As a kid, I loved running all over my family’s Texas ranch wearing my pajamas and tall, grey cowgirl boots. Now I live in urban Massachusetts, where I wear (supposedly) real clothes most days. I grew up with six siblings and some horses, a cow, goats, a dog, cats, chickens, geese, and rabbits. Now I live in a tidy house in Boston with three professional women and just one clean, (mostly) house-trained, bunny roommate. My childhood included gathering chicken eggs and driving tractors. Now I drive my dark green Toyota all over the neighborhood with a ID card hanging around my neck, identifying me as a hospice social worker.
Perhaps you won’t be surprised that I was obsessed with animals in my preteen years. This included rescuing many injured or baby animals, with a variety of outcomes. (A certain barn owl survived not only being mangled up in a barbed wire fence, but also being forgotten for days in my dad’s stuffy and dark toolbox, only to then land face-down in my goose swimming pool with no way to get out. RIP, owl.) As a teenager and young adult, I became obsessed with how to help children who had experienced trauma heal. I’ve never lost that obsession, but I now also have a general interest in helping people survive difficult times. And, little by little, I am learning how to receive help myself.
For a little more information about me and where I am coming from, you can read about my thawing out experience , my brief definition of trauma, and my personal understanding of spirituality. Also feel free to follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or Bloglovin’!