Utter Exhaustion

I don’t know how to feel. The last month has been nonstop back breaking work, ending with 2 days of a moving sale. After weeks of sifting through memories, tonight my house, our home, is almost empty.

I’m feeling just so touched and moved by all the love I felt and the people who came by. I’m feeling anxious and excited. I’m feeling scared. Nervous. Impatient to go. Ready. Sad. Lonely. Overwhelmed. Hopeless. Hopeful. Pick it and it’s washing over me. Except doubt. I’m in a really good place with my decision.

The sale was packed with visits from friends which was exhausting in the best way. And tonight, I’m sitting in the one recliner that remains, the only soft place to sit. I’m sleeping on a twin sized air mattress tonight. The dogs are confused and stressed. The house is echoing. It’s no longer our home. It’s just a house now. A house with painful reminders of what was and what should still be.

It has been a painful period. Trigger after trigger. Timing. Changes. Pressure. And all I want to do is fall into my bed that I don’t own and rest for days. I just want to rest.

Tonight when the last friend left after keeping me company in my empty house and watching the Office while eating on TV trays, I had a good cry. This has been so much fucking harder than I ever imagined. I don’t really know, and I find myself asking this again, how much one person can handle. It’s just amazing in a horrible way how much life has changed in so brief a time. It’s more unbelievable to me to look at how much work I’ve done.

I’m worried that I’ll have a meltdown. I’m worried I’ll go to the opposite extreme and throw myself so much into work that I stuff this away. I just feel so incredibly emotionally fragile right now. I feel vulnerable and like I could just shatter apart with the slightest impact.

A few people today told me they were jealous of me.

In a few days I’m leaving everything we made together. Our empty home brings me back to the first day we saw this place and knew we wanted it. To the hours and hours of work each week, the trees planted with ashes of our sweet babies.

Plans, goals, projects, dreams. Wiped out. I look around tonight and cry for what should have been. It’s shocking to see the house so bare.

We thought we’d grow old and die here.

We only got one part of that right. 😢

While so many doors are opening, so many are closing too. Openings and closings, endings and beginnings. I’m looking forward to what will be and hating the reason that these wonderful things are happening.

I miss my husband. 💔

Don’t be jealous.

Peace,

~ Lisa

Dear Michael

Dear Michael,

Wow. Today knocked me down. First, I wake up to an old photo you plant on my phone in the middle of the night, and then I REALLY wake up to the FB memory of us leaving the hospital after your diagnosis. Remember that? When we thought you had liver cancer and you would live? Good times.

I’m so fucking sad that I decided I wanted to write about some of your more surprising, funnier, or more embarrassing shit. I wanted to write some things because you are SO STRONG in my heart today that I have to get this out of me or I’ll cry myself into a tsunami of pain that I don’t know if I can recover from right now. I have to keep my eye on the ball. I have to get packed. I have to get out of here. So, I’m hoping that writing to you and about you will help me and ground me. And I hope I don’t embarrass you too much. ❤

It’s interesting. When I met you, everyone called you Mike. But you had introduced yourself to me as Michael, and I never called you anything different. When you met new people, they’d ask “mind if I call you Mike?” and you’d say, “I prefer Michael”. There’s a meaning to this. Stick with me.

I wonder if anyone knows how filthy your mouth could be, and always at the most inappropriate times! I wonder if anyone knows that something physically was wrong with you and you were literally unable to whisper. Because you’d be “whispering” foul language to me at the worst times (“oh Jesus effing christ are you fucking kidding me right now lady?” and other things of this nature), and EVERYONE could hear you, and you didn’t ever believe me! LOL Babe, they heard you. Every time. Funerals. Reunions. Lunches with mom. The line at Panera. They all heard you.

I wonder if anyone knows you were wickedly sarcastic. You were really good at psyching people out because you’d invent a story and stick it out to the bitter end. No matter how stupid it was. You were a race car driver. You invented the pet rock. There was a store call HISbergers that carried only men’s apparel. Whatever it was.

I KNOW that not many people had ever seen you drunk, at least not as Michael (more on that later – stick with me). It didn’t happen often. But those that did, knew that if you were drunk, you almost insisted that everyone around you was, too. We’d have get-togethers, and your admission charge at the door was that whoever entered had to take a shot of Yaeger. Yes, Yaeger. You made the worst, strongest drinks in the world. The worst. But you were a great drunk. Many a night, you had to get me home safely after a night of shenanigans and you were also a great drunk caretaker. One night, I had my head hanging out the car window all the way back to the hotel and I begged you not to let me die like Anna Nicole. You NEVER let me forget it! But you took really good care of me that night and I didn’t die like Anna Nicole, so there ya go.

