Yesterday, I listened to an interesting broadcast of Science Friday about neuroplasticity. It is exactly what it sounds like, the malleability of the brain.
It’s nothing new, but it is something of an exciting topic. At any point in your life, you can start molding your own brain to make yourself into anything you want. Of course, there was no talk of the method used to do this, just the fact that it occurs.
Maybe the concept is just a bit too new, and I think that it’s something that happens naturally, whether we’re aware of it or not.
I’m stressing out more this week than I have in awhile. I just have too many things-to-do piling up. I was thinking of calling my dad about help with something, but then my brother told me he’d just spoken with him and he asked him for a favor and our father pulled the old “hassle” card.
Meaning, if you ask him for something, no matter how easy and simple it may be, and frankly, how easy this man’s life otherwise is, he’ll refuse because it is a “hassle.”
If you really stretch the definition of “hassle” then I suppose it could be considered one, but a very minor hassle for him can often save me and Joe gigantic hassles later, but he doesn’t see it that way.
It was worse when we were younger. Schools and such need things from parents and you’ve only got one coherent parent, but filling out that form would just be a “hassle.”
He’s just mad because Joe’s moving. He’s moving from one town in Japan to another town in Japan. Why on Earth would that bother him? It’s because our mother’s family is in the new town.
God forbid that we notice that we have two parents.
Anyway, since he’s in the mood of refusing his favorite child favors, I sure as hell am not going to bother asking him anything. After all, the man is mad because he’s stuck in this country with the least-favorite child.
I’m obviously clinging to a little bit of bitterness here. Or maybe a lot of bitterness.
I could utilize neuroplasticity to forgive, but some people are just plain unhealthy to have in my life. There are only two people that fit into the category of, “I’d like to forgive you, but you’re just bad for me.” My father and my ex-husband. My ex-husband, I can deal with. He’s not that bad. If I only talk to him a little bit, he’s harmless.
My dad, well, it’d be nice if there was something that would get through to him, but he’s so unbelievably clueless. If I were to be vocal about the actions that are counterproductive or just plain wrong, rather than being pragmatic about it, he’d just launch into a “poor me” tirade. I know because I’ve tried this before, which is why I’m on the least-favorite child list.
Is there any chance of neuroplasticity in that skull of his? I wonder if it’s possible to find the pin-sized bit of malleability in his brain and grow it into something. It could probably work out, but I don’t think that there is anyone who has the patience to really guide him through.
Also, it takes a bit of discipline and drug-addicted alcoholics are usually not known for their discipline.
But, anyway, it’s not my responsibility to judge the actions of others. I only have control over what I do, so it’s silly to waste time trying to figure out how they could improve themselves. I guess it up to me to decide how many chances I’ll give someone to improve. If I were perfectly stable, I’d love to offer someone infinite chances, but I’ve got to cling whatever sanity I can muster up myself.
God, what a melancholy day. I think the stresses from earlier in the week are catching up to me.
|Thursday, Feb. 22, 2007 at 11:35 AM|