After spending many years as a Critical Care Registered Nurse, I’ve come to appreciate how deeply healthcare is rooted in safety, risk management, and emergency response. In the ICU and helicopter as a flight nurse, every decision matters, safety isn’t just a priority; it’s a way of life. That same mindset translates seamlessly into the world of Environmental Health and Safety (EHS).
Working in high-stress, high-stakes environments taught me to assess risk quickly, manage critical incidents, and coordinate cross-functional teams under pressure. Those same skills are essential in keeping workplaces, facilities, and communities safe from hazards, whether they’re chemical, environmental, or operational.
My degree in Disaster Science and Emergency Management further strengthened my understanding of how to prevent, prepare for, respond to, and recover from emergencies, the core principles of any effective safety management system. Combined with my OSHA 30, Certified Environmental Specialist, and multiple FEMA certifications, I’ve built a solid foundation in compliance, emergency response planning, and hazard mitigation.
For me, EHS and emergency management is the same, it’s a natural progression. The commitment to safety, preparedness, and protecting lives remains exactly the same. Only the environment has changed.
In life and in our careers, each of us carries a story. Some chapters are filled with success and recognition, while others may hold challenges, mistakes, or misunderstandings that linger longer than we wish. Too often, those difficult chapters become the lens through which others judge us, even when years of growth, resilience, and learning have rewritten the person we are today.
I believe one of the greatest acts of leadership is allowing people the space to move forward. Not to define them solely by a past moment, but instead to recognize their journey of growth, integrity, and determination. Everyone deserves the opportunity to be measured by their present actions and future potential, not only by experiences that may have unfairly overshadowed them.
Background checks and due diligence are important, especially in safety-critical professions. But employers should also look at the complete person, their skills, their character, their proven record of responsibility, and their vision for the future. People are more than a single event in their history. They are defined by how they rise, how they grow, and how they continue to serve others despite adversity.
My hope is that more organizations embrace this perspective. That they see the value in people who have walked difficult paths and emerged stronger, more committed, and more compassionate. Because it is often those very individuals who bring the deepest sense of responsibility, integrity, and resilience to their work. Moving forward is not just about second chances; it is about recognizing the full humanity in one another.
In both life and emergency management, one truth stands out: if we’re not prepared, we can’t succeed. That’s not just a motto it’s a mindset that applies to everything from natural disasters to personal challenges.
Preparedness is more than a checklist. It’s the ability to anticipate, adapt, and act when the unexpected happens. And in today’s world, where emergencies can escalate in seconds, being prepared is not a luxury, it’s a responsibility.
As someone deeply passionate about crisis response and public safety, I believe that preparedness should be part of everyone’s daily mindset. Whether it’s a hurricane, a power outage, or a workplace incident, having a plan and the tools to respond can mean the difference between chaos and control, fear and confidence.
I’ve seen firsthand how proper preparation saves lives, protects communities, and builds resilience. And I’ve also seen what happens when preparedness is overlooked it leaves people vulnerable, scrambling, and unsure of what to do next.
My mission is simple: to empower others to be ready. Whether it’s through training, planning, or simply starting the conversation, I want everyone in my surroundings, at home, at work, and in the community to feel equipped and confident in the face of any critical situation.
Because if we stay ready, we don’t have to get ready.
There’s a side of emergency management that we don’t talk about enough. It’s not in the training manuals or the planning meetings. It’s not listed in our certifications or spelled out in the after-action reports. But it’s always there quietly present in every decision we make. I’m talking about the emotional and mental weight we carry when our job is to prepare for, respond to, and recover from the unimaginable.
Before I stepped into emergency management, I spent most of my life as a critical care nurse. I cared for trauma patients, held hands in final moments, and led teams through the chaos of life-or-death situations. Death was never a stranger to me, but it was always personal. Always human. And it always reminded me that every second mattered.
That experience shaped me and it followed me into my work as an emergency management professional. But this role is different. Now I am not just caring for individuals in crisis. I am helping entire communities plan for the worst. I am trying to prevent loss. I am trying to build systems that protect people before tragedy strikes.
But even the best planning can’t stop every storm. And when disaster does come, whether it’s natural or manmade, we are the ones people look to for answers. For structure. For calm. That kind of responsibility requires more than knowledge and coordination. It requires presence. It requires mental preparedness.
