Begin Again Part 1

Begin Again: The Brave Practice of Releasing Hurt and Receiving Rest by Leeana Tankersley
Read: 4/7/18-4/24/18

This book is based on/inspired by the line in the Rule of St. Benedict, "Always we begin again." I absolutely loved it and would recommend it to everyone, but especially anyone who's in transition now, and especially especially anyone who's grieving anything.

Why? It's not a book on grief, right? I mean, "Hurt" is in the title, but "Releasing Hurt?" What if you just lost someone and the thing you're beginning is grief, and you're not ready to be done with that process yet?

This isn't a book that only applies to happy beginnings. Beginnings also involve endings, even the "my world is falling apart" sort.

I could give you a beautiful quote from the introduction to prove it, but first, let me tell you a story.

Here's how I found Begin Again. What I've written so far, anyway, and we'll finish the story and review next week. (Hopefully, that's the plan.)


My mom isn't doing very well. Nothing especially new there, but she's at a stage of not doing well that seems to be closer to the end, and I've been surprised at how hard it's been hitting me.


I grieved the first year after the neurologist confirmed her dementia, but since then it's been very off and on. Grieving for a few days or a week here and there, especially when I hear about a new milestone.

This hasn't been that. This has been persistent, and full of memories. Still off and on, but the waves keep crashing, and coming closer together.

I say I'm not especially close to my mom, but I've never lost someone I'd spent so much time with before.

And, though I've been losing a parent, I've never lost a parent.

I'm doing really well on the postpartum depression front. Once I made an appointment to see my therapist and told her how bad it had gotten, she worked with my OB and they quickly got me started on medication. Finding a dosage that helped much was a longer process, but we finally made it, several things came together, and the contrast was AMAZING.

Perhaps that's why I've been grieving more now. I have the space to do it, I'm not stuck so solidly in survival mode anymore.

I was thinking about taking a trip down to California to go visit her again. I wasn't really sure about it, because each time I see her she seems less like herself, and what's the point again? But I realized I didn't really feel like I'd said goodbye yet, and I want to. I talked it over with John and meant to go look at plane tickets.

Weeks go by. Weeks? I think so. I do have three littles, after all. One morning I'm struggling with the grief, and I text John about it some. Later I get in the car and go to pick up the preschooler. I turn on The Next Right Thing podcast, as I often do. Lately I've realized my craving and need for silence, so I've stopped listening to several good podcasts, but not The Next Right Thing. I listen to each episode at least twice, how could I not? It creates space for my soul to breathe!

So I was listening to this episode, about holding one decision at a time. The episode has you practice, has you pick a decision and walk through this process, discovering your feelings about the decision.

I was trying to pick my decision. Yes, there were decisions to make about going to see Mom, but there were other decisions, too. The "dream" category sounded nice to dwell on. Tempting.

As I considered and as Emily Freeman's gentle voice asked me to choose, my car, connected to my phone by Bluetooth, pinged that I had a text message from John. I paused the podcast and pressed "Read" on the minivan's display.

A computer voice read the text to me, asking, "What would you like to do about your mom?"

Well.

Okay then.

I walked the trip decision through the practice and realized some things. Some obvious things, but my therapist also says they're insightful, so here you go, my obvious and insightful epiphany:

I don't want to travel down to say goodbye to my mom.

I do, but I don't.

I'd much rather pretend it isn't necessary. What do I want? What do I want God to do for me? I want her to be whole, and healthy, and happy again. Whole in body and spirit.

Well. Huh.

That night I went online and I started looking at the plane tickets.

One of the emotions that comes up in this time is fear. Fear, at first, that I'm not strong enough for this, that I'm going to slip back into depression, but my therapist helped me handle that one. I know the warning signs, and there's plenty of room to increase my antidepressant dosage if need be.

After that the fear seemed more generalized, and one of my instincts to try to handle it is to try to control and plan things, to try to do things perfectly. (This may not be a surprise if you've followed my blog for long, though sometimes it's... complicated.)

I've shared with some friends about this, and I've asked in an Enneagram group for advice for my Peacemaker self with my strong Perfectionist streak, and the consensus is... of course.

Of course I don't know how to do this. I've never done this before. I've never lost a parent before. It'd be kind of scary if I did know how to do it.

A week goes by. Again I'm in the car, again I'm listening to the newest episode of The Next Right Thing.

Be a Beginner.

To be continued...

Part 2