Different, Not Better

I'm reading a book about children and their greiving. I can't locate it at the moment, but something it said has stuck with me now for a couple of weeks. It was talking about the dangers of filling the void that whatever loss we're experiencing has brought into our lives. It stated quite simply that when we try to fill those voids it has the potential to make us feel different, not better. I have thought and thought on those two words...different and better. I know for sure that I have yet to feel "better", and quite frankly that seems an impossibility at any point in my mortal life. But I can see things I've been doing, thinking, or saying that make me feel different. Let's just say that I probably don't need to buy another pair of boots this winter season...they've done their duty in helping me feel different enough...*gulp* It can be a dangerous journey, trying to fill that never ending void. Naki and I used to watch a show together called "Intervention", about people addicted to various substances or behaviors who were experiencing an intervention orchestrated by those who loved them. Almost always those addicted were trying to feel different, and it never ended up feeling better. I try often to analyze myself to see which category the choices I make and actions I take fall under. Obviously, since I have yet to feel better, there are many things these days that make me feel different. My conscience limits my choices, since I refuse to take up drugs, sex, alcohol, pornography, serious shopping, serious eating, or any other difficult vices. But I have been known to watch late night movies which help me zombie out, play mindless games on my phone, read the world news over and over on the internet, watch the kids play games, get my nails done, get a pedicure, etc. I'm currently trying to figure out why when I feel sad, overwhelmed, empty, discouraged, outraged, or like escaping the impossible (my life) I reach for the leftover pizza, the icecream, the juice, and yes, the chocolate raisins, instead of doing 10 push ups or situps, or maybe even drink a tall glass of water? Or even better, pray and read my scriptures more? I think I've discovered that feeling bitter, angry, unsettled, and confused is something that I feel entitled to experiencing, and want to remain here feeling outraged and disenchanted with my life. Finding peace and serenity seems to be letting those at large a bit off the hook. I always thought the kids got their stubborn streak from their Dad, but that theory may need a bit revamping.

Seriously Lose?

What do you think is the psychobabble behind going to pick up one of your girlies from their primary class, only to find them redressing in front of their whole class? Two male teachers and all. Her head was stuck in her dress as she was putting it back on over her head. I am still so livid with her I just sent her to her room to stay for a while so I can think this one through. Her only redemption at this point was that she did have a white t shirt and white leggings, not tights, on underneath. But still. In her words, "But I was so so so so hot, Mom." It's in moments like these that I think to God with guilt ridden disrespect, Really? Couldn't I just have the normal parental challenges? Did I really have to work with grieving children, too? Especially when the way they act doesn't necessarily come across as "grieving", but everything else under the sun. Seriously. This is so dang hard.

What do you get when you have two sick kiddos for over a week, no gym time as a result, two containers of Costco chocolate covered raisins (approximately), and people cooking meals for you that are way too good to eat wise portions of? 3 almost 4 unwanted pounds...in a week. Apparently my solitude gym time was actually doing more than just giving me time alone. It was actually counteracting all the crap I've been feeding my emotions. Let's all pray for kiddos to get better so I can get back there soon. Notice I didn't say I would be not eating the raisins anymore...

One More...

I've got a real sweet one...

Mom, my grilled cheese sandwich doesn't taste good.

Well, maybe that's because you didn't eat it and now it's cold.

No, it just tastes weird. It tastes like trees, and I know because I've licked one before.


*sigh*

Words to warm a Mother's Heart

1. Mom! Malia dropped her shirt in the toilet and it's poopy!

2. Mom! I peed...in Ane's bed.

3. Mom! Look. I pulled out my tooth and it's hardly bleeding at all!

4. knock knock knock. knock knock knock. knock knock knock. Someone get the door! (me) After answering the door, Mom hears, "It's Eva!"

And lucky for Mom, this was all in one afternoon. Will things ever calm down and get back to "normal"? My escape artist worries me the most by far. If you ever see Eva, please look around to make sure I am close by.

Putting me to bed

I miss knowing that at the end of the night I can sit down in any comfy chair and fall asleep. I did this all the time, knowing that it didn't matter where I ended up because I knew that Naki would come and find me after he got home from work to bring me up to bed. He would rouse me from my sleep, which is quite ungraceful to behold, would then convince me that I needed to stand up with his assistance, and would then walk behind me, going up the different stairs needed to get me to our room. I remember some of these times and truthfully other times I would wake in the morning, get out of our bed, and not remember him walking me there. Once I could have woken fully but decided to stay a bit delirious. It is a precious memory for me. He spoke to me so patiently and gently as I weaved back and forth with each step that I took. On my occasional misstep he'd guide me from behind, making sure that I didn't run into any walls or doorframes, something I'm known to do even when awake. He even chuckled a time or two...But the best part was when we got to our room, he sat me on the side of the bed and carefully helped me change into my pajamas just as you would a child. (I can really sleep deeply...) He even removed my earrings since he knew how much I hate to sleep with them in. He would always have the covers pulled down and the extra pillows removed before he even came to find which chair I was in, so that by the time he got me upstairs it would all be waiting and ready for me. That night, as he literally tucked me in and kissed me goodnight, I knew that I had found the most amazing man to be my partner and best friend. I miss you, Babe. I really really miss you.

