Driving down the busiest street in town yesterday just as rush hour started and I witnessed a large man sucker-punch a petite young lady in the stomach. She collapsed into the snowbank. I can't describe it without remembering it and can't remember it without crying...so forgive typpos please. Oh how ironic...I typo'd the word typo.

I locked up the brakes in the middle of the street and somehow avoided being hit. When I got out, the man decided to run away - apparently I wasn't petite enough. I waited with her until she could breath again and carried her to the car and took her to the emergency room at the local hospital. He broke her ribs. Apparently he was an ex-bf, she didn't want to press charges, was seen, treated and released.

I think I'm struggling with the aftermath as much as her...I would trade broken ribs right now for the emotional onslaught I'm experiencing. I'm feeling horrid even for saying that - the idea that she got hurt so badly and I'm making this about me. I know what my T would tell me...I know it's okay to feel this way, but it's head knowledge not heart knowledge, you know?