I wonder if people know that I met a man who was pretty neutral about dogs. You would casually pet them and expect them to go away. You were a “no dogs on the couch” guy. I think that lasted about 8 or 9 minutes. You always said I changed you. But I think I just gave you a safe space to be who you were meant to be. I wonder if they knew that you became just as passionate about saving dogs as I was. I wonder if they knew how much you cringed when they told you how patient or wonderful you were to “let” me do this rescue stuff.

I wonder if people know we didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day because we thought it was stupid, and we forgot our anniversary half the time. We were never the “selfie” couple and didn’t banter back and forth on FB for the world to see our love. We didn’t care about that and had nothing to prove.

I wonder if people know how much we went through and the depth of our commitment. They don’t need to know. I just wonder if they do. Your mom, my kids, your kids, my dad, our animals, my health, your health. I’m clearing out the house and I have come across exactly 24 boxes of animal cremains.

I wonder if they know that every time one of our rescue’s animals passed away, we took some of their ashes and planted them in our backyard with a baby tree and there is now a Good Karma tree that will live forever. I wonder if they know that you and I cried for every one of them, together burying those ashes.

I wonder if they know how amazingly strong you were. When your mom died and I was doing her hair and makeup for the reviewal, you were my strength when I lost my breath. And it was YOUR mom. And when you delivered her eulogy, you were the symbol of strength and grace. When my son disowned me, your strength and clear-headedness got me through it. When I was losing and then lost my dad, you were EVERYTHING. You took care of EVERYTHING. You led his memorial service and you spoke eloquently and beautifully, and you had the strength of stone when shit got real.  You physically and emotionally held me up. Literally. Held me up when I started to collapse.

I know that not many people know of your pain and your history and your past. I will keep it that way, but what I can share is that here’s where the “Michael” part comes in. And it’s one of the things you told me (there were so many) that I will ALWAYS keep in my heart. ALWAYS.

So many people knew Mike and loved him. Most of the people that loved and knew Mike through his whole life fell away when you were Michael. I wonder if the people who hurt you, know they hurt you. I wonder if they know that when they rejected me and our relationship, you took that personally and let them go. I suspect they don’t know.

You told me that you didn’t like to be called Mike because it took you to sad and painful memories. It took you to a life that wasn’t yours and you didn’t want to go back to. And you told me that meeting me, gave you YOU back. You never wanted to be Mike again because Michael meant a life of acceptance and love with no conditions or expectations. I think I’ll always remember it most, because you told me this a few times in our lives together, but you made sure you told me that when you knew it was time to say good bye.

I’ll never share our last conversations because those belong to us. And I hope you are okay with me sharing this part. Because one of the biggest gifts you could have ever given me was thanking me for letting you be Michael, after a lifetime of living by other people’s expectations. In the end, to tell me that your biggest regret was not meeting me sooner because you didn’t know who you were until you met me. About a week before you died, I climbed in bed with you and we lied together looking at photos. You kept comparing old pics and more recent ones and pointing out to me, “Look. See? I was never smiling. Now look. See? Smiling in every one.” By making sure I knew this before you died, you told me that I did it right. You let me know that I was a good wife and a good person, and that I had made a difference in your life. You erased everyone that had ever judged me or made me feel like you were too good for me. You wiped away everyone who told me how lucky I was to be married to such a saint or a patient man (read: he loves you a lot, do you deserve it?) You erased everyone who had rejected me or broken my heart. You wiped away years of pain and sadness and doubt. And while I died on July 30 with you, that is one of the few sparks of light that kept me alive, was knowing that you died knowing you were loved, accepted, wanted, adored, and valued just as you were. That you KNEW, you FINALLY knew, what a beautiful man the authentic Michael Booth was. And selfishly, I needed to know that you knew that. That you truly, truly believed that you were as wonderful as I told you you were.

Until I see you in the middle of the night tonight ❤

Me

You saved me.

