All About Bunny

I think you deserve to know who I am and what I am about so you can have a better idea of where I am coming from, and how I got here.  I do not believe any purpose would be served by holding back information and I am not going to play into the shame-based culture that there are things that we should not talk about.  Time is well past for us to be brow-beaten into keeping the secrets of our own abuse or of talking about the difficulties that we face.   

I am not a victim.  I have been kicked down by life’s circumstances many, many times.  I have been discarded, used, not understood, oppressed, ignored, not loved the way I deserve to be loved.  I was sexually molested as a toddler and at age 8 by random people and family members.  I was emotionally neglected by my mother, who was depressed and addicted to valium.  My step-dad was a practicing alcoholic.  I was emotionally abused by my step-mother.  I was not protected by my father.  I started abusing alcohol at age 12 and drugs and food at age 13.  I started battling depression at age 12 and this is a battle I have waged most of my life, even to this day.  I have been suicidal numerous times in my life, having both plans and a means to carry out the act.  I lived on egg shells when my mother married her third husband.  I was raped at age 15, on a bathroom floor of a stranger’s house, drunk out of my mind, so no force was necessary.  At 29 my husband cheated on me when I was no longer useful to him; I divorced him.  I have fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue, for which I was on temporary social security disability at age 31, but I had health issues leading up to that at age 25.  I filed for bankruptcy.  I faced near homelessness.  In trying to rebuild my life I earned my teaching credential, worked as a teacher for one year and then was laid off for a year, requiring me to return to a career in social services that I was trying to avoid. I have sensory issues.  I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and anxiety from my career as a Child Protective Services Social Worker (you know, that career I was trying to avoid? Oh, the irony!!!).  In my 56 years on this planet I have moved 28 times, living in 18 different cities; 17 of those moves occurred by age 18.  I lost my home, 99.9% of my belongings and my town in the 2018 Paradise Camp Fire; the most destructive fire in California history and the most expensive fire in the world in term of insured losses.  I lived as a displaced person for nearly six months after the fire, in the county where I worked which was not good for my PTSD.  CPS PTSD + Fire PTSD = complex PTSD (complex PTSD is a series of traumatic events over a period of time).  In the midst of all of this my 23 year relationship ended after I invested my heart, sanity, time, money, effort and life into it.  After the fire I bought my new “forever” home in Sacramento; 21 months later really shitty neighbors moved in, making my life there completely untenable.  So uprooted again, I put my newly acquired, post-fire belongings in storage and fled, now living in another state in a travel trailer.  Being uprooted, again, really kicked my ass, mentally and physically, and I had to quit my new job because I was so burned out and could not work anymore; I had nothing more to give to anyone, including to myself.  I tried taking classes to be a life coach and had to drop out of that (and dropping out is not something I do).  I was numb, living disassociated every day, lost, bereaved, untethered, unmoored, profoundly depressed, triggered by way too many things, anxious, avoidant, exhausted, sad.  My brain was beat down, my soul was beat up; life was there but unseen and unfelt by me.

But I am not a victim.  I am not bitter.  I am not angry.  And the years have taught me not to shake my fist and cry up at the heavens “Why me?!” in utter anguish, but to say, simply “Why not me?”  I am not immune from the tragedies and vagaries of life.  I am a participant in this life, and us participants get knocked around.  I have not really ever identified as being “a survivor.”  Have I been kicked down?  Oh, you bet!!  But ultimately, I pick myself up, brush myself off, take a deep breath, make a plan, and keep moving—I am a thrivor.  A “thirvor” being a level higher than a mere “survivor.”

