simply put

I'm supposed to be writing about my thoughts and feelings about the incident so I can process them.  It's hard to do that when even thinking back to that night causes my heart to pound and my hands to shake.  Actually, I can tell that I start to dissociate when I think about it and I know it's my brain trying to protect me.  It feels weird and is, to me, a fascinating experience to be able to recognize what is happening as it's happening.  

I might just take this time to introduce myself to you, reader/journal/infinite void.  

My name is Megan.  I have made it to my thirties despite so many moments I wanted to just give up.  I have too many cats (6) and a big, silly dog.  They're the epitome of chaos and so full of personality and love.  I've been with my boyfriend since October 2019 and he is my best friend.  I have a degree in Psychology and Criminal Justice and I have spent many years in residential direct care and crisis work.  I enjoy learning and engaging in creative arts and really love to spend time crocheting.  I love most music and am an avid reader when my brain wants to cooperate.  

I really have a passion for helping people, though.  My ability to do that has been all, but eliminated recently.  That's what a lot of this is going to be about.  I experienced a real trauma and instead of being supported and taken care of by my company, I was tossed aside as apparently damaged goods.  That was the straw that broke the camel's back for my mental health.  

I have so much to unpack and process.  I'm going to try to use this as a tool to accomplish that.  

xoxo, 

megan <3