Meandering Orbits

Since the incidents beginning in 2010 with my former cult-recovery therapist, John Knapp, I have changed...not necessarily for the better. I trust myself less (again); I trust others (especially strangers) less. I endeavor to glean the lessons learned from the Knapp encounters and from Knapp's attempted public smearing of my character. I have questioned whether or not I deserved Knapp's wrath filled with falsehoods; after all, I brought it upon myself by coming forward. But, I didn't lie. Knapp outright lied making up fantasies.

I wonder if I will ever blow another whistle if I am in a position to do so? I've paid a personal price with the little whistle I blew regarding Knapp. About the only reasons I find worth that price are the couple other ex-clients who have come out of the woodwork since latter 2011. Recently in a phone conversation, a friend who is an activist regarding mental health practitioner abuse, stated, "Carol, it wasn't a small thing. Just think how many people you stopped from being injured by that man." Well, maybe.

Yet, the ordeal (as small as it was/is) has had a dampening affect on me that I've found hard to shake off.

Changed. It's not just what happened with Knapp; there are also the unpleasant incidents with health professionals in 2012 and 2013, and then I question if I am the problem. Do I not communicate well? But then, I've read story after story of others with peripheral neuropathy who have gone through similar (and much worse) medical roller coasters trying to get a proper diagnosis and help. I'm fortunate that I found a good neurologist (at least so far) after only one who turned me away telling me I didn't have nerve damage sending me out his door in pain with no remedy and suggesting I might want to try acupuncture. I hit bottom at that point...BAM! The event did catalyze some creative ways to maneuver the circumstances...and I did maneuver.

Then there was the incident with a cat, when I misread the cat's insulin syringe and he died. How could I be so stupid? My heart still droops and my head hangs in shame. I handled it as best I could; I owned my error and I did all I could to save his life.

For decades I have struggled with thinking I'm unintelligent. I've struggled with self-confidence. Yet, when I have mentioned this to others, they've been surprised. The responses are that I come across self-assured and they would never have thought I had such doubts about myself. I used to think everyone had such doubts. I've since learned that isn't so.

These days, I'm much less open than I once was, less likely to wear my heart on my sleeve. I find myself avoiding close relationships with others. I'm tired. Maybe it's part of aging. Perhaps I've grown relationship lazy.

I've wondered if I prefer,for the most part, the company of dogs and cats and trees and plants rather than people because there are no facades with the four-legged and leaved; there is nothing to prove. I don't feel the perceived need to explain myself for whatever season or reason.

Two great equalizers that help me through the storms of self-doubt are gratitude and paying life forward. They take my focus off my own vulnerabilities and onto a wider horizon of humanity and history. Surely the small deeds appropriated in the quiet of our hearts and closets have an impact that reverberates, however small.