Enjoying vs. Enduring

One of our home teachers left for his mission today. (Woo-Hoo!!! Go Wyatt!) He spoke in church this past Sunday about having faith in trials, and did a phenomenal job. Really. I wish you all could have heard it. He read a quote that I actually heard, since I only actually get to hear about 5% of what's being said while the other 95% of what I hear is Eva complaining about having to sit with us and not being able to just walk around the chapel, or arguing with me about keeping her clothes on, or stating very very loudly that she just wants to go home, or Ane fussing with extreme discontent at pretty much all the same things, and all the other girls arguing about whether or not they were able to sit beside me last week, when are they EVER going to get to sit by me, and then when told it's not their turn listening to them pout, kick the pew, throw the hymnals on the floor, keep their clothes on, and also state very loudly that they just want to go home. Yeah, church is pretty much a blast, I'd say. So the fact that there was something said that I actually heard and remembered means quite a bit. I couldn't remember the exact quote, but knew that the gist of it spoke about life not just being something to endure, but something to actually enjoy. Tonight I was going to sit down and try to find it, but first sat to update myself on other's blogs. Coincidentally, or not, I found it posted on my dear friend's blog. It's by Gordon B. Hinckley, and it reads,



"In all of living, have much fun and laughter. Life is to be enjoyed, not just endured."



Is this really possible? I haven't been able to stop thinking about these two words, enjoy and endure, since Sunday morning. Do I find myself having fun and laughing since Naki died? Yes, of course. I have crazies surrounding me that provide those moments, even when some of them are painful-filled laughter...when Ane thinks she's such a big girl in her new car seat, calling out my name as we drive down the road over and over again so I'll look in the rear view mirror at her. Yes, I laugh. But I feel equal parts laughter and pain, as I think that Naki is missing this! I'm missing sharing this with him. And she's missing calling out his name to show off to him. Pain...when I hear her use his name for all different things, and not him anymore. Laughing? Fun? Yes, I have those moments. But I endure through all of them, and don't enjoy them. How do you get past the enduring and on to the enjoying? I want to be there so badly, but so far the only way I feel joy in those moments is to forget Naki. How could I do that? When Ane was calling out to me from the back of the car I had to push those thoughts of him out of my mind. That has to be some of the worst feelings thus far in this process. Survival means forgetting him. If in every one of those situations I thought of him I would be a inconsolable basket case. I would never feel calm, since thinking of him is a constant reminder that I don't have him with me. In order to be able to function, to breathe, to make decisions, to sleep, to eat, to not be a menace to society and all of our friends, I have to realign my identity as me...just me. And also my identity as one parent alone instead of one of two parents...part of a team. I look at them when they do things and think of them and me, not them and us. When I find myself thinking about him is when I find myself the most short tempered, the most moody, the most irritable, the most weepy, the most sleepless, the most robotic. And so I've cancelled the channel that plays Naki 24 hours a day. How could this be right? I am him, and he is me. We are one. By pushing him out of my thoughts I feel better for a period of time, but ultimately crash, feeling lost and solo. Enjoying? Hah. How could one be expected to enjoy any of this? That I don't understand. What I DO understand is guilt. Guilt and I are great friends. Companions, it and I. Guilt for feeding the kids cold cereal for dinner because I don't have the energy to do more. Guilt for knowing they need a bath but putting them to bed without one anyway because it's more than I'm capable of...I'll do it in the morning after what's hopefully a restful evening. Guilt because I do better NOT thinking of him than thinking of him. Guilt for being short tempered with the girls for no good reason. Guilt for becoming so easily frustrated at what others say that unknowingly hurts. Guilt for forgetting my sisters' birthdays. (I just realized I forgot them...) Guilt for feeling so bitter. Guilt for feeling so tricked about life, now that I know how life really is. Guilt for too many things to list. Any suggestions on how to get past the enduring and onward to the enjoying? I'm a bit of a pessimist, and must admit that my future looms gloomily ahead of me, and yet I want so badly to feel a glimmer of hope.