I’ll be in the fetal position if you need me

Hello readers,

Welcome to the wonderful and wacky world of being smacked in the face with the suckitude of loss at random times for no real reason.

Yesterday was a long day, I had to go to court almost 2 hours away to see the dude who robbed me and stole my car, waited for hours only to be told there was an extension. Not a big deal I have come to expect this nonsense here in the DR. Got home and was talking to a friend about plans this weekend. Was tired so I logged off and went to bed early-ish.

And woke up so many times I lost count. Not because I woke up, but because I woke up in tears. Inconsolable sadness. Missing Michael. I’d drift off and start to dream about him, and then wake up and sob myself back to sleep. On it went until 4:15 when I finally got out of bed.

Checked my emails and learned that someone very special to me lost her battle with cancer yesterday and is with the angels.

So many thoughts…here we go on the random ride that is my brain.

On death:

  • Why do we feel bad for the dead? “Oh poor Michael, why did he have to die?” is something I’ve heard more times than I can count. I believe it was a gift to him for being a superb human being. Living this life is not fun or easy. The good ones are just that. Too good for this hell.
  • When are we as a society going to give a shit about the survivors? I literally can’t believe that I was told to get over my grief. It’s 2019, assholes. Read an article. Learn. Or shut your mouth.

On being victimized:

  • I was at court yesterday and sitting very close to a person who has wronged me. There was no pretense of friendship, no feelings of “I better not say anything because I don’t want to start a big thing”. Is there a difference in levels of wronging someone? Is his robbery worse than or better than a rape? What about kicking a dog? What about being just a shitty person and intentionally hurting someone? Where does that fall on our spectrum? In my world, there are no levels. You wrong someone, you wronged them. You hurt someone, you APOLOGIZE. You don’t justify.
  • Let me be clear. I’ve been wronged. In a big way. In the DR. I’m not sure how to talk about it without stooping to the level of those who have wronged me, so I’m choosing not to talk about it. I will just say that gaslighting is a very real thing. 

And finally, on holidays.

I don’t remember last year. I know I was completely alone on Thanksgiving. I remember this because it was my first real consideration of suicide. I don’t remember Christmas or New Year’s or anything else.

Thanksgiving was a special time for Michael and me. None of our kids seemed to really want to participate in our lives very much, so we always made it our own. We’d offer the open house meal and a couple of kids would stop by for a bit, but the rest of the 4 day weekend was ours. We made mexican food and binge-watched shows. We drank mimosas for breakfast. We always fit a date or two in there, and really just enjoyed each other’s company. It was OUR four days every year to just be together and form our own traditions. Obviously that era ended abruptly, as the very first Thanksgiving weekend without him I was desperately alone for 4 days. Sure, I got the pity invites but sitting at a table with a bunch of strangers who know me as the woman whose husband just died was not my idea of pleasantry.

And now it’s coming. And so is Christmas. So are the traditions, the love, the merriment. This is my first holiday season away from anyone in my former life, and I’m dreading Christmas most of all. I wish I could cancel it. I wanted to bring my daughter down, but she wants to come in January instead. I’m dreading it all.

Any maybe all of this is why I was waking up from dreams of him and sobbing. I miss him. I’ll never NOT miss him. I’ll never be able to joke with him or feel his arms around me. I’ll never get another trademark Michael hug, or watch Breaking Bad with him. I’ll never smell him, as the smell has left all of his tshirts I kept. I’ll never hear him. He’s just. Gone.

And I’m giving myself permission to curl up into a ball.  Judge if you want. I don’t care. This is my process. MINE. And I need to curl up in a ball and cry today. Not for Michael. He’s in no pain. I’m gonna cry for ME. Because I need to.


Over and out. And as always,


~ Lisa


One thing leads to another

Hello friends!

I was gearing up to post all kinds of photos of the house (I’ve been here 2 weeks now – yay!) and updates about my dogs. I was going to chat about some philosophy kinda stuff.

Then the wave hit and it got bigger and bigger. Then, I wasn’t going to post about it because I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer. THEN, I realized hey…this is a blog about being a widow for shit’s sake. So tonight I’m writing about being a widow.

Can I just say, it SUCKS being a widow. It really does. The person I loved most, the person I trusted most, the person who knew me best has been just erased from this world. What the fuck? Sometimes it still stops me in my tracks.

