I’ve been reading an excessive amount of literature surrounding the cyclical nature of time in some narrative forms and it’s had me reflecting on my own nature. You see, I’m pretty sure I’ve had ADHD for my entire life, but I’ve found ways around it or to use to my advantage some of the time. That took a long time to develop though, and I don’t know if I created a solution or fostered a problem. I run my life in a tornado of cycles.
Tasks are almost never completed in a single walkthrough, and yet my convoluted way of thinking seems to get there in its own way. My thought process is like a maelstrom. I don’t work on a single task, I work on a mass, while allowing minor distractions leeway in between. It’s like this:
1). Decide to amend my outline of my undergraduate thesis.
2). Sit down at the computer and open tabs for school home page, school email, course assignment, WF (obvious addict), and present outline (at a minimum).
3). Unlock my phone and open basically the same tabs and then Facebook until I find something interesting enough to satisfy the distraction.
4). Clear spam on WF or other mod-ish things / review someone else’s work.
5). Clear a loose hair on the desk that’s been bothering me.
5). Finally, open one of my books for the dissertation and type out some quotes.
6). Open a writing project and add a few lines or begin a new poem that must get out. Stop after a few lines.
7). Find and clean up another piece of dust nearby on the desk.
8). Contemplate the outline for a Graduate thesis project while staring at bookshelf (Looking at animal perspectives and getting excited about it).
9). Crack knuckles and open my phone to the same tabs on the computer, then close it and go back to them on the computer.
10). Organize book lines and construct more outline items.
11). Open yet another word document, but probably never type anything on it.
12). Clear another loose hair on the desk…
13). Repeat and add tasks until others atrophy.
You get the picture, I’m sure. It’s focus. I don’t have any focus, unless I have a sudden strike of hyper focus for hours, but I assure you it’s not on what it should be. Usually something that didn’t need to be done for months, like organizing the garage. Honestly, it’s maddening, but it can also be hyper productive. It is assured to be one thing above all though: exhausting. Endlessly exhausting.
I wouldn’t mind it if it wasn’t every day, but the cycles never end. It’s a prison of thought always moving towards a task but finishing much fewer than I would like. A flurry of work done just to get as far as possible before the next wave hits and I find myself clearing weeds or pulling apart an electrical component to see how it’s constructed. Even this damn blog post was left on the desktop four times before I re-read it. It doesn’t help that the stories I’m reading are first person and about the mentally ill caught in their own repetition of life. I find no solace in them, instead warning through association. Their natures led them down dark roads to lives they felt were devoid of meaning. They are all imprisoned in their own thoughts secretly swarming out of the pages and finding a home in the realm of relation.
Can’t help but think the destination was always set for me, but the time was out of place. The order of operations in thought ended near the beginnings of tasks which converted to beginnings of new tasks that would find no end. Which leaves me questioning if I created my own prison in repetition, or was I always destined to arrive to this same end.
Does it matter? I’m sure I’ll cycle back around to it after I clear this other hair I found on my desk…
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