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

Quicksand, Lessons, Indescribable Friendship

Hello faithful friends ❤

So much. So much to update. I’ll try to keep it brief and coherent.

Let’s see. Where to start.

My health sucks. I’m doing the best I can. The warmer weather does help what I call “statue body” where everything on my body freezes or seizes, so that’s good news. The not so good news is that my insurance sucks and won’t cover the one drug all of these experts are prescribing to me – Lyrica. I also still haven’t gotten Xeljanz because of the same sucky insurance issue, so I’m flying without a net as far as pain management goes.

My life. Wow. A lot.

I’m most likely selling the house at some point in the not-so-far future. It’s too expensive and too much for me to keep up with.

My sister is moving back to Colorado. She will be leaving in about 3 weeks. She’s not in love with my plan (for her, she’s very supportive of me though) and she’s not in love with Minnesota, so she’s heading back to try to make things work in CO again.

I’m taking a vacation soon. I’m not sharing details about where or when, because I’m a paranoid freak now that I am single and I don’t want people knowing when I’m not at home. I will post amazing pictures and stories upon my return.

In the grief department, well what can I say. It’s quicksand. It’s constantly swimming against a strong slushy undertow. Some days I exhaust myself just to stay put in one place. Some days, I’m immersed to my head. Some days, I climb out a little. Some days, I find myself deeper than I was the day before. It’s a moment-to-moment swing that very few understand.

This is actual footage of me*.

quicksand

Grief is not a journey. It’s a permanent state of life. It’s not something to get through or with an end. It’s something you have to learn to walk with, life with. It’s a part of you. The emptiness is permanent. The heartbreak is irreversible. It is who I am. I am a widow. I am a widow before my time. I’ll never make sense of why. Some days, I accept it and I really have a good state of mind that my relationship with Michael is strong and powerful, it’s just moved to a spiritual level. Some days, I wake up and it takes me a few minutes to remember he’s never coming back. The nights are the worst. Everyone goes to bed around 10-10:30 here and then it’s quiet. Then the distractions, the dogs barking and playing, the conversations, the TV, and the noise of the day stops. And then I’m alone. With Michael. And my fears. My memories. And my racing mind.

I still have frequent nightmares. Well actually I would call them night terrors except they aren’t. I wake up almost every night (usually a few times a night) to his cries for help. I wake up almost every morning in a panic that he called out for me last night and I slept through it. Those are those blissful few minutes I referred to earlier when I think he’s still alive. My dreams, when I remember them, are filled with the pain of those last few weeks watching the man I love deteriorate and lose his battle. In my waking hours, the memories are nice. At night, they turn evil on me.

Lessons

I’m learning so much. I’m learning about who I am without the attachment or title of wife. I’m learning that I need to live alone. It turns out I’m not an easy roommate. I’m not difficult on purpose. I’m just grieving. And it’s hard for people to understand, impossible for me to explain, and definitely harder for people to live with someone who is unpredictable. I don’t feel I’m ever unkind. But I do weird things like change light bulbs at 10pm. Change my mind 100 times a day and make it impossible to keep up with. Get a whim and pull everything out of the shed for the yard. Go through phases where I eat nothing for 2 days, then eat junk food for a day, and so on. Get a burst of energy and trim the bushes. Be extremely lethargic and fatigued and stay in my pajamas until noon. It’s difficult for roommates to follow my vibe, and difficult for me to explain it to them. So the lesson learned is that Lisa needs to live alone for everyone’s sake.

This is the actual book that is being written about me.*

roommate

 

Indescribable Friendship

If one thing good came from losing Michael, it was this. Although many people have followed my story and many people reached out with kindness, one person shone through. I had never met her. She wasn’t an adopter or a volunteer. She wasn’t an old friend. She bought wreaths from the rescue Xmas fundraiser the year before and met Michael very briefly when she came to the house to pick it up. But she saw my story on FB, and she read about Michael’s passing. And she reached out to me to tell me how he had impacted her in that short meeting to pick up wreaths.