I had a great day yesterday. Got my hair done, went to lunch, rearranged and kicked ass in the house and I love my living room right now. Put almost everything away where it will live for the time I live in this house. Had a good night’s sleep. Doggies and I all slept in until almost 8am! Had a lovely morning and was looking forward to going to trivia this afternoon.

And then out of the blue, for no reason I can remember, I thought…”where’s my passport?”. Realized I couldn’t remember the last time I saw it, or if I EVER saw it at this house. What followed was a panicked, frustrating frenzy. I looked in every drawer, every piece of paper, every notebook, every nook and cranny. Went through old purses. Looked in empty suitcases. Nowhere.

Now, there’s nothing I can do about it today. And it’s not a tragedy. It can be replaced. But dammit. It’s here. I couldn’t have really LOST it.

I went to trivia and it was fun. There were a couple of triggers for me, but I’m getting much better at not letting the triggers overtake me, or at least not for long. I worked through them and maintained for the most part.

Came home and started frantically searching again. Maybe it appeared in that drawer since the last time I looked? I don’t know.

And then I got pissed. At him. I’ve noticed it a few times over the last couple of weeks, maybe when I started moving. I am pissed at my dead husband. And that feels like shit. I’m pissed that he left me. I’m really pissed that because he left me, I ended up in a far away place experiencing some pretty soul-crushing shit. I ended up in a big empty house, setting up my own place for the first time.

Now, I’m making some wonderful friends. People who I thought were my friends aren’t actually, and that was and is a FAST lesson here. There are still things I’m not ready to talk about that have happened here. I’m learning every day, and the Facebook unfollow/ hide options are becoming my best friend.

The flip side of my life (there’s always a flip side) is that I am feeling so much more like me. Being in a house that I chose, being able to sleep with windows open, being away from the drama that was turning me into a person I didn’t recognize or like very much, and just giving myself time without a bunch of pressure have all been really good for me. I just needed time. And kindness.

I just got word that a good friend is coming to visit me in January. This feels amazing too. She will be the first person that has made an effort to actually get here to see me. And that’s pretty special. I’ve always been the person going to see everyone else. Whether it was a transport run or getting on a plane or driving, I have always been the person who visits. So it’s nice that someone wants to see me enough that they are coming to ME. ❤

I’m supposed to have court this week for the douchebag that robbed me. Supposed to, meaning I’ve gotten no confirmation of that. I’m taking my second round of medications tonight. Nathan my foster boy is getting neutered on Tuesday thank goodness!

And my self-help project of the week is letting shit go. I have to stop obsessing or fixating on things. I’m finding more and more that I do obsess, and I think it’s because I don’t have anyone to balance me out. The life of being single at 51 for the first time in your life; being used to having someone to come home to or talk with and bounce ideas off. Knowing that even if people are asses, it’s okay because you have your biggest fan at home. I’m getting there. It’s a slow walk but let me tell you, it has changed me. I have re-evaluated and re-prioritized literally every aspect of my life. Every relationship, every task, every decision. I’m driven by something different now than I have ever been before. Peace in my life. I’m just not capable of playing games or participating in anything or with anyone that isn’t genuine.

I’ve been struggling in my buddhist practices lately, not really following it or listening to myself.  I haven’t done yoga in a few days because I am in so much pain! But that’s stupid because I can modify the yoga. I have been trying to meditate but stillness isn’t coming easily to me right now. It’s like anything, when you don’t practice regularly you lose progress!

My MN house closes tomorrow. And then I don’t ever have to think about it again. I’ve decided to make the most of where I live and get some dental work done here (very reputable and cheap dentistry). I’m also going to get Dominican health insurance (once I find my effing passport) and find myself a rheumatologist. And finally, my goal is to really get myself in check nutritionally. I have a lot of work to do.

I’m not mad at him anymore. And I still have to find my damn passport.

PS – here are some pics of the house 🙂

From the front door
Look right and there’s the kitchen and the stairs going up
My tiny, so ugly it’s cute Dominican kitchen
Living room in progress. The couch is facing the yard and pool 
From the living room. To the right is an open deck. Left is a partially enclosed sunroom. 
Open deck to the right with the world’s most uncomfortable chairs ever!
The covered area where I have my morning coffee. 
Decor is coming out
Always the sign that I’m home. ❤ 
The pool tiles I mentioned in a previous blog! Almost done descaling them. 
Saw a cruise ship the other day! How fun is that? 