As I’m packing up my life, going through memories, trying to sell things off, unpacking boxes that I thought I could ship on the POD that has now been cancelled, trying to convince myself that maybe that antique desk that Michael had is JUST a thing and it doesn’t matter 😥 and of course crying, reminiscing, evaluating what matters; as I head to a new place with new people and new ideas and a new role; as I experience growing pains and different communications styles and hurt feelings and closing the door on some unhealthy relationships; as I practice the art of LETTING GO OF EVERYTHING….well I’m having a nervous breakdown. I’m a mess. I’m not okay on any level. And I’m not exaggerating. I’m having a nervous breakdown.

I’m experiencing events from a year ago as if they’re happening now. I’m panicking. Not sleeping, Crying. Screaming. Dropping to my knees and begging for him to come back. This shit is not for the weak and it’s not anything I would wish on anyone, ever.

But that’s not what I want to talk about. I really can’t talk any more about it. It’s so deep and vast that I can’t go there.

What I want to talk about is LOVE.

I watched the HBO documentary about Mr Rogers the other night. His whole thing was that everybody, every single one of us, needs to know that we are lovable and that we are perfect JUST the way we are. That telling someone that, can change the world.

I am so afraid to name people because I know I’ll forget someone, but I want you to know that so many of you LITERALLY saved my life.

Thank you to those who ignored my requests to be left alone and showed up anyway.

Thank you for answering my PM’s and helping me find mental health help NOW when I was ready to end my life.

Thank you for hearing my story and hugging me and thanking me for being authentic.

Thank you to those who emailed me or wrote me time and time again even if I didn’t answer you. Thank you for pushing me until I answered.

Thank you to anyone near or far who sent me a text saying they loved me or they were thinking of me.

Thank you for not comparing your pain to mine or mine to yours.

Thank you to anyone who listened to me cry and didn’t try to fix it.

Thank you to anyone who showed up, left something at my door, and didn’t even ring the bell.

Thank you if you made me a meal. Thank you for NOT making me a meal when I said no more meals. lol

Thank you for texting with me in the middle of the night.

Thank you for inviting me places and understanding when I said no, and continuing to invite me to more places.

Thank you for not minimizing my pain or telling me what I must do.

Thank you for inviting me over.

Thank you for checking on me.

Thank you for calling me EVERY TIME I messaged you and asked if you had a minute.

Thank you for loving me the way I needed it, not the way YOU needed it.

Thank you for loving me enough to let me sit in my pain alone when I needed to, and for knowing when I was in trouble and shouldn’t be alone.

Thank you to the early group that rallied around me when Michael was diagnosed. Who protected me, guided me, loved me, and looked out for me. Who heard me. And who are still my tribe of badass women.

Thank you for loving me, just as I am. There are so many of you that I won’t have time to see before I go, or people who are long distance that I don’t see regularly.

But you have saved me. I owe my life to some of you and you don’t even know it. There was more than one text that saved me. More than one interruption to a horrible thought pattern.

If you gave anything of yourself to help me in a moment of physical or emotional crisis, thank you. You made me feel lovable if only for that moment, and that carried me until the next moment.

You saved me. ❤ And even though there are crickets on this damn blog and perhaps nobody gives a shit anymore about what I have to say. But I needed to put this out into the universe. For me. And for the universe.

mister-rogers

Six suitcases and a messed up wrist

Kinda sounds like a drinking song?

So real quick…my wrist. Yesterday I was packing and purging…MOSTLY moving things out to the garage for my upcoming moving sale NEXT WEEKEND (holy shit where is time going!). So I’m moving along, moving along, music playing, I’m working through some of my “feelings” by sweating and punishing some boxes 😉 and all of a sudden – POP. I heard it. I kinda felt it but it felt more like I had bumped into something really hard. I instinctively started flinging my hand up and down because I hurt it, and of course cussing something about a mother or something…and I’m flinging my hand when I realize my arm is about one second ahead of my hand. It looked like my hand was detached! It didn’t hurt but it was disgusting. So off the the urgent care I go, they head me over to the ER and they pop it back in (THAT hurt like a MOTHER). They give me some iv pain meds, wait for them to wear off, and I go home. Now it’s in a brace but the brace hurts too. Whatever. It was actually funny before it started to hurt. You should have seen the faces in the waiting room. Good times. Good times.

But what I REALLY want to talk about is Six Suitcases. Literally and philosophically, spiritually or whatever. I would give almost ANYTHING for mass participation on this post, because I am really, really interested in what everyone has to say.

six suitcases.jpg

So, back to it. Six Suitcases.

