As much as I like to crow that I have life plans and am moving towards goals, I am pretty much blown around by what my brain says is the focus of the moment.
ADHD, autism, whatever it is, when the hyperfocus calls, I answer.
Not that they’re even hyperfocii, because I do get other stuff done. I rarely disappear for hours or days down the rabbithole, and forget to eat, drink, wee, or shower. I want to say ‘I’m not that bad”, but to be honest, I suspect it has more to do with being an undiagnosed AuDHDer for many years, and just having to knock those urges on the head to get shit done.
Maybe my overruling the hyperfocii is my hyperfocus.
Anyway, while I like to call writing my calling, my reason for being alive, my career, my job, my passion, it could well be a Special Interest. I don’t want to reduce it to that. I don’t class it alongside dinosaurs, aromatherapy, and reading.
Right now, as I finish off Season of the Wolf, and start looking towards what to do with my writing coach in June, July, and August, I can feel the urge in me to sit down with tarot, with astrology, and that side of my life. Where’s my witchcraft at? My hippie wants to come out for air.
I want to say ‘Oh, not now, not when I have a vague plan for writing.’ But I know saying ‘not now’ makes no difference.
Do I say to my writing coach ‘looks like my brain is going to be elsewhere’, only to find the tarot and astrology passion lasted 2 weeks? Do I somehow try to incorporate my hippie into my writing? Beats me.
I’m so tempted to have another go at ADHD meds to see if they resolve this. But, since the experiment with them lasted 2 days and has had an ongoing depression, Ex Dys, and existential angst effect, I’m leery.
Ah, the joys of my brain. Dear brain, how can I turn all this to my advantage?
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