What Have I Been Up To?

I know I have been MIA after promising I wouldn't...

Aside from what this year has unexpectedly brought to all of us, my life was massively altered on August 13th.

Since that day, my focus and energy shifted into surviving, which, for the most part, placed my beautiful business on hold. If I am honest with myself, I would say that I have been living in survival mode for years, but 2020 made it super apparent for me.

Early this year we decided to put our sanctuary of 6 years - a house I fell in love with before stepping a foot in - for sale and try, once again, to move back to Puerto Rico, la isla que me vio nacer.

Due to COVID, we ended up listing our home a few months later than anticipated; but it finally hit the market on July 17th. From that moment, we were pretty much nomads. Moving first into an Airbnb for a few weeks, and then into a friend's home. A beautiful soul who allowed us to house/plant sit for them while they took a much needed month away from the city.

Once we got to there, things seemed to stabilize a bit for me. I had a place I knew I would be in for an entire month. I was able to focus on Karuna once again.

I felt inspired to create gorgeous malas, come up with essential oil blends, offer Reiki, all while participating in an 8-week course that would finally launch me into the coaching world. My passion has always been to create an environment where women would feel safe to go in, heal themselves, and thrive. I knew coaching would be an excellent vessel for that.

On the evening of August 12th, I was updating my site - adding more content, editing, and uploading the gorgeous pictures Brandi Morgan took of me just a few days before. That night I was in a state of flow, worked until almost 2 am! I was feeling so good about where Karuna was taking me.

Just a few hours after going to bed, my husband woke me up. It was around 4 am on August 13th. He said something was wrong with Akira, she couldn't stand, she was not responsive...

I can't describe what I felt when I saw her. What that entire day felt like. The only other thing I can compare it to is when Akira was run over by a car 14 years ago. It's like everything starts moving in slow motion. Almost like an out-of-body experience. My entire world crumbling around me, including the people in it, but I am somehow able to function. To experience it as I would a movie. A horrible film that makes you bawl and rage, but you are still somewhat separated from.

I go into GET IT DONE mode. Autopilot. FIGHT MODE. Back then in 2004, and back again in August, I was able to jump on the phone, find an emergency clinic, make and execute a plan. I did the driving all day, while Jorge stayed with her, hugging her, talking to her. Somehow, with my insides torn to pieces, I asked the questions, signed the paperwork. A blind and mad conviction in my gut pushing me forward, telling me she would pull through, just like she always did. If anyone could do it, it was her. Akira was the single most courageous, strong, hard-headed, gorgeous being I have ever had the honor to meet. She would pull through. For me. For us.

She would not give up. Neither would I. I couldn't. She couldn't. We were so close to moving out of San Antonio. So close to bringing her home. HOME.

Nothing made sense. "This is not happening. Not really. Not now." Played over and over in my head.

We were going home. Where she could live her last few years surrounded by family, where she could once more swim in the ocean she so loved. Where she could smell the salty air that was almost crack for her wild soul on a daily basis.

"This is not happening."

I drove her to two separate hospitals, where they did all the tests, everything that would help us understand what happened and how to move forward.

I knew in my heart what was happening, the entire time I knew, but I had to fight a little more, I had to make extra sure, because not now. Right? We were so close. Just not now.

But it was time. And on August 13th, on the 5th anniversary of us bringing Ajali home, my best friend/partner in crime/primary source of strength and courage/fur baby of 15 years transitioned out of this life after what was ruled a stroke.

Her passing made everything feel so small, irrelevant, and truthfully? Plain stupid. Akira was my North, my sun, my source of courage, my protector, she was my solar plexus and my heart. I get how unfair it is to give those roles to someone living outside of my own body, but she carried it anyways, never resenting me for it, always with grace, patience, loyalty, and honor.

For weeks I couldn't decide on anything, I didn't care if we moved or not, I couldn't eat, sleep, I felt like I was walking underwater. It hurt to breathe. Surviving it felt impossible.

We were so close...why now? Why this?

At some point, I did decide on something; I made a conscious decision to pause my grief/healing process and jump into the masculine energy of - just get shit done. Again. I had to. We received an offer on our house, we had to pack, figure out logistics, there were Uhauls to rent, plane tickets to buy.

I didn't shove the pain deeper. Didn't ignore it. Didn't pretend it wasn't there. I found a way, somehow, to walk with it without it tearing me down.

On October 1st, we closed on our house in San Antonio, and a couple of days later, we made our way to Florida, where I have been staying ever since.

I decided not to fly out to Puerto Rico with my husband and two dogs and instead take some much needed time alone to reconnect with myself, detoxify my body, nourish my mind, pamper my soul, and yes - to grieve.

During my time here, I've been spoiled rotten by my best friend, a chiropractor, who has done a ton of work to help bring my body back in alignment. I've seen her massage therapist a few times, who is equally brilliant, and has sped up the process.

I have done acupuncture treatments (gifts from my husband), an Ayurvedic cleanse by my favorite Ayurvedic practitioner Debby Andersen, I've received Kambo, practiced yoga, meditation, yummy sauna sessions, read and listened to a few books. I watch the sunset over the lake - so blessed that my apartment building has private access to such a magical body of water. I've done healing breathwork, goddess baths, journaled, cried, yelled, beat up a few pillows.

And almost every single morning - I pray. Something I didn't do much of in the past. I pray with her. To her. Through her. It is an honest, heartfelt, no filtered conversation. A conversation I know God hears and smiles at. Because if God played favorites, Akira would be on the top of that list.

I realize how fortunate I am to have the opportunity to do this for myself. Even though I did this for ME, I know my business, my clients, my family, everyone in my energy field will also benefit from the work I've done here. From this pause.

It is almost time to pack up again. To come out of this cocoon I've been blessed to experience here and fly back home.

I know my heart is still broken but I already sense a shift happening within; my soul is craving service again. I am starting to miss the conversations, how full my heart feels every time I have the honor to support a fellow goddess.

Once I am settled down, I plan to pick up where I left off before the world I knew shattered.

I am not sure when that will be.

I am not sure what it will look like.

The one thing I do know for sure is that I am not the same person I was back in August. In fact, I am still getting to know the new me.

I will continue to pray, to ask Akira to stay close by, to guide me, until I can trust this new person I am becoming, until I start to hear my own intuition once again.

And I know she will be with me. I know it with the same certainty I know that if God could play favorites, she would be at the top of that list.

PS:

I hope one day, I can write a memoir about her because she deserves it. Her legacy needs to be immortalized. She taught me so much, about life, love, courage, grief, despair, faith...

But for now, small bits here and there will have to do.

It is still too painful for me. Even with all the ways she has shown me she is still with me, I am grieving the monumental loss of not having her physically with me.

Today was the first time I could sit down and write about it. Yes, it cracked my wounds wide open again; yes I bawled for a good hour or more, but I was able to finish it, and I hope I made her proud.

Love you gorda!

"Eres mi luz, eres mi sol."