I’ve had two traumatic experiences on December 19th. The second was my therapy termination and the first, which took place years before, was my “wedding” day, courtesy of The Baker Bunnies.
You might say, “Blogger, we have no idea what Baker Bunnies are or what you’re talking about.”
Readers, it’s better if you don’t. Ignorance really is bliss sometimes.
With both of those experiences, I remember feeling unsafe and uncomfortable and wanting it to stop. I wanted to leave. I wanted to object. I wanted nothing to do with it. Both times, however, I just sat through it. My brain convinced me to put my thoughts and feelings aside and live through it—fake it, and we could think about it later. I have to say that I’m really not a fan of that method after using it several times.
I don’t have psychology training, but after experiences where I’ve done that, I always wonder if I’d objected and gotten up and left instead of staying, would I have escaped the traumatic effects? Of course I’d have had the social consequences of leaving. With the first experience I would’ve been a failure and not a good person and would be under the seemingly real threat of being separated from anyone and everyone who I love, forever. With my therapy experience, I would’ve felt bad for not giving my favorite therapist who I loved like an actual person, the chance to do whatever he’d planned, and I would’ve had the unknown of what was he going to say to me? But would I have skipped the bulk of the trauma both times, or was just being put in those positions enough to cause it on a level that was going to harm me afterwards anyway? I think it would’ve been better both times if I’d said, “this is not in agreement with my principles,” and left, but I didn’t. I hold staying both times against myself sometimes.
Back to The Baker Bunnies, I’m not out to drag religions through the mud on this blog. I don’t like any organized religion, but I try to be respectful of those who do, so I don’t usually go around insulting details of what people believe. The bulk of religions feel the same to me and the details are just details.
But I was never a good Baker Bunny. Getting married as one and immersing myself in the world of The Old Testament, which I’ve always intensely disliked to the point of utter disgust, wasn’t being true to myself. Therefore, I ended up an inch away from being suicidal on my “wedding” night.
I shared more details about my experiences with exactly one person, you guessed it—The Therapist. Is it dumb that even at this moment, I can’t think of anyone who I’d rather talk to about that than him? Apologies to him that he had to be burdened with my religious trauma. Talking to him about it was one of my best decisions. He handled it like a hero. ❤️
But my traumatic marriage and my traumatic termination converge on December 19th. Perhaps it shouldn’t pack such a massive punch for me, but it does. It’s like the two experiences joined together and became more powerful. I feel like I’m not strong enough to cope with them both at once. It’s like a trauma threesome with me in the middle.
If I had a different personality, which is like saying, if I were somebody else and not myself, I might be happy as a Baker Bunny. I have a lot of children and I can be quite helpful. I’m organized and I’m a good cook when I feel like cooking. But I’m too independent and I write things like “trauma threesome” and “The Therapist is fucking hot” which aren’t things my parents or The Baker Bunnies ever wanted me to think, never mind write. P.S. note to Therapist, please count that mention as another mention of your hotness, thanks.
I decided to call them The Baker Bunnies because I thought, well what if instead of thinking of them as overbearing overzealous religious emotional rapists, I think of them as similar to certain figures you can buy with different outfits and different play-sets? They can be cute bunnies dressed like ridiculous looking bakers and not hurt me then. They just go around doing nice things for people and having lots of children and baking and sewing and all of the things that inherently sweet feminine women do. I don’t really have to be in pain from them do I? It seems a bit much to carry hurt and offense around from interacting with The Baker Bunnies, who usually have very good intentions.
It kind of works, thinking like that. I can’t dislike The Baker Bunnies without despising religions in general, so it kind of makes my trauma from them feel less personal. I can hate aspects of their religion in the same way I hate aspects of all organized religions, without hating them.
Why doesn’t that work with The Therapist?
Because with him it felt personal. He can say this and that weren’t ever real, but the point is a lot of it felt real to me. I’ve already gone into detail about his behavior, so I won’t use this post for that. That’s why the two painful experiences end up feeling different when I look at them separately. The Baker Bunnies treat everyone the same. The Therapist gives personalized service. The Therapist knew about my experience with The Baker Bunnies and he was either mean or he was careless about me specifically. And you know who does that? Upset emotionally overwhelmed boyfriends. They’re literally the only ones who have repeatedly done that personalized abandonment type of breakup bullshit to me. I feel like a counselor would need to have strong negative or positive feelings about a client to do it that way. Any other therapy situation could have a gentle thoughtful goodbye or a polite business goodbye at worst. The Therapist was putting distance between himself and his emotions—for fucking once in my therapy, during my termination. It felt cold and uncaring and judgmental (about himself or me or both I couldn’t tell) and rushed. He just wanted the damn breakup over with already. And this is why I’m left with confusion and why I hate and love him.
As for The Baker Bunnies, I keep a safe distance as I do with all religions. It’s awkward because I believe in God but have no group to socialize with about my beliefs.
I almost called The Baker Bunnies The Mormon Mice, but I didn’t like it as well.
This has been a little triggering for me to write, just a little, but I’ll be ok.
If I get too upset I can write a post about how beautiful The Therapist is, as a palate cleanser. It’s not my fault if he’s annoyed by me. He can use any number of his therapist tricks to emotionally regulate or get to zero trauma reaction or whatever. He did it this way so he must got it under control for himself. I’m just the runaway bunny who showed up for my therapy session.