~ Lisa

The Brain Behind this Operation

I’ve never written a blog (well at least I have never PUBLISHED a blog that was written) in the midst of a manic or frenetic state. Many times this state is physical like when I built a shed in 3 hours or redecorated my entire house in a couple of days, but it’s also mental. My brain just bounces. I probably could stop it, but I don’t. I give it time to sort out and if I’m ready for bed and it’s still going, I take a Xanax and fall asleep. NOT a panic attack, just a pretty intense period of insane brain activity going a million directions. A million things on my mind. And it’s all happening at once. So tonight I’m actually going to publish it – a live-time insight into my manic brain., as it happens.


There’s a gecko in my kitchen. He scares the shit out of me every time I walk in! I am not afraid of geckos. This guy is just unusually big and out of the corner of my eye it freaks me out.

The house walls are so dirty. For starters, everything in the house except for the kitchen is stark white. Not eggshell, not ivory, not linen. WHITE. You know, like an asylum? White doors, white floors, white walls, white banisters. WHITE (except creepy room #1 with the chalkboard wall). And did I mention they are dirty? I need to paint. I wonder what color? I would like a cool color since it’s so warm here. But I don’t know what that means. It is all an open space so it will be a lot of the same color with maybe an accent here or there. Gray won’t work with the floor because the tiles have a sepia-type hue to them. So I was thinking of going with a turquoise/chocolate brown color scheme, BUT a lot of the furniture is black wood. And what am I supposed to do with that funky space beneath the stairs?

I’m going to try and build up some freelance writing gigs! I REALLY hope I can pick up some work to help pay my rent 😊. I’m an experienced writer and my previous experience includes being Managing Editor of WestCoast Magazine, Senior copywriter/ Social Media coordinator for Regency Beauty Institute (National HQ writing for nationwide, not specific campuses), and too many freelance gigs to count. TOO MANY. I know AP and Chicago style, and I am also really experienced in helping establish brand voice and presence. I know marketing and I am just kind-of a kick-ass person to have on your side. So, if you or someone you know needs some help with writing copy, marketing collateral, articles, or consult/writing to establish your brand voice, hit me up.  😊 My Brain is for Hire 😊 Obviously it would need to be a remote position, but I’m super responsive. I would love to stay in the non-profit sector but I’m also really open to a change of scenery. My writing style is surprisingly adaptable. So hit me upppp!

There are a million other fleeting things in my brain right now:

  • Why isn’t Nathan eating.
  • BabyFaye is sad because Ranger Girl is spending the night at Debbie’s tonight.
  • How am I going to get the pool scratches out that are underwater? The ones above water I can pumice away but that won’t work underwater. I wonder if I can just get a blue underwater epoxy and touch up the pool stairs myself?
  • I can definitely get a screen kit and fix the screens. My body is so sore and I have zero stamina. Maybe tomorrow.
  • I have to remember to go get a gas can and gas for the lawn mower tomorrow. Oh then maybe I will do the screens the next day. Thursday, yeah. No, Thursday is Give to the Max Day and I do a vigil all day online to steer the campaign as needed. So maybe Friday. Yeah, Friday. I’ll do the screens.
  • I need to get my hair done.
  • I hope the house in MN is “broom-swept”.
  • Wow the house is no longer mine after Monday. I’m no longer a homeowner. It’s a weird feeling! Not good or bad. Just surprisingly in the front of my head a lot.
  • I hope the internet guy can get that router I want so I can get US Netflix.
  • I hope I pick up some writing work. Because that would be cool. I can sit on my patio or my balcony and see the ocean and write. Come ON.
  • Give to the Max Day is Thursday. For those who don’t know, this is an annual day of Giving for non-profits in MN. I hope we do well. I don’t know what to expect as we are raising money for a whole new purpose this year! To help the dogs of the Dominican Republic.
  • I’d REALLY love to get into marine life…I wonder if there’s a marine rescue? No I am not qualified for that…
  • I am GOING to get the zika virus I just KNOW it. And those noseeums? My legs are on fire. I wonder if you can scratch yourself insane…
  • House sells next week. I need a car. It feels amazing to have money in the bank for a few days between these transactions. 🙂

So there you have it! My brain right now. Fun? Scary? What’s your feedback?

