Part 1

I find it bothersome when others self diagnose Anxiety. Really, it's none of my business. It shouldn't bother me so much, but, I can't let it go. They talk about it as such a temporary thing. It's used out of context so much that it is not taken seriously anymore. I feel like this is a growing issue and it needs to be addressed: Hi, I'm Megahn. Yes, It's spelled like Mega-HAN.. but I assure you, it sounds the same as Megan. If you have the time for a semi-boring, chaotic story...look no further. I have some interesting things I'd like to share. 

The 3-3-3 Rule:
- Name 3 things you see around you
- Name 3 sounds you hear
- Move 3 parts of your body


"LINE 1, 2, 3, 4.." 
Most of mine and my siblings childhood, we lived in the "Projects" (assisted living for those who don't know). We were happy, normal kids. We played football in the "circle" We played in the rain, explored the woods nearby, climbed trees, went "dumpster diving, played freeze tag, we were always in outside. One of my earliest (and favorite childhood) memories stems from the Projects, our friends and my dad. It was an awesome day when we got to venture up to "Spider Lake" for the day. Our dad would stand there and yell "LINE" and my brothers and I would line up in an instant. We'd march around the Projects repeating our father's chants. " I don't know what I've been told..." "HUT 2.. 3... 4..." All of the other kids would run up to ask permission to join our line. My dad was real cool about it, too. He'd take anyone as long as their parents were okay with it. We'd circle around the big circle once or twice to make sure we didn't miss anyone who wanted to go. We'd continue on, chanting away. ALL of us. It was positively the greatest days of my life. Growing up, my dad told me and my sister that "can't" is not a word. He would correct us and tell us that we can and will. For as long as I could remember, life was easy at one point. I would wake up and not worry about a thing. Our dad instilled so much confidence in us at a young age. I was so confident. I was happy. Brave. What happened? 
From a young age, my father took my opinion seriously. My parents weren't together for long after I was born. So he would date other women, obviously. He'd ask me what I thought about each one, and I'd give him my honest opinion. Most didn't stick around long. If I didn't care for them, he would cut them off.  I was 3 years old. Here's why; her name is Mary. Mary was married to my mothers brother. My Uncle Chuck. She's the mother of my two cousins Karlee and Zach. Somehow, my father and Mary ended up in a relationship after the divorce between her and my uncle. That relationship changed my life as I knew it. Not for the reasons that you would think. 
"Yeah, Megahn's okay this morning, She can't talk right now, she's eating a bowl of cereal." Mary was on the phone with my mother. Little did my mom know at the time, I was. I was quite literally eating a bowl of cereal. Face down, held in the bowl. I broke free just enough t have my 3 year old face smeared into the mess that was made of the table of frootloops and milk.. trying to yell out for my mom who was on the line. She hung up the phone and let me free. "I want my daddy" I said, crying..gasping for air. I remember being so confused. Scared. I had no idea why she was being so mean to me. "Your daDDy is never coming back!" She would tell me. My dad would come back, She'd threaten me and told me not to tell. Later that night when my dad was gone for work, Mary forced me out of bed. In front of my two cousins she had a hold of my arm, squeezing hard. She held open the back door into the night and told me I was going outside to sleep in the dog house. I don't know why they didn't try to help me. This abuse continued for the duration of the relationship. My mom couldn't understand why I'd scream and cry that I didn't want to go or I'd throw myself if Mary was the one who watched my brothers and I that day. I remember being pushed down the stairs at one point. You see, my dad wasn't around all that much during that time. He was working and Mary was pregnant with my little brother Jason. My mom worked as well. Hence, why Mary watched my brothers and I. It wasn't until Jason was born and I was hospitalized with Pneumonia that someone noticed that something was wrong. Someone bought me a beautiful glass angel while I was in the hospital. A nurse caught Mary saying mean things  to me, and watched her pocket my Angel. They got suspicious and asked me some questions. The truth came out. Soon after that my dad got his own apartment and left her. My mom protected me. Mary just hid it so well, that it went unnoticed. Turns out, she was jealous of the relationship that my dad and I had.

***Look for Part 2 in my blog.