Doubt and trust

“I must be as critical of what I build my doubts on as I am of what I trust in.”

For myself, I have had to face into doubting that I had read well presentation made to me by anyone. Especially during my tenure in group work with domestic violence offenders. Most of them, truly voiced, in nearly sociopathic fashions, how everyone else was guilty for putting them in such a place and especially with an incompetent therapist. Only a few with the same court orders presented differently.

At first, that second and smaller group showed up early and chatted with me, over our horrible coffee in styrofoam cups. Too often the naysayers’ focus in conversations covertly were really denials of their own problems. Catching me off guard, the first ones of that group got away with proverbial murder. I now have forgotten whether it was a peer telling me or I just finally caught onto a truly seriously lack of insight and almost completely my own. Their fingers had, almost, never pointed back at themselves. Close to everyone of them sought to keep my attention centered on everyone else’s faults and off of their own.

Applied to my doubts, perhaps, feels a little odd but that is the point. The doubt which I am most focused on right now is that I can work. Making my case overt, my supervisor back in 1999 finally had to threaten to call the cops to have me ejected from their office. She’d told me that I had no need to raise a finger to gain disability since they had done everything beyond  signing that single document that would be mailed to me later than afternoon.

What am I pointing at in all of that last paragraph? I was, like that second group I mentioned just before telling you about my supervisor threatening to call the cops on me, doing the same thing. I had been trying to turn that woman’s eyes away from all the documents she’d just shown me of hoards of serious mistakes made by me, toward my assertion that I could work. Think about it, just think about those men talking to me about everyone else’s problems while not saying a word about their own. Now, do you see some similarity shared between myself and those men?

Over the past couple of weeks, I had retaken sections of the Woodcock Johnson III test. Being a seriously cute and too damned effective a means for taking a good snap shoot of mental functions is one thing but when compared to any previous testing it takes on a serious character. Back in 2003 I was tested by a neuropsychologist which yielded grievously similar results. What has that to do then with my putting forward subtle flaws, first in how certain men in my domestic violence groups distracted me and then in how I feebly attempted to distract from my own flaws?

This time, the program I have decided to give initial traction to is suggesting that they are not just going bypass my neurological faults and flaws but to actually try and get my brain to redevelop those abilities. To some degree, I hope to potentially bypass, on my own, what has long been espoused as unchanging. So then, put simply, I am putting money where my mouth and taking the chance to revamp my neurological domain by living out what neuroplasticity means. 


About the post

anxiety, conflict, faith

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