Not a legal obligation. Not a morbid exercise. An act of love.
I didn't plan for my husband to die at 56.
Nobody does. That's sort of the whole problem.
Two years ago, we were having a blast on vacation. 10-mile hikes. Laughing at pubs. And then my husband passed out face-first on a dirty sidewalk in the Netherlands. We flew home and found out he had stage 4 lung cancer.
Within months, I was navigating ICU decisions, insurance mazes, and new responsibilities at home — while using my hypnosis & coaching skills to help him manage the endless rounds of needle sticks and scary procedures.
I was doing everything I knew how to do.
I had dozens of tools to help us manage the emotional side, but I didn't know the first thing about the parts of our lives he managed, like taxes and oil changes. I needed a way to capture what we both did so that if one of us died, the other would be okay.
That's why I created Treasure Map.
If you share a life with someone and you've "divided and conquered" tasks - this is for you. Or if you live alone and you need to leave a clear map in case someone needs to take over - this is for you.
Here's what nobody tells you about losing someone: the grief isn't the only thing that overwhelms you. It's the administrative avalanche.
Insurance forms. Accounts to change to your name. Cars to retitle. IRAs to rollover. Learning about step-ups. Lawn care to hire. Making sure bills aren't paid on closed credit cards. Beneficiaries to change. Estate taxes to file…
Modern Widows Club estimates 500+ hours of complex paperwork, and that feels about right to me. I made 12+ calls to get a single tax form. And if I hadn't created a system, I would have lost tens of thousands of dollars.
(not an exaggeration. I fought for a $2,300 refund from Amex, $4K payment from Social Security, found a missing $77k bank account…)
Grief is also physical. People don't talk about that enough. Your body is under intense, prolonged stress as it adjusts to your new reality. That can show up as higher blood pressure, weaker immune system, insomnia, increased heart attack and stroke risks.
The brain fog is real. It took so much effort to do really basic things that I took to writing down basic todo lists like "eat breakfast."
This happens in part because you're so stressed and in part because your brain has to learn a new reality without them. Your brain spends years learning exactly what your life looks like. And then suddenly — it's wrong. You roll over at night expecting to hear them breathe. You make coffee expecting them to wander in. You pick up your phone to text them something dumb.
Over and over. Dozens of times a day.
That's exhausting in a way that's almost impossible to explain unless you've been in it. And THEN someone emails that your car insurance has lapsed because the auto pay didn't go through.
This is why Treasure Map includes Emotional First Aid — four tools you practice until they're automatic. So on the worst day of your life, you don't have to remember to use them. You just do.
And if you use them early — in those first raw hours — something important happens. The memories don't set as hard. Your brain files that day with some safety woven in alongside the grief. Less heaviness to carry around. Less ambush.
Feeling the grief. Moving forward. Repeat. It's not pretty. But it works. And having the practical side handled means you can actually do it — instead of spending your grief energy hunting for a policy number.
People will tell you there's nothing you can do to prepare for losing someone. I'm here to tell you that's not true. You can't prevent the pain and the feelings of loss (and you wouldn't want to, that would make you a robot). But you can absolutely prepare for it. And I can say from the other side — it made a difference I could feel.
Having tools and my information organized increased my capacity to hold all of the sadness I was feeling without letting it shut me down. I stayed connected to my friends and let them help me. I made funeral arrangements and paid the estate taxes. That's not nothing.
That's the combination. That's the magic.
If you're reading this and one of you handles the money and one of you handles the house — or some version of that — this is for you. You both have only have half the map.
And if you live alone — someone is going to have to step in someday. Right now they have none of the map. I built this for you too.
One of my coaching clients lives in a storm zone. Storm was coming. Everyone was frozen with "what do we do now" paralysis.
And she said: "Get in the car. I've got water, cash, and a room for you."
And she got her family, dog & a couple neighbors out.
That's me. That's what I do. I've already packed the bag. I just need you to get in the car.
I believe preparedness is the most loving thing you can do for yourself and the people you love. It's better than flowers or a snazzy beach vacation.
I believe that putting this off has a cost — and you're not the only one paying it. Most people assume their loved ones will "figure it out." They might. But it'll cost them time away from family and their jobs, money, and the kind of stress that makes your hair thin. You can prevent that.
I believe you need a system that reflects YOUR life. The reason those binders don't get filled out isn't laziness. It's because they're full of sections that have nothing to do with your actual life or are structured in a confusing way. Of course, nobody finishes them.
I believe in community. People who do this work set off a quiet chain reaction. They get their own affairs in order, and then they nudge their parents, their siblings, their best friend. Nobody ends up scrambling. Less drama. More love.
I believe in Treasure Map because preparing for death prepares you for life. I know that sounds like a bumper sticker. But I lived it. Getting my affairs in order didn't just protect my family — it made me clearer about what I have, what I want, and what I'm still here to do.
I want this for you too.
And because nobody should have to ask their intubated husband for a password.