In other news.

My driveway gate has been all messed up and tonight I think it’s FINALLY resolved. The gate is a double gate with a right and a left side that part in the center and open inward as you come into the driveway. Which means two separate hydraulic motors, one for each door. Well, I had a gate guy come to “tighten a bracket” last week and that turned into him fabricating a new one and that turned into the hydraulic things being out of whack and that turned into FOUR DAYS at my house and that turned into 4 days of my dogs being stuck inside on hot days, barking and going crazy. It sucked! But tonight…I think we FINALLY have it.

I’ve been descaling the pool. It was SO BAD. I will post before and after pics when it’s done. At first I thought the the tiles were ombre. From white to turquoise to green. NOPE. LOL They’re supposed to be all white. So I have been HAND scraping the lime/calcium off with a flathead screwdriver and a metal spatula :D!

I started my pills and I am SO. SICK. I remember why I stopped taking them in MN. The positive effects of methotrexate take 6-8 weeks to show. Unfortunately, the side effects do not. But I’m going to give this a chance.

The DR house is dirty and needs a LOT of work. BUT…I love it! I love where I am, the view is my constant therapy, I’m close to everything I need, the dogs are really happy with a great big yard, I’m really happy feeling safe. And I do love a good project. I had the gardener trim down a LOT of the shrubs and trees, one in particular has opened up the ocean view from the ENTIRE house now. You don’t have to go upstairs anymore. You can see the ocean from my entire downstairs. 😊

I’ve had some really sad moments recently and I’ve stumbled upon a few triggers of memories that caught me off-guard, but I’m doing a really good job of getting back up. I’m not staying down when I get knocked down. I’m still not really ready to talk about what is happening here. I’m doing fine. I love it here and I don’t want to leave. I rented this house for one year. If I still love it, I’ll stay. If I’m not happy, I will move back to the US, or maybe Mexico. Who knows! I am finding my peace and enjoying the house, I’m getting my things trickled down to me in small boxes, thanks to my friend Pat. It’s not a LOT of things in the big picture, but for example today I received a box that contained those clear lucite bins for makeup brushes and toothpaste and stuff. Plastic storage baskets too. Just stuff you like to have around and can be put to REALLY good use here.

And that, if you’ve stuck with me long enough, is my brain. I am used to the ticker-tape, and if it really bothers me I can get out of my own head, this isn’t uncontrollable. I like to let it run its course because the act of solving things and being able to put them to bed, lets ME go to bed. This isn’t new or anything to do with widowhood. It is just how I cope. When I feel helpless or that I have no control, I go into hyper mode and take on tasks because I can control that. I can control how perfectly the pool will be descaled. I can control when the screens go up. Baby steps but I’m in control of SOMETHING.  And I have solved many, many problems and come up with many, many great ideas working this way. It’s just who I am.

Thanks for reading if you’ve made it this far. I promise photos are coming. I’ve been on the couch for two days and not up for taking pics.



Cold November

Wow. The beginning of the end of this chapter in my life. The MN chapter. This is was our home.


The whole sale of the house has been a pretty okay process. It was a hard decision but I haven’t been struggling since I listed it. Until tonight when I needed to dig up some paperwork. Paperwork in the dreaded file.


What’s in this file of fun? Oh, nothing much. Just a play-by-play of my husband’s death. Social Security stuff, Death Certificates (EVERYONE told me to order a LOT and now I can wallpaper a room with them), Mortgage Info, cremation forms. The receipt for the Lyons Club where we held his memorial and yes even the receipts for the food and desserts. The pieces of his existence, summarized in a purple fucking file folder.

The other dreaded file is in a dreaded box with everything from his memorial. I’m not going there.

Anyway, this week has been HECTIC. I LOVE the house but it’s a lot of work and needs a lot of work done right off the bat – which is okay, I’m getting it for cheap. But that requires workmen. I needed new water heaters, internet, major lawn work, gate repaired. I also have a house manager-type person who feels the need to have a lengthy phone call about each one of these things, and if she cannot reach me, she comes over. Each one of these is an hours-long ordeal with the dogs barking and me not being able to catch a break, and I realize. My physical deterioration is rapid. Just ONE day like that is wiping me out, but several in a week have me completely and utterly fried. I woke up this morning not being able to bend my hands and that never improved. All over body pain that’s more than just aches. PAIN. Add to that, we are trying to wrap some things up for the rescue in MN and that’s not going super smoothly. I’m also dealing with people’s emotions and thoughts on MY choices and how those choices affect THEM, and a lot of emotions about what is happening here that I have chosen not to write a lot about. Someday.