And let me tell you about the fantastic, interesting, blessed, magnificent parts of my life.  I lived atop several mountain ranges.  I lived near the beach and on the sea.  I lived in the country and suburban and urban areas.  I attended a one-room school house atop Mt. Hamilton, at Lick Observatory—I was the only student in my grade and there were only eight students total.  From age 5 until age 8 I ran amok atop Mt. Hamilton, exploring and being part of nature, climbing down into canyons and watching sunsets on the steps of the different telescopes with my beloved brother, Larry.  From age 12 to 15, I lived on a trimaran sailboat in the San Francisco Bay Area and explored the sloughs all by myself in my dinghy.  I currently own, with my family, 42 acres of wooded, riverfront property in the beautiful Pacific Northwest.  I was raised to know that the color of someone’s skin, or their culture, or their sexual orientation, or their religion is not what matters—what matters is only that someone has a good and true heart and by that alone are they to be “judged.”  I have benefited from the positive attributes of my parents:  a very serious work ethic, intelligence, curiosity about things, a love of history, books, and nature, a sense of social justice, appreciation of collecting art, interesting things and historical artifacts.  The negative attributes of my parents forced me to be fiercely independent, self-sufficient, a planner and a doer, and to not discount the reality of someone because it does not match yours.  I was the first in my family to graduate from college, and I have an Associate’s, a Bachelors and a Master’s degree, all with honors.  I earned a high school social studies teaching credential.  I have nursing assistant and EMT-1 training.  I am a certified massage practitioner.  I hiked and backpacked, carrying 45 pounds on my back to elevations above 10,000 feet.  I have been a nursing assistant.  I worked in a residential children’s home as a counselor as well as at a county children’s shelter as a counselor and a supervisor, and at juvenile hall as a counselor.  I have been an EMT/firefighter at a time when only 2% of the nation’s firefighters were women; I responded to calls on an all-woman staffed fire engine; I am a bit of a bad ass!  I worked as a cashier at a spa and as an assistant in an art gallery and frame shop.  I have been a site manager at a seasonal homeless shelter, working 56 hours per week, supervising 16 workers and overseeing up to 300 individuals who were homeless per night.  I have been a job coach for adults with developmental disabilities.  I have been a case manager for teens who were homeless.  I have been a high school history teacher.  I spent over 13 years as a Child Protective Services social worker and 2 years as a Public Health, Homeless Services social worker.  I was awarded for Workforce Excellence from a County Board of Supervisors for my work at Child Protective Services.  I have trained and mentored people throughout my career, including being a field instructor for Master of Social Work Interns and AmeriCorps home visitors.  I have volunteered to teach first aid, CPR and outdoor survival.  Over 20 years ago I volunteer and taught for Triangle Speakers, going to schools and community agencies to participate in panel discussions about being bisexual.  I am Jewish-Pagan-Buddhist and my patron saints are St. Francis and St. Wilgefortis; I have a smidgen of Muslim blood in me as well.  I have always embraced being a sexual person, and always without shame.  I have a wicked sense of humor, a zest for life, superior intelligence, determination, altruistic and highly sensitive personality types, and a chronically curious mind; I am fascinated by many, many things and am both humbled by and in awe of Life.  If I did not inhabit and contemplate the absolute lowest places in my life, I would not be able to appreciate the grandeur, wonder and astonishing and sublime parts of life. I am resilient as fuck.

In my work, especially as a social worker, I fought hard to demonstrate that clients, usually the most vulnerable human beings, are to be treated fairly and as another human, not to be looked down upon as worthless pieces of shit.  Society, the public at large, and “the system” operate under a lot of incorrect assumptions, prejudices, biases, and paternalistic thinking about the clients the system is set up '“to serve.”  The largest part of my CPS PTSD comes from what I call “bureaucratic trauma,” meaning I was not fully supported in my extremely difficult work by the supervisors, program managers, deputy directors and directors (aka, the “higher ups”) who oversaw operations, and should, in theory, be there to support the workers in “best practice” and in establishing and overseeing policies and procedures that are researched-based, feasible, intelligent and compassionate to the workers on the front lines and most definitely to the clients we are meant to serve.  To be wedged between the clients and their needs and, minimally to not be supported and at worst to try to be railroaded into unethical and/or harmful practices, and to not acknowledge the immense stress and pressure of an unreasonable workload and witnessing tragedy and trauma on a daily basis that was rarely recognized—well, that is bureaucratic trauma.

So I come to you, Fabulous Reader, with experience based in my personal trauma, from my childhood and adulthood, and the extreme primary trauma my clients’ lived through, the secondary trauma experienced by me and my colleagues as social workers, and then into my complex PTSD.  In the midst of my clients’ trauma and my trauma, I was a steady force in being vocal about and taking action in dealing with the trauma, speaking openly about a usually verboten subject with my clients, interns, AmeriCorps workers, coworkers, and the higher ups.  I advocated for support groups and a safe space (“Zen Den”) for workers to retreat to.  I taught about secondary trauma (the trauma we get from bearing witness to the trauma of others), Trauma-Informed Care (how an agency who serves clients with trauma backgrounds can be more compassionate and not further cause or trigger more trauma), and self-care to my interns, AmeriCorps workers and some supervisors.  It should not have been a battle for me to do trauma work within my own agency, further compounding my own trauma, but it mostly was a battle.  But the gifts (yes there are scars and GIFTS!) this battle has imbued me with:  knowledge, compassion, passion, understanding, empathy, humor, and experience, now, Fabulous Reader, I get to share my gifts so you feel understood, not alone, not crazy, supported, un-gaslighted, and like there is unconditional love for you.  This is a rough journey, but we will make it and we will go from the depths of despair, paralysis, numbness, and joylessness to surviving to thriving.  All I ask is that you step onto my path, a path well-travelled and well-mapped, even if just for a moment, to give yourself that much-needed respite and succor, and feel the peace that is possible.  Just breathe.  It is safe here.  You are valued here.  Let the tears fall.  Let the laughter come.

And by the way, my name is Bunny (yes, that is my real name).