Six Suitcases Part 1: The literal meaning.

I am flying down to the DR with the president of the rescue down there, and we are taking all of my dogs on that flight (in cabin with us). Each of us can check 3 bags. I can also pay for another 2 bags. He will be using 1-2 bags, so I may have one of his baggage allowance. Plus my 3 and I’ll pay to check 2 more.

So that’s six suitcases. That is what I have to condense my entire life down to before June 20.

Well not forever. I can store some things. I will be shipping some things in a container but that may take a couple months to arrive. I can have some things brought down later with friends, but that’s trivial. So, I have to put everything I need to live on a day to day basis into six suitcases.

Now, one of those suitcases (EASILY one – MAYBE 2) will be devoted to dog stuff. Their beds actually. Then I have yoga mats. Bella needs them or she will slip (permanently dislocated shoulder from the floors 😥 Did I tell you that?). I’m thinking okay, maybe i can fit the yoga mats and the dog stuff into two suitcases.

That’s four suitcases left.

One suitcase is going to be devoted to Michael’s things or other things that are very important to me and is non-negotiable.

Now I’m down to three.

It sounds silly maybe, or perhaps materialistic – nothing could be further from the truth as I’m getting rid of everything – BUT there are some items, home kind of stuff that I need with me. I just do. They mean something and I need them.  And my dad’s minerals. I can’t take them all, and will store them until I can get them down in trickles, but I need to take a few of those with me. Other “hard” items like A coffee pot (they’re really expensive down there). There’s another suitcase gone.

Down to two.

I keep whittling down and whittling down. I keep putting more in the moving sale than I intended to. I keep adding to the goodwill pile. More and more and more is going, so it’s not an issue of me letting things go. I’m really looking at each item and letting a lot of things go. By the way, looking at each item and going through all of these things is exhausting, depressing, and in general just defeating. Seriously.

I just don’t know if I need to reprioritize.

For example: Do I just suck it up and buy new appliances down there even though they cost more? Momma needs a coffee pot. NOT negotiable. Do I strip the dog beds and take JUST the covers and find new stuffing down there so they take up less room? You KNOW I need to make this move happy for them. All just me thinking out loud questions.

So, enough about me. Six suitcases. PLEASE tell me, WHAT WOULD YOU BRING? This is the REAL LIFE version of desert island. PLEASE play!

Peace,

~ Lisa

 

I’ve got Balls

Yes, yes dear readers. I have too many balls in the air 😉

I’m working Good Karma. I’m working DCDR. I’m trying to clean, purge, pack. I’m making dates with people that I want to see before I go. I’m loading things into the garage for a moving sale. Ordering things from Amazon while I still can.

I’m going through lots of things. And guess what….yep. It’s kicking my ass.

Let’s start with the house. OMG. This is really hard. I have never been a materialistic person, but I do like nice things. I don’t have much. Michael and I never did because that wasn’t important to us. But the point is, what I have, I LOVE. It just absolutely sucks to get rid of the artwork I JUST purchased – the artwork that has meaning that only Michael and I understand. The gorgeous custom recliner I JUST treated myself to with beautiful upholstery with mandalas on it. And my BED. The bed I got for myself a few months ago. I have BED payments ffs. Every gift I ever got from him, every coffee cup he drank from. Every dish that was his, even down to his pizza spatula. EVERY effing item becomes a cry-fest and a big dramatic decision. No, Lisa, you can’t keep everything he ever touched or owned. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It’s a cup. It doesn’t matter. 😥 But it all matters to me.

So, that’s a little tough. But it’s nothing compared to the boxes. Memories I had stashed away until a time when I could deal with them. And now, I’m dealing with them before I was ready.  Photos. 😥 Memorabilia. Souvenirs. Museum passes. Notes, Moments in time in a life gone too soon. Moments in time in our love story cut short.

Sunday, Michael’s kids came over to get the things he wanted them to have. I haven’t seen them since the Celebration of Life, so it was hard. It was hard to send his things away and know they are just….gone. But, they are just things. That’s what I keep telling myself.  They were all things that pre-dated me. I had no right to keep them. They were pieces of a life I never knew. They didn’t belong with me.

My two car garage is filling quickly with things I’ll try to get rid of in my moving sale. And I still have so much more to go.