It’s no secret that stress wreaks havoc on a person but when you have an auto immune disease, it’s especially important to manage your stress levels. I need things to slow down. I need to rest.

I’m feeling overwhelmed. My house sale in MN is closing in 10 days. My rescue is clearing everything out of the space we worked so hard to get into. Pieces of my life. Pieces of our history together. Our home goods sold. Our rescue stuff sold. Our home sold.

It all feels like it never existed. Like we never existed. When he first died, I hoped it was a nightmare I would wake from. And now it feels like a dream that never happened in the first place. 😥

And now I’m in a place I love, but I regret coming. I am here and I will make this work and I will be happy. But knowing now what I didn’t know then, I wouldn’t have come. I wouldn’t have found myself thousands of miles away from anyone who loves me, or from getting a prescription for the pain management I need. I wouldn’t have trusted people the way I did. I would have honored my gut to not make any decisions for a year. That doesn’t mean I am miserable here. I’m not. I just miss being around people who know and accept me and who love me. I have a few really kind friends here, and I am thinking about how I’m going to spend the rest of my life. It’s scary and exciting at once. The one beautiful thing about having no roots anywhere is that I now have the freedom to go anywhere I please.

For now, it’s here. Missing him and watching tiny pieces of our history and my heart blow away into the wind.

~ Lisa

The Shanty Part I/ Other life stuff

Good evening. 🙂 Settling into the house continues, but tonight I’ll take you on the Creepy tour.

There are lots of quirks in the house that make it fun. I’ve been finding relics around the place that indicate perhaps an older woman lived here. And of course the creepy stuff just adds to the mystique. lol

Where to start. Let’s start with the front of the house, and the room right here.

From the outside, you’d think it would be lovely. Ocean view, nice windows and a cross breeze. But nah, it feels very eerie and creepy. It’s got an old armoire in it and nothing else. It finally occurred to me last night, I need a rocking chair and a mannequin because this is clearly where Norman Bates’ mom should be sitting.

Then there’s another creepy room where I’ve decided all the ugly stuff belongs. There’s no light in the room, the wall is chalkboard, and I don’t know why else but it’s creepy. And so is the stuff I’m moving into it. How many fake plants does one need, really? And how about the creepy all plastic grandfather clock?


Then there’s the cellar under the waterfall. Great place for hiding bodies.

Creepy Cellar1
See the white stairs next to Cass? Going underground?


Creepy Cellar
Yes it’s as creepy as it looks. It’s dark and damp and loud. It’s where the pool equipment is. 

I guess the last creepy thing, is how many opportunities there are to crack your face open. Like, a LOT of opportunities. So stay tuned for future posts of me cracking my face open.

The bathrooms have steps UP. INTO the bathroom. Great for midnight face-cracking-opening. 
Master Bath deathtrap. Who does this? 
I call these “the invisible steps”. Because, look. 
Another favorite! This is at the top of my staircase. 16 steps of hard tile down from here. Great for early mornings carrying Bella down the steps. Commence face-cracking!


In other news, today was a big day for me. I announced publicly that I am no longer going to be leading my rescue Good Karma, and that the DR rescue is taking operations over. It was a hard announcement to write and I was so touched and surprised with the most powerful, kind, loving emails from supporters and adopters, most of whom I never met. I’ll talk more about those soon.

From my volunteers: nothing. Silence. I poured my heart out to them. Explained how difficult things have been. Silence.

Things in the DR are going well for me. I’m super happy in the creepy quirky house and I will show you the beautiful things about it tomorrow. If I don’t crack my face open before then. 😉


~ Lisa



Poison – Round 2/ More Lessons

Well, I am IN MY NEW HOUSE. And I LOVE it. I have been discovering so many quirky and creepy and funky and fun things! I keep wanting to talk about it with you all, but I forgot to take photos today! I promise, next blog. Pics and stories. Almost everything is put in its place, and things are already feeling like home.

