#35 The Adventure to Great Soap & How to Find it: In the end, have you lived A life well-lived?

Before my days of making soap and running a business full-time, I was a Pharmacy Technician from 2008-2021. If you've read past entries, you'll already know this. I don't know if I mentioned that from 2014-2021, it was in hospice care. It's important to mention, that I had little face-to-face contact with patients & families during these years. From the exposure to end-of-life hardships from my end were minimal, unlike the nurses who experience it in full. The position i did hold, I feel was just as important. I was the voice on the phone that fixed problems and heard moments of frustration mixed with anger, confusion, and hurt.

From 2008 to 2014, I worked in a retail pharmacy. I filled prescriptions and occasionally hand-prepared medications to sell to the public. I recall that some days, customers would come in and receive news about their health. Often, I was the first person they encountered after receiving both good and bad diagnoses. I became a beacon of congratulations, or a proverbial shoulder to lean on. Some days, I just sold prescriptions, and everyone went about their day. I realized while talking to a lady who was having a rough day, that she wasn't talking about a single day, but every day of her life. Now, I am not here to judge the severity of people's problems or to look down on them for what they consider struggles. Everyone has a personal level of struggle tolerance, and each is very different. I realized that even in my position, how I respond, and act can either make or break a moment for someone. When people are vulnerable, they can tell if they’re truly being heard or just being listened to out of politeness.

Moving forward to 2014, I transitioned into my years of hospice care as a pharmacy technician. Thankfully, my position meant I had little to no face-to-face contact with patients or families. When I first took the job, that was one of my biggest concerns—how do you navigate conversations with grieving families when you don’t know them? How can I offer any comfort when all I have are words? I worried about sounding empty or generic, especially when so many well-meaning phrases like “They’re in a better place” didn’t feel like they truly spoke to the raw, personal pain someone was experiencing. In those moments, such words can feel like a blanket too small to wrap around a heart that’s breaking.

Instead, I was often the voice on the other end of the phone when someone received a bill they couldn’t afford or was confused about the next steps in a difficult journey. My job was to help solve the problems, to offer practical solutions. But beyond that, I learned that I couldn’t always offer the perfect words to ease someone’s grief. What I could do was listen, validate their frustration, and provide clarity when the world felt uncertain. My role became one of showing up as a steady presence, even when I couldn’t provide comfort in the way I wished to. I made it my mission to be the kind of person who helped make a hardship feel a little less like a mountain someone had to climb alone.

With each memory of their loved one they shared, and every dollar I made disappear from their responsibility, it slowly became a mirror of how I want to live my life, and in the end how I want to be remembered by others when it's my time to go. For 7 years, I heard stories and reviewed case files. Some days, I took a hard look at my life and what I was doing with it. Was I ensuring every day was being fully lived? No. Was I making sure that I was mindful for the blessings in my life? no. Like the lady years before, I was taking my day-to-day and shoveling it as one big string of woes, disappointments, and hardships. I was letting the emotions of my work fill my boat with water.

While my role in hospice care was meaningful, it also pushed me to reflect on the fragility of life and the importance of living fully. Every day in that environment reminded me how unpredictable life can be, and how essential it is to embrace what we have while we have it. The work, though rewarding in many ways, was also heavy—centered on loss and the process of saying goodbye.

In a way, that experience became a catalyst for my own desire to live more intentionally. I began to ask myself, How do I want to live, knowing that life is fragile and time is never guaranteed? The awareness of life’s brevity pushed me to pursue something that felt more aligned with my own sense of fulfillment—something that allowed me to express creativity, spread joy, and offer comfort in a different way.

That chapter sparked a shift in me. I began to ask: If life is so uncertain, how do I want to live it? My soapmaking and small business journey became the answer. It allowed me to move from offering comfort in moments of sorrow to encouraging self-care in times of health. A handcrafted bar of soap may seem simple, but to me, it represents something greater—an invitation to slow down, savor the moment, and find joy in the everyday.

Now, my goal is to live with intention and fun and to become someone who inspires others to do the same—whatever that looks like for them. Let my adventures, my work, and yes, even my soap, serve as a reminder that each day is a gift. It’s okay to make big Pie in the sky plans. It’s okay to live like you’re the main character. Because you are—and your story is worth telling.

Will your story be that of a life well lived?

About the photo: Just me and my #1 girl, living our best lives on the banks of the Chassahowitzka River. Yes, we really do swim where the gators roam—welcome to Florida! 🐊🌴 This little spot is only reachable by boat or float, which makes it feel like our own secret adventure. Is it a tiny bit wild? Absolutely. But that’s part of the fun. I’ll always choose to make memories.