Rising Stars: Meet Sunny Eaton

Today we’d like to introduce you to Sunny Eaton.

Hi Sunny, so excited to have you with us today. What can you tell us about your story?
My road has been long and winding. My Mom, a young mother raising me by herself, was a free spirit and relentlessly committed to finding a better life for us. Growing up, we moved often, wherever the wind blew or opportunity arose. In total, I’ve lived in 11 states and 5 countries.

Looking back as an adult, I can see that we didn’t have much, Sometimes Mom and I shared a 1-bedroom apartment, sometimes she worked 3 jobs and went to night school. I knew we weren’t wealthy but I don’t ever remember feeling poor. I don’t remember my mom ever believing there was something she couldn’t do or doors closed to her. She passed that belief on to me and it has shaped my life.

I graduated from Ball State University with a degree in Psychology. After spending a few years in social service, it became quickly apparent that was not my calling. It was during this time period I came out as a lesbian and had my first serious relationship with a woman. We moved to Washington DC so I could attend law school.

I dont have coming out horror stories. My mother knew before I did. My grandparents figured it out before she broke the news to them. My entire Puerto Rican family was immediately accepting and I never experienced rejection. The depression and emotional issues that plagued me during adolescence melted away when I accepted myself. I have been out as a queer woman for my entire adult career. That has come with challenges but the reward of living my life honestly and openly has far outweighed any difficulty.

I am currently the Director of the Conviction Review Unit for the Nashville District Attorney’s Office. I’m married to an incredible woman named Karin who is the Director of Information Security for a healthcare company. We live in East Nashville with our dog, Kona. In 2015, we sold our home and every single thing we owned in order to spend the next 2.5 years driving and camping through 10 countries from Canada to Panama (and back again). After our journey, we co-authored a book called “I Can. I Will. Women Overlanding the World” about the inspirational women we met on the road.

Prior to our adventure, I owned a criminal defense law firm. Before that, I was a public defender. I love my career in criminal law. I love being in a position to help people during the darkest times of their lives. What I do now for the DA’s office – investigate cases where a person may be wrongfully convicted and try to correct those wrongs – may be more rewarding and meaningful than anything else I’ve done.

There was a time, in the year before we left the country (2013-2014), when I was started losing touch with the reasons I love this career. The weight of the lives of other people, the seemingly insurmountable problems in our system…I started to feel lost.

During this same year, my wife Karin was diagnosed with a rare and debilitating condition called Eagle’s syndrome. She quickly developed a myriad of terrifying symptoms and eventually, an aneurysm. Overnight our lives changed. The year following her first symptom was full of doctor’s visit after doctor’s visit. Test after test. Long stays at the Mayo Clinic. Multiple surgeries and procedures. Fear, pain, helplessness. Finally, a surgeon was able to help Karin and our lives returned to a semblance of normalcy. Normal for us had become long days of work followed by short nights of dinner, TV, and bed. We traveled as much as possible on the weekends which meant we weren’t really connecting with our friends or families; we were just escaping the week. We had become our jobs. Every week was indistinguishable from the last. After facing the reality that I didn’t know if I would have 60 years or 6 months with Karin, I started asking myself how I would want to spend our time together. It was not like this.

I researched long-term travel options. I thought about doing a worldwide backpacker’s trip for a year, staying in hostels, maybe hiking the Camino de Santiago. But we had a dog and can be a little high-maintenance so I wasn’t sure that was the experience we looking for.

Back then, Karin’s favorite place was Costa Rica and we had vacationed there twice. We both wondered if we could ship our vehicle there and live for a few months. Then it occurred to us that maybe we could just drive there and we pulled out a map. Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras were among the countries between here and Costa Rica and we quickly wrote that option off as too dangerous for two young women… I roll my eyes when I think now about the fear I had back then. More research brought me to a FB group full of people who traveled regularly by car along the Pan-American Highway and its surrounding regions – Alaska to Patagonia. Many of those people were women traveling solo, some were families with children and pets. I convinced Karin and a plan started to form. 6 months later we had sold our home, left our jobs, bought a Land cruiser, a rooftop tent, and hit the road.

It’s hard to describe the experience we had on the road. It’s not what you think it will be. It’s better. And worse. And life-changing and hard and every single second is one we will never forget. The hardest days are the ones I look back on now with the most fondness and longing. I learned so much about myself. I’m capable in ways that would never have occurred to me. My wife is a superhero, there is nothing she can’t do. Our relationship deepened and we were completely in sync. We got creative in order to extend our trip longer than the one year we had planned. Sometimes we did work-trade jobs for food, places to stay, or just more authentic experience. We started a travel blog and Instagram account (@thevagabroads). I learned about trademark law and launched a virtual law practice called On the Map Legal. “Work” took on a new purpose and stopped being something I dreaded but instead became fun and a means for fulfilling life experience.

The last two years of my dog’s life were spent with us 24/7 exploring, playing on beaches, hiking in mountains. She died in my arms, peacefully, on a jungle mountain in Costa Rica overlooking the ocean. It was heartbreakingly beautiful.