First, poison pills. 

My RA is OUT OF CONTROL. I am having a HARD time with basic tasks. My hands are swollen and painful. I have new nodules forming on my fingers, elbows, and toes almost daily. I have Achilles tendinitis or they are torn. It’s extremely painful. I am also experiencing a rapid deterioration of my vision and have to wear glasses almost all the time now as opposed to just reading or computer work. A quick teleconference with my rheumatologist resulted in him telling me I need to get stateside and get the biologic drugs, but that’s just not in the cards for me. Getting these drugs is a whole nightmare that I couldn’t maneuver before, and I’m not spending $1000 to go to MN and be put through all the hoops again. The biologic isn’t available here, but the chemo drugs are. The only thing that has ever helped my pain is Vicodin and marijuana. Neither of which can be gotten here.

I’m supposed to take them in unison, but the poison pills are better than no treatment.

The poison pills I take 7 pills, one day a week. Then I have a few days of sickness, recover and then start all over again. The pills hit me pretty hard last time, so I’m hoping things go better this time. I was going to start tonight, but I have to get folic acid for the mouth sores I will get and I didn’t get that yet. So, it looks like next Sunday I will start.  And then the fun begins.

More Lessons

After 15 months, finally. I am going to focus on my healing. Not legalities, not cleaning things out, not paperwork, not rescue, not relocating, not family. My healing. I have been desperately seeking peace and the ability to allow myself to just BE. To HEAL.

To that end, I have resigned as Executive Director of the rescue here for that among other reasons.

It would be really easy to be devastated that I uprooted my life, sold all my possessions to do so, and ended up on an island far from anyone I know only to learn that the rescue and I are not good fits for one another. I was devastated for a few days. But I climbed out of that and now I feel freer, lighter, and better. And proud.

In every experience good or bad, if you’re a halfway evolved human being, you’ll learn something from it.  As I sit and ponder things, I realize I am still learning so much about MYSELF at age 51. Things I wouldn’t have known had I not been experienced them. And it’s really kinda interesting.

For starters, I learned that no matter how nice a place is, I won’t be happy in a house that I didn’t choose. I need lots of windows, I need a view of something, and I need to be close to nature on some level, even if it means gardening and making my own nature. I need to be able to open windows and I need to feel safe. I need to decorate my way, live by my schedule, and be able to adapt to my physical condition.

I’ve learned that I’m introverted and I don’t need to be judged or “fixed”. I’m happiest at home and I truly enjoy being alone. I don’t need constant company, entertainment, or companionship.


I’ve learned that nobody better EVER fuck with my process or criticize my grief. Not ONE SINGLE PERSON is entitled to fuck with my memories, my marriage, my husband, or MY process. And if they do, they are gone in a millisecond. Switch flipped, no going back. Done. Like, seriously. I didn’t know how strongly I felt about this. But I do. I love my husband. I will always love my husband. And he will always be dead. People that can’t deal with that or who are stupid enough to think they can judge it, well they can go to hell.

I’ve learned that my beliefs and principles run deep and while I’m always open to other ways of doing things, my core values are just that. At my core. I can’t and won’t look the other way when something truly wrong is happening. I won’t bear witness to cruelty and just figure it’s not my problem. I won’t participate in games or popularity contests.

I’ve learned that one minute spent trying to prove your worth to others is one minute too long.


All this learning is exhausting. 😉  And so I am off to relax for the evening. Tomorrow I will take photos of the house and then I’ll share a new blog with you guys to show off the shanty!

Peace, and BE KIND to yourselves. ❤

~ Lisa


Island in the Sun

Hola, friends 🙂

The past few days have been busy, productive, and emotional – both up and down. In other words, a typical Thursday LOL

I’ll start now and work backwards a little bit. I had spoken of the rescue powerhouse who passed away just a few days ago and how badly I felt for his wife. Well there was some controversy about a nonprofit organization raising funds in Daniel’s name for their own benefit, and without permission from his wife. When it was confirmed that Jenny could not at this time approve of any fundraisers in his name, I raised the issue.