For so long, I allowed myself to take my time. Feel what I need to feel. Work through my grief and pain. And in just a matter of a few days, that “take your time – grief has no timeline” was thrown into “you have to act NOW.” Now, nobody MADE me act now…it’s just that this opportunity came before I was officially ready for it to. But…that’s how I roll. I’ve never been “ready” to take any of the big steps I’ve taken in life. I just walk and hope that there’s ground underneath me.

Work. Well, work is busy. I’m not used to having so many people to collaborate with. I love it, but it is an adjustment. I’ve always made pretty unilateral decisions. I hated it. So I’m excited for a team of super involved people; it’s a learning curve. I’m still learning communication styles and work styles and where I fit. There are the usual transitional challenges, and I have a lot to learn. Wish me lots of luck in this new endeavor. ❤

Good Karma is a large time investment right now, trying to get it all squared away and set up to run really well without me being physically present.

Personal/ Family. I can’t even talk about it. Well, I guess I can, to say that the couple of remaining members of my family aren’t really in my life anymore. I keep in touch with my dad’s wife Karen, who has become such a source of love and strength for me; and beyond that, I have my friends. I’ve accepted some truths about my relationship with my daughter. I’m completely thankful for friendships that have lasted, or are emerging. It’s not quantity, it’s quality.

Physically. I can’t even talk about it. I mean it this time.

Emotionally. It depends. It changes minute to minute. I’m finding joy and then following it with a big crash. I’m depressed at the tasks at hand, physically exhausted from doing all the work, and just sad. Then I bounce back to excitement and hopefulness. But it NEVER EVER escapes me, WHY I’m in this situation. Yes, I’m excited about my next step. But I’d give it all back. 😥

Peace,

~ Lisa

Moving Fast

Hello to those still reading.  ❤

Well, things here are moving fast. Arranging to move rescue supplies to the Dominican Republic, trying to find my place in a new org while still managing Good Karma, trying to get things together for a massive moving sale, purging and packing for an epic relocation.

I’m in pain, fatigued, and nauseous. Got so much runaround from all the specialists that I quit going and am now under no doctor’s care.

The rescue is slowing down which is to be expected. I’m spending a LOT of time communicating with people which is to be expected. Calming fears, explaining misunderstandings, clarifying our goals, and answering for my decision to leave. That is also to be expected.

My sister moved out a couple weeks ago and I haven’t heard from her since. I think we learned more than anything how different we are, and that we honestly don’t like each other very much. She has blocked me so I’m not worried about her seeing this, and even if she does it’s true so no worries. Another one bites the dust.

I’m headed into personal hell time. All the fresh feels are coming back to me. Very soon, it will be a year ago that I started CaringBridge to keep everyone updated on Michael’s illness and (we thought) recovery. A time when a pretty large circle of people were watching us implode, and hearing my ever-more-dismal words explaining that he was going to die. I don’t know if people really got it until I posted the morning he was gone.

It wasn’t easy playing out our path online for everyone to see. It was a very vulnerable time. In fact, writing this blog is still quite vulnerable. Every time I start to write, I figure why bother. Nobody reads it anyway. I was going to stop blogging but I’ve decided this will just be my journal. I won’t and don’t expect replies or validation here any longer. I just need to pound my thoughts out for my own sake.

I’m headed into big milestones without him. The pain is unbearable and is drowning me all the time. I can’t accept it, I won’t accept it. I want to accept it, but I’m nowhere close. I miss my husband. I miss his voice and his arms around me. I miss his advice and his warmth. I miss being so loved. I miss the company and the friendship. I miss the man who understood me and loved me so much and enjoyed my company and made me feel appreciated. I miss having someone who enjoys my company and looks forward to ME. I miss loving so much. I miss having my best friend and partner in crime. I miss having my cheerleader, my trusted advisor, my protector, my caretaker, my everything. I miss him. ❤

In the meantime, I’m just plugging along, planning the next step in my life without him. Moving away from this place and all the memories will be good for my soul. It’s odd. I still don’t feel like I’ve had time to deal with losing him. I have taken time off. I have taken a hiatus. I’ve dramatically reduced my social commitments and my time away from home. Everything is sad and reminiscent of him. Nothing else matters here except the fact that he’s gone.

I’ve been in a pretty good depression these days. I’m extremely fragile and have reverted to the wailing, sobbing, and screaming of the early days when I would scream to the sky. The nightmares, though they never stopped, have picked up again. I’m in hell in my heart and my mind.