The world is so, so small. People are kind everywhere. Every country thinks the next one down the line is more dangerous than theirs. In the USA, they told us Mexico was too dangerous, we would die. In Mexico, they told us Guatemala was too dangerous, that we would get robbed. In Guatemala, they told us El Salvador was too dangerous and that gangs would cut off our heads. Everyone was wrong.

What no one really talks about when they go on a trip like ours is what it means when you come home. You see your hometown in a new light, with fresh eyes. It wraps around you like a warm, familiar blanket and everything seems easy and natural. You feel healed in ways you didn’t know you were wounded.

You also realize that no one will ever actually care or understand the depth of what you have just experienced. Blank expressions while you recount stories of camping next to erupting volcanoes, avoiding certain death from mountain mudslides, having your laundry done by Mayan women in riverbeds…hollows your words. At first, that is difficult to contend with. But soon, that reality became its own magic because those experiences were truly mine. And Karin’s. Ours alone.

The re-entry was traumatic in its own way. Everything seemed too bright, too loud, too hurried. Priorities quickly shifted back to the material, the necessary, and the schedules. But we were both so much more equipped than when we left. We were anxious to get back to our careers because we had done the digging and discovered our love for them again. We were both better at our jobs because of the lessons we had learned on the road. We didn’t take for granted anymore the security and privilege our jobs gave us. I came back with a profound sense of love for people and the world around us that I don’t think I ever had before. I can find beauty and humor in ANYTHING now. I didn’t realize how much constant crippling fear and anxiety I had lived with until it was gone. I came back with a sense of duty and drive to serve.

We lived in a San Diego for a few months upon our return to the States. This gave me a chance to transition from the wild life of the previous two years. California is full of inspiration. You can put yourself in the way of beauty with every step you take. Because we didn’t know anyone and even the people we did know couldn’t really take in the stories we had to tell, I began to write. I had so much to say!! During our time there, we completed the book about the women we met on the road. I wrote numerous  essays  someday I hope to compile into something cohesive. This writing became a roadmap for me in defining what mattered.

Upon coming back to Nashville, I continued to grow my virtual law firm and personal brand. I began doing speaking engagements on topics related to adventure travel, brand-building, and of course, my first love: issues surrounding the criminal system. Along with two other friends we met on the road, we formed a small company called “Women Overlanding the World.” We took women on 10-day overland adventures in Costa Rica. We would rent adventure vehicles equipped with rooftop tents and explore Costa Rica together. We had taken five trips to Costa Rica when the pandemic hit and shut everything down. While everyone else was struggling to take their businesses virtual, I’d been set up that way for a while. My law firm did better than ever and I loved the freedom this new area of law was giving me. I felt valuable because I could help young entrepreneurs figure out what they needed to do to thrive in these uncertain times. I helped my colleagues take their practices virtual so they could weather the storm. But something was still missing.

When the opportunity arose for me to take the position of Director of the Conviction Review Unit, what was missing became instantly clear. After a summer of incredible social reckoning in our country, I wanted, no, I needed to be a part of making change and creating impact. The desire to be of service and to be part of moving our country forward in a real way was burning a hole inside of me. My trial attorney background, my variety of life experience, the positive working relationships I had developed with the progressive attorneys within the District Attorney’s office, the leader at its helm whom I’m incredibly proud to work for and my connection with this city, made this the perfect job for me, at the perfect time.

Karin and I plan on another long-term road adventure in a couple of years, maybe through South America or Southeast Asia. Next year, I plan on a short, solo trip in Nepal and someday, we will definitely hike the Camino.

I know I will never stop seeking out epic life experiences, it’s who I am. But for now, at this moment, I am content. I love my wife; I love my job. I love my city.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not, what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
It has not always been smooth but is it for anyone, really? I struggled with undiagnosed ADHD until I reached law school and had no choice but to address it. I cannot overstate the impact this had on my education (and interpersonal relationships!) to that point. It is so easy for people around you, when hearing about your symptoms, to say “everyone does that!” or “that’s not a real thing!” not knowing how painful and obtuse that response can be. Sure, at times, I’m certain everyone does have some of the same difficulties. But it becomes a mental health issue at a different level. A level that affects every part of your life. Recognizing and beginning to manage my ADHD was like flipping a light switch in terms of how I viewed myself and my abilities. 

I suppose I could discuss the challenges that have come with trying to be successful as a queer, Puerto Rican woman in a southern city but there is no way i could fit all of that into a little box.

Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I firmly believe Conviction Review Units are essential to a modern District Attorney’s Office. We have a duty to seek justice, always. That cannot mean just obtaining convictions. It has to mean a commitment to getting things right. It has to mean admitting when we have gotten them wrong and urgently taking corrective action. We owe this to the wrongfully convicted, we owe this to victims of crime, their families, and to our community.

This is a system run by human beings. Human beings who got into this career because they wanted to make a difference in a genuine way – systemically and for individuals. But humans have biases, humans make mistakes.  We have to demand leaders who are willing to accept this reality and are driven to take risks in trying new approaches in rhythm with the collective reckoning our nation is going through as it relates to our criminal justice system.

Image Credits
Joshua Corey
Gg Photo
Karin Balsley