Thread by @kimbui

I finally have a moment to breathe, so let me talk a bi about my life with trauma, journalism, and management. I've been managing for a few years now, but I still occasionally report. This week, I stepped in and did ops and work around #Dayton and #ElPaso

The USAToday network had more than 150 people (possibly 200) working on these stories in some way, shape or form. Our newsroom alone sent eight people to help, some of whom are still there. It was a monumental task and everyone took it in stride.

After we sent people to El Paso, I couldn't turn off. The thing about journalistic trauma is that it essentially means you are addicted to adrenaline. Your body has lived so long on it, that it is difficult not to, which is why you see people engaging in other risky behavior.

Then I saw the tweets about Dayton, got out of bed in my PJs and got to work. I have yet to process any of this, including the scare at HQ the other day.

This is the work. We do the work because we love the work, but the work occasionally almost kills us.

Last year, I lost my job not long after Parkland. I went into a deep depression. I worked for years on telling stories that changed minds. I wanted to make a difference. And here was another shooting, nothing changed. And apparently I was so bad at this that I was not employable.

It got bad enough my husband was about to hospitalize me, weeks before our wedding. It was like ALL the pain I had seen in 15 years, all I had recorded and tweeted and witnesses, all of it leaked out. I cried. I lived on the couch. In public, I put on the happiest of faces.

I live with high functioning depression, so you'll rarely *see* me depressed. A sexual assault in my personal life, on top of all the vicarious and real trauma, form a bit of a deadly combo. But I am now OK.

What scares me most? I see myself in so many young journalists.

They are amped to cover the big story. They want to be there. They want to stay, they feel a moral obligation. And they do not stop to process what they saw, they just keep going, because we demand it 24/7. They tweet, take video, write, go on lives, etc.

They will crash.

I tell people to go home a lot. I send puppy GIFs, I do everything I can to be the manager I rarely had. I am so grateful to the bosses I had (Don Murphy, @acarvin) who supported me and would force me to take time.

I agree with @jtemplejrnalist, there are limits to journalism.

Not offering answers, but pointing this out so you understand why someone was short with you, or withdrawn. Maybe you'll see yourself better.

Take care of each other. Be kind. Be @juliachanb who called me the other night and made me laugh uncontrollably about nothing at all.

I think this is less a time to act, than a time to pause, take stock and look at the forest, not the trees. Maybe little stories won't change anyone, but big stories will.

Reach out if you need help. But also feel empowered to pull someone aside and ask them if they're OK.

We can only do the big stories with each other, and if we can truly see ourselves, admit the weight we carry and try to lift it *together*.

A kitten gif for everyone to end this thread.

A quick addendum. I am a part of many amazing communities that have supported me. Thank you to @ONA (Happy birthday ONA!) the JOC Slack, #50WomenCan and The Cohort ladies. Consider being a part of any or all of these.