I’m Not A Rodeo Clown, I Just Play One On TV.

I used to think it was normal.

Jumping from one job to the next, starting a new story before finishing the first, doing half the dishes and then switching to counters… and nothing gets completed.  NOTHING.  I get pulled off task so often, I’m shocked I can even dress myself in the mornings.  I don’t know if I just never noticed it before, or if it’s gotten worse.  Regardless, I am ready to snap.

I made good grades growing up.  I had to.  That old school parenting will put enough fear in anyone to complete a marathon on crutches.  I stayed to myself, I read lots of books.  I got in trouble in second grade for chewing on an eraser, of all things.  In fifth grade, I would finish my work fast and then doodle.  The teacher didn’t complain, though.  My grades were good, and I gave the pictures to her as gifts.  Back then, disabilities such as ADD, ADHD, and ODD didn’t exist.  I was considered a bit of a daydreamer, not a bad student.

But both my boys were diagnosed with ADHD in elementary school.  I did my best, but I couldn’t make it click for them.  Medication could.  I don’t want them to be too dependent on it,  so they take it for school, and school only.  No weekends, no vacations, no holidays.  I felt bad as a mother that I couldn’t teach them in a way that made it easy.  And once they were both diagnosed, I didn’t understand why.  If it wasn’t their fathers’, was it my fault?

Easily distracted.  Nervous.  Constantly late… which is something about myself that I absolutely HATE.  Overly stressed.  Always tired.  Compulsive.  Frequently off-task.  Disorganized.  All these things can be factors of various mood and anxiety disorders.  But they are also all characteristics of adult ADD.  And every one of them apply to me.

I have a nice handful of published stories in my portfolio.  But for every published story, I have at least THREE unfinished stories sitting around.  As well as FOUR unfinished books.  Heck, even my blogs are a sad testament of my lack of completion.  And it’s not like I don’t see what’s wrong.  It’s not like some of those unfinished works weren’t finished in my head years ago.  But pulling them from my brain, onto the screen?  Might as well be surgery.

I’ve been thinking of seeing a doctor about it.  I’ve started to feel this is truly becoming a hinderance.  I would love to finish a story.  I would love to be able to start and complete a job at work before getting pulled into a different task.  I would like to arrive places on time, without feeling rushed and panicked.  I would like to wake in the morning and not feel like I need to hide under the covers and avoid the day.

I really don’t think I’m depressed.  I know I am quite chemically balanced, in fact.  I’m saner than any one has the right to be.

I just need a lasso.  And better roping skills.

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