She kept reaching out to me. We exchanged lots of emails. She is a widow too, and something compelled her to KEEP reaching out to me. Sometimes it’s just an email saying she’s thinking of me. Sometimes it’s a quick comment on one of my blog posts. Sometimes more.

She’s become my confidant. She was my safe place. Close enough to understand but JUST far enough removed that I could share things with her without fear of judgment or information leaks ;). She understood and understands me and all I’m going through. She’s walked before me on this road. She knows the pain. She validated me and made it okay to say what I needed to say. Challenged me, held me accountable, but always did so with a no-nonsense loving nature about her that made me feel I’d known her my whole life.

Yesterday, I met her face to face for the first time. A quick coffee date turned into almost 3 hours of talking about the past, the present, and the future. We talked about dreams, she helped me sort some thoughts out, offered to help me in some pretty amazing ways with the rescue, and filled my soul. She touched me so much, because she paid attention. She knew my deal. She knew what I liked and didn’t. She knew what I feel. And she was never scared. Even when I’d post a bitchy blog or call her out on something, she never flinched. And now, through the pain and loss of Michael…I’ve found a lifelong friend and soul sister who I think is going to be a strong influencer in the rest of my life.

friend-quote-true-realize

A long time ago I gave everyone who said “I think about you a lot, I just haven’t reached out because I don’t know what to say” a free pass. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, and I’ve easily let them go. I have enough to wrap my head around and enough to worry about without worrying about how my loss makes other people feel. It sounds cold, but the reality is that if my husband passing away makes you uncomfortable, unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about that.

I’ve made/ strengthened some amazing friendships and relationships since Michael had to say goodbye. I’ve lost many too, and that’s okay. I’m focused on what I’ve gained, and one thing I can say – one gift I’ve been given; I really, really know that my circle of friends loves me. I really, really have fine tuned my circle and my social bubble to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love. People who accept me, and who I accept. People who will do anything they can to help me, and people I will do anything I can to help. There’s no time for anything else.  And that is one thing I can say I never had until everything and everyone in my world including me was put to the test. I now know who my “family” is and that’s a really, really good feeling.

Thank you, Michael. ❤ Always and still, forever…looking out for me. Just like you promised. ❤

Peace,

~ Lisa

* No, it’s not.

 

 

A Heavy Heart

Beautiful heart

 

Hello friends. ❤

I’ve had a really tough spell the past few days. It all culminated this morning and has kinda knocked me down. I cannot believe all I have been through and am still going through, by no choosing or fault of my own.

I can’t believe my life.

I can’t believe he’s gone.

I’ve been regressing a bit emotionally. And before you tell me not to beat myself up, I’m not. I am still letting this tsunami take me where it takes me. I’m not expecting. I’m just surprised is all. Yesterday, I reached to text him twice to send him pictures of the puppies. It’s like in my mind, he’s still at work.

Anyway, all of this to say, I miss him so much. I miss him terribly. I miss him more and more with each passing day, because it’s just one more day that has passed since I’ve seen him, heard him, touched him, felt him in the room. One more day since he was plucked out of existence, leaving a vast and indescribable void in my life and my heart and my world and my everything. One more day since the only person who ever understood me has been gone.

I’ve made some decisions about his ashes, but they still live on my bedside table in the simple black box that they came in. One of the things I have wanted to do for a long time, was find a way to memorialize him. I have some plans that are private, and I will do on the one-year anniversary. But I miss him so damn bad, I really need to feel close to him. So I’ve taken a couple of steps to help. The first thing I did was order a piece of jewelry that will have his ashes infused into it. In order to do that, I need to send them some of Michael’s ashes and they will infuse it into the silver. That will take about 6 weeks. Too long.

So, I finally found my version of an urn. It just arrived yesterday. I filled it with his ashes, and I will wear it constantly. It’s a silver heart. It’s really heavy which seems so appropriate. I’m very aware that I’m wearing it and I catch myself holding it often. I can’t explain it, but it gives me peace and comfort. I’m also going to get some tattoo work done with his ashes incorporated (it wasn’t easy to find a great tat artist to agree to this, but I did and my mind is set – no advice needed). I have three appointments on the books starting in May.