And that’s the part we don’t talk about enough.
We spend our days preparing for events most people don’t want to think about mass casualties, widespread destruction, loss on a scale that feels unbearable. But we do it because we believe that preparation saves lives. We do it because we care deeply, even if we don’t always show it.
Being mentally prepared means understanding that witnessing destruction and loss can affect us, even when we think we’re used to it. It means checking in with ourselves and with our teams. It means knowing that stress and burnout are not signs of weakness, they are signs that we need support, too.
This job asks us to be calm in chaos. To hold it together when everything else is falling apart. But we’re human. And it’s okay to acknowledge that this work is hard. In fact, it’s necessary.
For me, mental preparedness is about more than being strong. It’s about being real. It’s about recognizing that while we may not be able to stop every disaster, we can prepare ourselves to lead through it with clarity, compassion, and resilience.
So to my fellow emergency management professionals: Take care of yourself. Take care of each other. Be present. Be honest about the toll this work can take. And remember, your ability to stay grounded and human in the midst of crisis is what makes you good at what you do.
That quiet strength is what holds everything together when the world feels like it’s falling apart.
In a world that feels increasingly unpredictable, one thing remains constant: the need to be prepared.
Whether it is a natural disaster, a technological failure, or a human-caused crisis, emergencies rarely arrive with a warning. Our ability to respond effectively starts long before they strike. That is the essence of emergency preparedness: planning, training, and equipping individuals, organizations, and communities to act decisively when seconds count.
We have entered a new era of risk. Climate change is increasing the frequency and intensity of hurricanes, floods, and wildfires. Cyberattacks can shut down critical infrastructure in minutes. Global health threats have shown just how interconnected and vulnerable we are. And for industries like nuclear energy, aviation, and healthcare, the stakes have never been higher.
Preparedness is not just about drills and checklists. It is about culture. It means building resilience into our systems, our workplaces, and our communities. It means asking the difficult questions: What will we do? Who will lead? How will we communicate?
As someone who has spent decades responding to high-pressure situations, from emergency rooms to large-scale disasters, I have seen firsthand that the best outcomes always begin with preparation. When teams are trained, procedures are clear, and communication is strong under pressure, lives are saved.
Emergency preparedness is no longer optional. It is essential.
We may not be able to predict the next crisis, but we can choose to be ready for it.
I’ve lived through things that tested my strength far beyond the physical. Moments that shook my reputation, my direction, and even my sense of self. I’ve felt what it’s like to be judged by people who never knew the truth. I’ve sat in silence when my name was spoken wrongly. I’ve had to rebuild not just my life, but my belief in it.
And still, I rise. Not out of pride, but out of purpose.
Because I’ve realized something: experience is only as powerful as what you choose to do with it.
Every challenge I’ve faced, every hard-earned lesson has taught me how to listen more deeply, lead with humility, and meet others with compassion. It’s shown me how systems can fail people, and how people can rise anyway. It’s given me a lens not just for protecting lives, but for understanding them.
That’s what I carry forward into my career.
Whether I’m working in emergency management, public health, or team leadership, I bring more than technical skill. I bring lived experience. I bring clarity in crisis. Empathy for the overlooked. Accountability rooted in action, not just intention.
I no longer ask whether people see me as “enough.” I ask whether I’m doing the work to build something that matters, something grounded in truth, service, and connection.
The past will always be part of my story, but it’s not my destination. My future is being built on the tools I’ve earned: resilience, perspective, and the unwavering decision to grow, even when no one’s watching.
And that growth? It’s mine to own—and mine to offer.
For nearly two decades, I lived at the intersection of urgency and humanity—as a critical care nurse in trauma rooms, recovery bays, and the sky, caring for people in the most vulnerable moments of their lives. In those rooms, I learned what crisis really feels like. I learned how to keep calm when lives depend on it. And I learned that showing up with both skill and heart is never optional—it’s essential.
But over time, something else started to call me.
Not away from care, but toward prevention. Toward readiness. Toward the systems that protect people before they ever need the ICU.
