Getting a Move On...

I have met the Great and Terrible Blog Spirit of Regret in what I'm sure will be the first of many moments of doubt.  After the initial sense of pride I felt over setting this up, I spent a quality 24-hours cursing myself for not only starting this project in the first place, but for trapping myself within the boundaries of public humiliation if I fail.  I'll just have to find ways to remind myself that the whole idea is for me learn about myself, my family, and the challenges and questions that arise from the subject, as well as engaging in the project itself.  As long as I learn something, it can't be a failure.

I called my mom after my first post and asked her to look at it.  I had mentioned to her a couple of years ago, that I had thought about doing some kind of theatre project about Alzheimer's, but we hadn't talked about it since, and I hadn't told her I was going to start now.  When she called after she read it, her voice sounded wary, and she overused vague descriptors like 'ambitious' and 'interesting'.  I didn't feel reassured, a very strange feeling for me, having never received a note of disapproval or lack of enthusiasm from my parents about what I'm working on.

We had a difficult conversation.  In my rush of enthusiasm after outlining the project, starting it up, and announcing it to the world, I had not for one moment considered how anyone in my family would feel when they found out about it.  More accurately, and worse, I probably had thought about it briefly, but then ignored my better judgements.  This was a mistake.

It's been just over a year since my grandmother passed away, and it's hard to remember that we all grieve and negotiate with the concept of death in our own way.  In the beginning of the conversation with my mom, I felt that she found the project disrespectful to my grandmother in some way, and that, in turn, hurt her.  That was what felt the worst to me, that I had hurt my mom.  And believing for a moment that even though I knew I would continue with the project no matter what, that she would want nothing to do with it, or that she wouldn't want to talk to me about what I anticipate will be a huge part of my life for the next year, was difficult.

We talked about the raw emotions that still run rampant after a year, and acknowledged that these conversations will open up new and challenging avenues of our own relationship.  My mom corrected my doubts that she believed in the value of the project, and my intentions in doing it, and I'm excited to have her full support in continuing.