Heart urn

Have you ever handled cremains? I have many times, getting urn jewelry for special pets, and when Michael and I planted trees in our backyard, we put the ashes of every dog we ever loved into the soil. We have a specific GK tree in the yard <3. So, I thought I knew what to expect. I didn’t expect it to be so emotional for me.

This grief shit is not for the weak. It’s literally the hardest, worst, most painful, most disorienting, most life-destroying event that anyone can possibly imagine, times 50.

Looking at the big picture; in the past couple of weeks, I have gone through all of his clothes, gone through a lot of his things that are in the basement, handled his ashes. I’ve also been dealing with the health insurance nightmare (I think it’s FINALLY resolved?!?) and everything else in day to day life. Things at home are good, but very emotionally charged. We are three women, all going through our own things, and there are lots of puppies with lots of energy, so the energy of the house is out of whack.  It’s no wonder that I’m emotional.

In other news, my diagnosis of Small Fiber Neuropathy is official and on the books. I passed muscle tests and had some concerning nerve tests (PS I will NEVER have an EMG again. NEVER, ever agree to this test! It blows!). I also have carpal tunnel in both hands (numbness and tingling) and days when clothing hurts my skin. I have good days, too. But a good day for me isn’t even equal to what would have been a normal day for me a year ago. I have to stop thinking about what my life was, and focus on what IS. What IS real, is that I am in a lot of pain, my husband has died, I have too many decisions to make, and I’m overwhelmed at the thought of the rest of my life without him.

In joyful news, the puppies are SO amazing and BEAUTIFUL! Just stunning, all of them. They are listed for adoption now, so they should be finding new families very soon. I love them. They have given me a purpose. I’m a little worried about what I’ll do when they leave. I really enjoy having them here and man, they’re great therapy. But, they are getting really big and it’s tough to play with them all. They’re getting spayed/neutered tomorrow! They bring so much joy to my life. I tried to upload a video but WordPress had a fit. If you want to see videos and you are on Facebook, send me a friend request and you can see the videos!

That’s all I have for today. Thank you for sticking this out with me. I’m so surprised to find myself in such a raw place so suddenly. I know I will get through it. I no longer doubt that I WILL get through it.  I just hate that I have to.

Peace,

~ Lisa

PTSD 101

PTSD is most often associated with those who have seen battle and war. But it’s a very real condition that anyone can experience after a traumatic event.

My PTSD started almost immediately after Michael passed away. My mind was flooded with images of my father and Michael in their worst dying times. My heart was overflowing with what if’s and omg when I rolled him over did I kill him and wondering if I did a good enough job caring for them. My mind raced all over the place, searching for things I didn’t say or didn’t do. Wondering if our last goodbyes were what they should have been (yes). Wondering if I helped them leave this life peacefully (I hope so). Wondering where they are. And when I would close my eyes, the haunting images and memories of very painful and difficult times overtook me. Then, the panic attacks started (first time in my life I’ve had panic attacks or anxiety). The middle of the night wake-ups to Michael screaming, even though he wasn’t there. Jolting up in bed because I think I hear him calling me. Reliving the horrific hell that was the last few weeks of Michael’s life. Images of my dad thrown into the mental slide show just for fun.

This ticker-tape slideshow runs constantly in my brain. Every time I close my eyes, the movie is playing. Even if I blink too long. The horror movie is always playing if I just pay attention.

My crazy energy is back, for now. I’m painting in the middle of the night again. PTSD. I have a hard time falling asleep unless I’m pretty medicated. I wake to horrific sounds, and then can’t sleep. Get up. Make coffee because why not. Paint. My hands can’t hold the paint brush for more than a few minutes, so I’m switching hands a lot. This woodwork is going to take me forever!

Here’s the bitch. Studies have shown that therapy and medications are the best treatments for PTSD, but nothing cures it. PTSD CHANGES your brain. First, the area of your brain that helps you make decisions, the pre-frontal cortex, is altered in people with PTSD. It’s the part of your brain that calms you down when you realize you aren’t in danger.  Cognitive therapy can teach me how to put those memories away and find a mental place for them, but I personally believe I need to experience this in order to move past it. I know I’ll never forget, nor do I want to. But I DO want to get to the happy memories and move past the pain that we all endured.