I have so much to look forward to, but even the new job and new location present scary and stressful challenges that make me miss him more. So, how do I leave all I know, move to a new country, begin as the new kid in a new org with people that have a long-standing system in place, keep my health and sanity intact, cope with missing my friends and my house, live with my grief, and cope in a new life without him?

Good questions. I guess we’ll find out together.

Peace,

~ Lisa

 

I am Alive.

In my last blog, I talked about how life-changing my trip to the DR was. I said I’d explain in another post, so here we are!

Not to sound too “eat, love, pray”ey, but this trip was seriously what my spirit, my heart, and my mind needed. Today an announcement was made to the Rescue volunteers and followers, that I am moving.

To the Dominican Republic.

Next month.

Holy.

Shit.

Well, here. Just read.

Before I went, I knew I was going to see if it was a good fit for me and my work style. I knew they needed someone like me and I needed someone like them. And by the time I arrived home, I announced to my family that I was moving. In June.

How? Huh? What the…Huh? No…that’s not your reaction. That’s MINE. Every day! I can’t believe how I came to be here in this place at this moment, how it all came to be. How stars have been aligning for years to get to this very moment. Something happened to me out there. I had a couple of hard core panic attacks of course…but around the third day, I was at the ocean and a feeling washed over me. I am alive. I’m still alive. I didn’t die. I will never be okay without him, and I’ll never be okay that he’s gone. But I am disgracing everything Michael and I stood for, curling up and crying and giving up. The legacy he and I created for saving animals and following our hearts and being proud of who we were and what we did…I owe us more than that. I’m alive. I have no deep roots with my family except my daughter. I have wonderful friendships that will sustain the distance. I don’t have to close or give up on GK because I’ve found a way to take it with me. It’s time for me to start my life without his shadow, without people feeling sorry for me, without the countless messages I STILL get from people who “just don’t know what to say”. It’s time for me to be Lisa, not Michael’s widow.

I owe ME that. This isn’t about owing him, or doing his memory justice. I’m secure in that and in our love transcending this lifetime. I know he is proud of and happy for me. So this wasn’t about doing his memory justice. It was about being authentic and true to me and to us.  It was about doing what I love in a place I love with people who are so kind and welcoming.  It’s a dream come true.

So, now my focus turns to packing, purging, and a moving sale. My daughter and a roommate are staying in my house for a year and then I will decide if it’s time to sell or not. My garage is filling with things to get rid of.

The house I’ll be living in is really adorable and very small. That, plus the cost of shipping container, etc – and I’ve decided for the most part to sell everything. I’ll take the things with me that matter, but a houseful of things will not be making the trip with me. I think it’s going to be really good for me and an interesting exercise in what I really need. It will just be me and my four girls! I hope they like the beach.

My house front
My new house 🙂 
My house
20 second walk to the ocean and nobody on the beach for miles. 

I hate how I got here. I hate WHY moving out of the country is a cool option for me. I hate what I have been through. And now, I’m ending up on a beautiful island doing the work I love. It’s hard NOT to feel grateful, and guilty and sad all at once.

In other news, I FINALLY got my cremain tattoo today. I’m SO in love with it. LOVE it so much. I have another session booked before I move to add to it and make the tree spread out a little more and add some colored leaves, maybe a couple of birds.

His ashes are in every aspect of the tree: The roots, trunk, branches, and leaves. It was an overwhelming experience for me. Besides being immensely painful, dang! it was also a rite of passage. It was something I’ve been dreaming of for so long now and to see it come to life, I can’t explain it. I can’t explain the comfort I get knowing his ashes are here with me.  I had an amazing tattoo artist that was so kind and understanding. She knew this was a big deal and she was just so respectful.

tat

So, a couple of dreams come true. A future on an island saving animals. A beautiful tattoo. All in my life because I lost the love of my life. I don’t understand. I’d give it all back for more time with him. And while I am alive, I’ll never be the same. All I can do is try my best to navigate without him and hope I’m making the right choices. All I can do is USE my life to do the most good I can. And I’m rescuing. Maybe even rescued. I have hope and excitement and adrenaline and love in my heart to give.

I’ve always had a good gut instinct and a sense of adventure. I’ve lived in Colorado, California, Minnesota, and now the Dominican. If nothing else, it makes for an interesting life story.

More as we go along.

Peace,

~ Lisa