Presuming My Own Competence

Enjoying a well deserved break at Merchavim this week.

The start of a new year invites reflection. It asks us to look back, not to judge ourselves, but to understand what carried us forward.

Two years ago, if anyone had suggested, hinted, or even dared to imagine that Asaf would be living at home, content, happy, with a rich inner world we could access, communicating with us through typing, I honestly would have laughed in their face. Not because I lacked love, nor because I lacked hope but because life had taught me to survive by lowering expectations.

And yet, here we are.

Asaf has been reborn for me. Standing at the threshold of a new year, I see rebirth not as a single moment, but as a long, demanding, deeply human process.

Exactly two years ago, I received a phone call from the doctor at the hostel telling me that Asaf had not had a bowel movement for over twelve days. Twelve days. I remember thinking, why did it take so long to call me? Why did it take twelve days to decide this was urgent?

He warned me that the hospital would likely not take us seriously. That there was a high chance they would want to send Asaf straight back to the hostel. He told me I would have to fight like a lioness just to get a CT scan.

Three weeks earlier, we had endured a traumatic experience at a different hospital near the hostel. I refused to go back there. I insisted Asaf be taken to the hospital closer to my home. I called a friend who works in ER and asked her to pass on one request.

Please treat Asaf with respect. Talk to him at eye level. Do not talk over his head.

He may not respond. He may not show any sign that he understands. But he does.

We spent eight long hours in A&E. They did not want to do a CT scan. I fought, but it was not enough. It took the insistence of others, and every connection I had, before they finally agreed.

After the scan, the doctor came back, and looked at me differently. He said that if we had arrived any later, the outcome could have been very different. The entrance to his rectum was completely blocked by one solid stool stone.

I do not like to imagine what would have happened if I had not insisted, or if others had not stood with me.

That morning, before picking Asaf up and heading to the hospital, I spoke quietly to myself. I knew the day ahead would be brutal. And I made a decision to help myself. Every hour I would find one small thing that was positive. Something I could hold onto.

That day was full of fear, pain, anger, exhaustion, and breakdowns. His and mine. And yet, when I got home and reflected honestly, I saw how much good had also been present.

That is when something became clear to me again.

When you choose to see the good, you begin to see more and more of it.

One of the questions I am most often asked following my lectures is: where do I find my strength?

This is my answer. Strength is not something I wake up with. It is not a personality trait. It is a mindset. It is a choice. Sometimes a daily choice. Sometimes an hourly one, and often a difficult one to make.

We always have a choice in how we respond to what life places in front of us. And just as importantly, we have a choice in the language we use inside our own heads.

That inner dialogue is my greatest challenge.

There is a constant chatter in my mind. I have ADHD, and I can get caught in loops of thought, replaying the same questions again and again. But I am not convinced this is only about ADHD. I think it is about being human with sensitivities. It’s so easy for us to turn against ourselves.

And this is where I am learning something else; something I still need to practice deliberately.

I am learning to have compassion for myself.

I am quick to judge myself; to berate myself for everything I have not managed to achieve. To name a few: The tasks left unfinished, The goals not yet reached. But I need to remind myself that I am human. I work a full-time job. I am a single mum. I have a house and five children to take care of. I am studying to be a typing therapist. I am developing my lectures, trying to reach as many people as possible.

This is not a sprint. It is an ultra marathon.

In an ultra marathon, progress is not measured only by speed, but by endurance. By the fact that you keep going. I need to focus on what I have achieved, not only on what I have not yet reached. I need to remember that rest is not failure. Downtime is not weakness. I am not a superwoman on steroids, and I am not meant to be.

The loop I find myself in lately is not exactly guilt. I know, rationally, that I had no way of knowing what I know now. Asaf had no way of physically showing his intelligence. I had no way of seeing it. The experts had no way of seeing it.

And yet, the question still surfaces. If I had presumed competence all those years ago, where would Asaf be today?

On a spiritual level, I believe that Asaf chose to come into this world exactly as he did. That his soul chose this path because he has a tikkun, a repair, to do here. And perhaps that repair does not require spoken language. Perhaps he knew how to carry this journey.

I also believe there is a much bigger picture than the one I can see from where I stand.

And still, belief does not erase pain.

My understanding of Asaf shifted when I accepted that this process is part of his tikkun;  and not only his but mine too. That understanding brought meaning, but it did not make the road easier.

What gives me some peace as I step into this new year is seeing the full arc. It is clear to me now that Asaf had to go through the hardships he went through. Even the suffering in the hostel. Not because it was right or acceptable, but because it moved him. It raised his motivation to reach outward, to communicate, to insist on being understood.

And then something extraordinary happened.

Communication opened. A rich inner world emerged. Relationships formed. Friendships grew. Not symbolic connections, but real human bonds.

This is what I carry with me into the new year.

Not certainty.Not ease.But clarity.

I choose to see the good.I choose compassion.For Asaf, and for myself.

Perhaps the most important competence I still need to presume is my own.

And that choice, made again and again, is how I step forward.

Yesterday, i was privileged to witness the most phenomenal sunrise, and sunset on the last day of the year. As if the universe was reminding me that I am in motion, moving in the right direction.