Conflicted

There is a strange and somewhat unexplainable experience that has become normal for me...I am consistently and constantly conflicted. Always. Or maybe not always, just sometimes. See? I'm conflicted. I've even wanted to write about it for some time, but then didn't want to write about it because I opposed my original thoughts on the matter. I've discovered that for me the process thus far in grieving and losing Naki has brought a new dimension to me, Abigail. I am a very conflicted individual. Nothing I say or feel makes any sense, and yet everything does. Uuugh.

People ask me often, several times a day, "How are you doing?". How am I to answer that question? I know all who ask it mean that they care about me and the girls and think of us often. Everyone who asks truly wants me to be okay, and yet that will never be an answer that is an honest description of how I view myself ever again. There is never an easy honest answer to that question, because I've learned that no matter what I feel in that moment, I also simultaneously feel exactly the opposite. That might sound impossible, but I'm here to promise you that oh yes, it's completely possible. Here are just a few examples of how I am constantly conflicted.

After losing my best friend I find myself shocked and angered when all those I encounter throughout a normal day are unaware of my new circumstances. How could their lives continue in such a trivial manner when mine has forever been altered? How can they not know and thus not comment on how terrible it must be for me and the girls? And when I see someone who is aware of his death I'm frustrated with myself when they chit chat with me for a moment about this or that and never once mention Naki's name, or don't hug me and tell me they're thinking of me and hoping and praying for our little family. With no logical explanation I find myself feeling the exact opposite emotions in the exact same scenario, maybe even just 5 minutes later. How can someone who is aware of my circumstances think to keep talking to me about it? Couldn't they just chit chat with me about this or that and never once mention Naki's name or not hug me and tell me they're thinking of me and hoping and praying for our little family?

Poor Naki...ever since he met me he's spent all his energy trying to convince me of how beautiful I really am inside and out. He would always joke with me that he could give me a compliment and I was so used to hearing it and had grown so accustomed to his complimenting me that it wouldn't hold the same significance as someone else complimenting me about the same exact thing. Why did I do that to the poor guy? Now I find myself being complimented so many times in a day, and I don't want to hear it from anyone but him.

Please DO NOT think I am morbid or that I need to be put on death watch when I tell you my next conflict. When I look at the girls and spend time with them, I know that they are my purpose here on this earth. I love them for who they are and for who they've helped me become. They are the reason I breathe. And yet I want to die. Hold on folks...calm down. I mean, I want to be dead. I guess that doesn't sound any better. What I mean is that I want to have lived the rest of my earthly years having raised our girlies successfully and be done with this mortal existance already. I want to live with my girlies and yet I want to be done doing it. Makes no sense. For a while I couldn't figure out how the loss of one person could make my existance seem so bleak. Then I figured out that it isn't only the loss of having him with me right now that makes death sound so appealing as much as it is not living with the pain of that loss. I am so exhausted from the emotional pain of it all, I just want to go to sleep and when I wake up be finished already.

I feel a bit disconnected emotionally in this next conflict. You'd think that having experienced the loss of someone dear to me through death that I'd be especially sensitive to those around me who have gone through or are going through the same life altering experience. I can logically feel that I should have empathy towards them and that I should be able to relate to some of the grief that they're experiencing. I even feel as if I should send them a thoughtful note, let them know I'm thinking of them, that they aren't alone, blah blah blah. But I just can't do it. I feel heartless and somewhat disappointed in myself for being so incapable of caring, being so self centered, and being so insensitive to someone else's tragedy. But I just do not have the ability right now to pull myself out of the manhole that I have fallen into, enough to peer over the top and wave at those passing by. I just want to lay at the bottom of it in the underground sewage called my life and forget about anyone else's needs but my own. I hate how I sound when I actually admit that out loud...I know that I should be caring, but I can't think of anyone else but me the and girls.

Driving around Orem and Provo has whole new meaning for me. Every street I turn on brings with it memories of a time I was on that same street with my baby. A time we were going somewhere with the girls to play, a time we were going to the grocery store to just pick up milk and diapers, a time we were driving the girls to dance, a time we were driving to go trick or treating, a time we were going to visit his family, a time we were going to the movies with the girls for our annual New Year's Eve movie night, a time we were going to the softball fields to watch his games, a time we were going to a BYU sporting event. You name it, we've been everywhere in this town together. It brings a smile to my heart to think of all the fun things we've done together in our little towns of Orem and Provo. It also tears my heart out to think that I will no longer be doing those things with him in our little towns of Orem and Provo. Because of that, I constantly think of picking up and moving...just getting away. I know I could never do that. We need to be around his family for as long as we possibly can. I see no reason to ever move. But my emotional roller coaster every time I'm in the car makes me erratically think, "That's it...we're moving."