Secondly, the part of your brain that alerts you to danger, the amygdala, triggers the “fight or flight” response and is there to ensure survival.  Those with PTSD tend to have an overactive response, making it hard to think rationally.

And finally, the part of your brain that regulates memories, the hippocampus, is working to remember the event accurately and make sense of it. People with PTSD often times find they cannot stop thinking about the traumatic event because they cannot make it make sense. It’s an involuntary obsession that you can’t stop.

I think it’s important to acknowledge this component during my journey. I think people use the term PTSD too lightly. It REALLY is a real condition. It’s MORE than having bad memories of an event or struggling with understanding something tragic. It’s more than “just” an emotional condition. It’s a mental AND physical manifestation of pain and trauma that’s so unbearable, that your brain changes to help you accommodate it all. And it’s lasting. It’s not the sadness that comes after any loss. It has very little to do with Michael being gone, and everything to do with watching him and caring for him while he died. It’s deeper than grief. It’s the real deal.

And along with everything else, I take this one moment at a time. I’m doing the best I can, and that’s all I can do. I tell myself this every single day. ❤

Peace,

~ Lisa

Thrown into the Ocean

Well, this week really feels like the week I’m back at work full force. I never really took complete time off; it was just time off of Facebook and the day-to-day operations. It doesn’t just feel like I was thrown into the pool. It feels like the ocean. 

wave

Board meeting, volunteer survey, lots of things that need to be addressed as a result of the aforementioned. 

It feels like everyone has forgotten. My entire life is different than it was just a few months ago. But for everyone else, life is normal. Everything is back to normal. People who are upset are not afraid to tell me so. One volunteer who quit this week told me I was an awful person, when I had been back at work for mere hours. Something that happened when I was away somehow became my fault. But I digress. 

It’s as if I’m expected to be the person I always was; I’m expected to say and do the exact right things. I am expected to have everyone’s answers and solve their problems. I’m expected to jump back into the rescue and make up for months of decline, and recruit new volunteers. People have needs that they are expressing to me. My sister sold her home and is asking for a lot of my suggestions and help in planning her move. My daughter is trying to sort things out in her life. And I don’t have the answers everyone seems to need from me. 

My health is very much up in the air. Nobody asks about it. Nobody talks about Michael. Nobody asks how I’m doing without him.  I can tell they’re tired of my story, tired of my situation, tired of feeling awkward about it, and no more “special” treatment is due me.

While everyone else is ready for Lisa to be back and everyone else expects complete normalcy, logic, and unwavering leadership from me, I’m nowhere near that place. I may never be. But regardless, we keep fighting.  All I can do is what I can do. I will do my best, but it requires more than that. Time will tell. I can’t speak for “them”, but MY vibe is that “they” all think I’ve had enough time. I need to get over it and move on. Life keeps moving and I better keep up. Or something like that. 

Here’s a newsflash. I don’t want to keep up. I want my husband back. I want the life we had. I want to eat dinner with him. I want to sit on the couch and do nothing with him. I don’t want this new reality without him, and I’m not the person I was before I lost him. I have no desire to be part of this post-Michael world. 

Nothing new with my health. I have a neurologist appointment next week and hopefully that will point me in the right direction. The neuro issues I’m having are tough and not improving.  Emotionally, I’m struggling. I saw Michael in Target the other day. He was across the store…I whipped my cart around to try and catch up to him, and ran smack-dab into my estranged son, his pregnant wife, and their children. I feel he was there to be my strength through that encounter. I’m feeling him around a lot lately. I can hear him warning me to keep an eye on myself and keep myself in check, and telling me not to take on more than I can deal with. 

I have to do better at saying no. Not “no”, as much as “I’m sorry, I can’t help you with this. You need to figure it out without me.” I guess I’m just bummed that I have to say it at all. 

Peace, 

~ Lisa