sickness as I walked across the stage and received my diploma. No scenes were made, thankfully. In mid-June, I finally acknowledged that I was pregnant, a...