Yesterday, chatting with a friend overseas, I described the thoughts I have most mornings. To paraphrase: when I wake up, I think about all the things I want to create or finish.
All of the things. And that shouldn’t be a problem. But it’s overwhelming – even if for a few minutes – to think that this won’t be the day they’re all complete and in motion. It’s like standing on the stage in an auditorium in front of a full audience, and everyone is asking questions at the same time.
I’d like to wake up one morning and think about the one item at the top of the list. The one that’s the highest priority, most significant. I explained that I’d love to picture the list of ideas as having the most important task at the top then the other items greyed-out below.
After a disclaimer, my friend asked if I had ever been screened for ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder). My l
That was a conversation we hadn’t had: the 4 years of my children I was put on Ritalin for ADD. So she couldn’t have known.
Naturally, I began looking for the clues dropped in my story and our conversation that pointed to my old nemesis. Have you crept back into my world again?
ADD – straightjacket of my conscious mind, the Full Nelson on my reasoning, the potholes in my race of life, the clown in the sewage drain of my logic, the bacon grease popping when I reach for the stars – I denied your power for years maybe even decades.
The conclusion of our chat reminded me that I’m not above asking for help although I have been performing that way for months. The truth is what I’m doing isn’t working.