This made me not popular. It was ugly on Facebook. I was proud of myself. I didn’t ever get personal. I didn’t attack anyone. I raised the issue objectively, that it wasn’t cool to hit people up for their own gain when he has just passed away and the world is still in shock. And against his wife’s wishes. I raised it quietly and privately, and when that didn’t work I went social with it.  I got a little burned at the stake, but I held on. I fought for what was right and held my stance. I was advocating for a widow! I wasn’t the widow who NEEDED an advocate – I WAS the advocate.  I was strong.  I didn’t waver. Because as sick as it sounds, it MEANS something to me that SOMEONE else is in this hell. I wouldn’t wish it on ANYONE. And I can’t make it better. But I can at least understand no questions asked.

And that my friends is the ONLY silver lining in this. This whole shitty fucked-up situation. The friends. The friends you make are fast and strong. No, friendships don’t need to focus on loss and in fact they don’t eventually, but when someone can truly connect with you because they have been there, it is an instant and unbreakable bond. When someone just understands that sometimes you may tear up at a song or a memory,  and be okay a few minutes later. Someone who understands when you decline an invite or that there will always be bad days mixed in with the good. Someone who says “omg, this is so fucked up” and doesn’t try to convince you otherwise. One of my best friends texted me shortly after Michael passed away and said “Dude I cannot believe how much your life sucks.” It was the sweetest thing anyone had said to me because it was PURE, no bullshit. Someone who will answer the phone no matter when, and listen. Someone to not fix anything.  It’s a silent vow of compassion and trust. It’s a promise never to judge or freak out. It’s unsaid. But you know. It’s the Club Nobody Wants to Join.

I officially signed all the paperwork for the shanty. I;ll be getting my keys and moving soon!! This also came with lots of questions and theories, and the plain honest truth is that I really wanted a place that was “mine”. Yes I am renting it, but I needed something to feel like mine. Like it wasn’t given to me. It’s not because I’m not grateful, it’s because I’m embarrassingly so. I am not a taker. I am fiercely independent, sometimes to my detriment. It’s not intentional. I don’t even think I realized it until I got to the DR. In retrospect, it felt like the entire floor, the entire earth, had dropped out from under me. The home I worked to create was all behind me. The rescue that had stolen my life for the last 6 years, left behind for my friendunteers to run for me while I figured shit out. The deck we built. The plans for the basement. The plans for renovating the master bedroom. Shit. The plans for our life. Together. Everything. Gone in a span of weeks. And then my fucking house gets broken into and I still haven’t recovered from it. I still have no car.   Which has been very difficult because we live quite a ways out of town.  I am renting a car now for one month. It’s not a long term solution but it’s what you gotta do.

I should have waited a few months to jump into intense work. Because right about now, I’m hitting my stride. I’m in a damn good place. I feel SOOOO excited to move to the shanty. I am sharp and motivated and sleeping well and hanging out with friends. I’m doing physical therapy with a sweetheart dog and seeing amazing results. I’m SO damn proud of myself for advocating for TWO new widows: Jenny and ME. I needed space and I needed a reboot. It wasn’t easy, but I took it and stepped away from heavy responsibility. I’m hitting my stride and preparing marketing for both rescues, I’ve got my network out there trying to hook me up with some freelance writing gigs, and yes. I’m working on a book. Where it will lead, I don’t know. I have two amazing foster dogs that I’m working with. I’m getting creative again. It’s a good place. I have recovered my zen.

Silhouette young woman practicing yoga lotus position, meditating, beach
I’m doing yoga every day again. This is not me, but pretend it is. I don’t have a photographer to take my pic at sunrise nor do I do yoga on the sand but otherwise this is totally accurate. 

I am looking into getting Michael’s guitars here to me. I left them there in capable hands, but I am really wanting them with me. The man had the patience of a saint (obviously – he lived with me). I was trying to learn guitar for all 14 years we were together. He was trying to teach me and I never ever ever got it. EVER.  He tried the simplest songs. The simplest. I can’t read music, My fingers don’t bend like that to get the right chords, blah blah blah. So finally, finally. Finally! Finally he taught me a song. It has 4 guitar chords and I still can’t get the timing LOL! But..we discovered that I’m a listener/learner? I hear the song and I can duplicate the notes that way. Same with the piano. I don’t know. Don’t ask me why. LOL

Anyway…this is the song he taught me. He would play the electric and I did acoustic (because of the aforementioned 4-chord thing). I messed up the timing because my fingers weren’t listening to my brain.

And then I switched to Guitar Hero. 😀


~ Lisa