I've known for a long long long time that I have lived a fairy tale of a life up until now. I'm not sure how Naki's being gone fits into that image I've had. But I've loved the life I've had. Now I hate it. I hate imagining life without him. Every time I walk into a room in my house and don't see him there, the thought runs through my head, "I hate my life". Every time Eli and Eva come to my room crying at night I think, "I hate my life". When I have to take the girls out of school early once a week for therapy, therapy for heavens sake, I think "I hate my life". When I went to see the girls running in some races in school and he wasn't there to cheer them on or give them advice, I thought "I hate my life". At church when I am wrestling all the girls at the same time on the pew and don't truly hear anything that's being taught I think, "I hate my life". When I think of the time when all the remodeling is finished and my dad's no longer here, I imagine putting all the kids to bed and then sitting alone, truly alone, without Naki to talk to, and think, "I hate my life". When I anticipate our anniversary on which we always went to the temple to perform temple sealings, and him not being here and me going by myself, I think, "I hate my life". When I was getting all the baptism details and birthday party details done this past week and he wasn't there to discuss my plans with I thought, "I hate my life". When I was watching Monday night football and he wasn't there to tell me which guy had come from which college team, which guy was a rookie, which guy he had on his fantasy football team, and what BYU player had been drafted there, I thought "I hate my life". When I wake up, go to the gym, pick up and drop off kids, and overall go anywhere where there are other human beings that I smile at when I'm screaming inside, I think, "I hate my life". When I hear people talk about how blessed they are with their sweet little family, I think "I hate my life". When I see loving couples holding hands, talking, or even arguing, I think "I hate my life". And yet, when I come home from a hard day at church and find a sweet little bag on my front porch with a cute little pair of Christmas socks for each of the girls, I think ....well, I don't know what I think, but I don't think "I hate my life". When I go to Malia's birthday party, and everyone there is my extra pair of hands and arms in holding my baby, chasing one of my babies, helping clean and pick up garbage and put away tables and chairs, I think "I'm not alone". When I go to the grocery store and pay for my groceries with a gift card that the responders from that horrible night from the Orem Fire Department dropped off for us, I think "I am not alone". When I arrive to church hoping to find a seat and see a dear friend sitting sideways with her legs outstretched, saving the bench where we've always sat, I feel "I am not alone". When a sister in the ward offers to take Ane out of Sacrament Meeting so I can hear something that's being said, I feel "I am so loved". When I am trying to prepare a talk for Malia's baptism and the thoughts just won't solidify and I can't get anything prepared, only to stand at the podium and have words flow so smoothly and effortlessly, I feel "God really is aware of Malia and me today". When I come home on any given day and see complete strangers working for nothing on a house that is everything to me, I think "God is taking care of you, Abby". When one of my daughters is struggling to believe in God, and words to answer her questions come so easily and quickly into my mind, I know, "God loves this little girl...and he loves you, too".

Because of all the remodeling, repainting, and such, most of all the pics we had on the wall are down and stored in one room until all the work is finished. As a result, I really haven't seen many pics of him since he's died. Plus, I was really bad about being able to decide where to hang pictures, and as a result didn't really have that many pics of any of us on the walls to start with. I've pulled one or two pictures of him out and put them where the girls can see them, and in a couple of weeks they'll all get hung. But as a result I havn't had to see his face on a consistent basis since he's died. It's relieving because looking at him is so extremely painful. And yet I want to dig out all the pictures of him that I can find. While looking at them I try to burn their images in my mind for fear of forgetting. But I've noticed that after I've looked at pictures of him I set myself into a downward spiral of gloom and sadness. I've discovered that I feel less empty and bleak when I don't see his face as often. Sounds terrible, I know. But looking at his pictures, which are usually pictures of either me and him or him and the girlies, are just so damn painful that it's almost easier to avoid them...it helps avoid the feeling of not being able to breathe. Just for survival reasons I find myself avoiding the pictures of him. I want to see them, I don't want to see them. I want to see them, I don't want to see them.

Conflicted.