That calling led me to pursue a degree in Disaster Science and Emergency Management—because I believe deeply in the power of preparation. I believe that the same vigilance, precision, and empathy I brought to every bedside can be applied to emergency plans, community outreach, and operational leadership.
This transition isn’t about leaving something behind. It’s about carrying it forward—every lesson, every code blue, every family member I held space for, and every split-second decision that taught me how to lead with clarity and care.
Now, I’m stepping into a new kind of service.
One where I use my clinical lens to inform policy. Where I advocate for safety before disaster strikes. Where I help teams, systems, and communities respond better—because I’ve been there. I’ve seen what happens when we’re prepared… and when we’re not.
I don’t take this shift lightly. Nursing shaped me. It built my backbone. But emergency management is where I know I can grow, contribute, and protect on a broader scale.
There are moments in life when the truth—no matter how clear, no matter how unwavering—simply isn’t enough to shield you from the damage of being misunderstood, misjudged, or falsely accused.
I’ve lived through that.
To be mistreated or wrongly accused of something you didn’t do is a kind of quiet devastation. You don’t just fight for your name—you fight for your worth. For your future. For the belief that fairness still matters.
And what hurts most isn’t always the accusation itself—it’s the silence that follows. The hesitation from people you once counted on. The doors that don’t open, not because of who you are, but because of what someone else said you were.
There’s a particular kind of strength it takes to walk through that—to keep showing up, to keep working, to keep treating people with respect when you’ve been denied the same. And I’ve chosen to live in that strength, not in bitterness.
What happened to me does not define me. But it does inform the kind of person I strive to be: honest, patient, and committed to giving others the fairness I wasn’t always given. I’ve learned that compassion matters most when it’s inconvenient. That judgment without understanding is a dangerous thing. And that integrity means choosing to live in the truth, even when it doesn’t protect you the way it should.
I share this not to ask for sympathy, but to offer perspective. Because I know I’m not the only one. And if you’ve ever been falsely accused, misrepresented, or dismissed—you’re not alone. You are still worthy. You are still whole.
We often talk about emergency preparedness in terms of checklists: supplies, protocols, evacuation plans. But at its core, preparedness is more than a task—it’s a mindset. And I believe it’s one of the deepest forms of respect we can show.
It’s respect for the people we serve. For the systems we rely on. For the environment that sustains us.
Working in emergency management and public health has shown me how fragile our world can be. One shift in the weather, one overload in the system, one gap in communication—and we’re reminded of how closely everything is connected. And yet, with that fragility comes an opportunity: to build systems that anticipate risk, not just react to it.
True preparedness isn’t about fear—it’s about responsibility. It’s acknowledging that our communities don’t exist in a vacuum. That environmental health, infrastructure, and equity all play a role in how we respond to crisis—and how we recover from it.
If we want stability, we can’t just plan for emergencies. We have to plan with the environment in mind. That means sustainable building, resilient energy systems, floodplain planning, and public health integration. It means asking, “What if?” not from a place of panic, but from a place of purpose.
Preparedness is how we respect the unpredictability of nature and the dignity of human life at the same time. It’s not about controlling everything. It’s about being ready—and helping others feel ready too.
There’s a quiet kind of strength in knowing where you belong—not just in a place, but in a purpose. For years, I’ve juggled two very different but deeply connected careers: the high-stakes intensity of emergency response, and the people-centered energy of the retail floor. Both worlds have taught me that it’s not the job title that matters most—it’s the meaning you bring to it.
In every role I’ve held, I’ve found myself drawn to something deeper than performance metrics or task lists. I’m drawn to connection. To clarity. To creating environments where people feel seen, safe, and supported—whether that’s a patient room, a crisis situation, or a store fitting room.
Working part-time in retail while leading in healthcare hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been meaningful. It’s reminded me that the impact you make doesn’t always come from the biggest title or the most dramatic moment—it often comes from showing up consistently, listening fully, and making people feel like they belong.
That’s what I look for in the next chapter of my journey. Not just a job, but a brand I believe in. A team I feel a part of. A space where values like integrity, inclusion, and purpose aren’t just printed on the wall—they’re lived every day.
Because when you find that kind of fit—where what you do reflects who you are—it doesn’t feel like work. It feels like home.
Mitch Lartigue – Building Safer Communities 