The ADHD Writer’s Guide to Unfinished Business

Ah, the quintessential morning of a would-be writer: the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I'm armed with my trusty strawberry Hint flavored water—today’s the day I pen a masterpiece. Writing is simple, they said—just focus, they said. But when you have ADHD, focusing is like trying to tame a hurricane with a butterfly net.

Naturally, the first order of business is a quick email check... Fast forward a month, and here we are, no further along. I could share the whirlwind of reasons, but let's be honest, we might be here till next month.

By the way, I originally wrote this piece back in June 2023, full of optimism that it would be published any day. Now, here we are in October 2024, and I’m finally dusting it off. Classic ADHD move, right?

The Juggling Act of ADHD

Living with ADHD is like trying to assemble IKEA furniture without the manual—except the parts keep changing shape. Obsession and focus? They're practically twins in my world, except when obsession takes over, it's less 'eureka' and more 'yard sale'—a smorgasbord of half-baked ideas and gadgets that promised the moon but delivered a paper airplane.

This post goes out to anyone who's ever felt the burning desire to conquer their to-do list, only to end the day with a new pet iguana named Steve and a mysterious collection of artisanal soaps.

The Siren Call of Distractions

About three months ago, I bid adieu to my job. It wasn’t a dramatic exit; rather, it was the quiet realization that I had outgrown the role. Being a community health worker was once my lifeline, a beacon during the foggy days of multiple sclerosis. It gave me purpose and a paycheck, even when my own body couldn’t decide whether to cooperate or go on strike.

Quitting took everyone by surprise, myself included. I logged off my work laptop for the last time without a whisper of notice. Telling my husband felt like explaining why I bought a unicycle—I don’t know how to ride it, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. His voice was the dam to my emotions, and I crumbled into a sobbing mess. Yet, he assured me we’d be okay. “Now you can focus on your blog and that book series,” he said. And just like that, I was a writer… or at least, a very good crier.

The Realization: ADHD in the Wild

Discovering I had ADHD was like a goldfish having an epiphany mid-lap in its bowl. You see, my memory is a bit like that—things told to me yesterday might as well have been whispered a decade ago unless I’ve penned them down. They say a goldfish's joy in circling its home comes from blissful amnesia, each loop a brand new adventure. That’s me, minus the water bowl.

During a deep clean at my youngest daughter’s place, she claims I have a laser focus that sees the task through, and I half-listened to her chatter. When she mentioned ADHD’s hereditary nature, it snagged my attention. A pause, a ponder: had I inadvertently passed this trait along? With a sigh, I resigned myself to the notion that securing a granny annex in my children’s future homes might be a tad optimistic.

Detour Adventures and Other Pit Stops

Post-discussion, my journey home was anything but direct. There was a pit stop at McDonald’s, a detour through Bath and Body Works (armed with a buy-one-get-one coupon), a twist of fate at the pretzel stand, and a literary escapade at Barnes and Noble, where I invested in $200 worth of books—destined to be rediscovered in a crumpled paper bag during a future quest for a missing shoe.

Once home, I intended to dive into the depths of ADHD research. However, as it often does, my brain had other plans, leading me down a memory lane filled with hip-hop beats. I mistook ADHD for DTP, Disturbing Tha Peace, and found myself in a Ludacris-induced musical trance. Several head-bopping replays of "Move B***h" later, I finally circled back to the topic at hand.

A Sisterhood of the Scatterbrained

My online odyssey revealed that ADHD in Black women often wears a disguise, mimicking depression and anxiety. It's a chameleon, blending into our daily struggles, making it as hard to spot as a well-camouflaged iguana named Steve in a rainforest.

And as for the hereditary bit, well, let’s just say my genetic gift-giving is more 'white elephant' than 'Secret Santa.' But hey, at least I’m in good company. There's a whole community out there, a sisterhood of the forgetful. We’re the ones making impromptu stops for pretzels and accidentally creating playlists that jump from self-diagnosis to Ludacris in a single beat.

Epiphany in Aisle Five

So, there I was, in the self-help section of Barnes and Noble, armed with a stack of ADHD books thicker than a triple-decker sandwich. It dawned on me—my brain is like a browser with too many tabs open, and not one of them has the information I need.

But here’s the thing: embracing my ADHD, quirks and all, has been more than just an adjustment. It's an adventure, a chaotic journey with the most unexpected travel companions. While I may not always find what I’m looking for (like my keys, or that other shoe), I’m sure to discover something interesting along the way—like the fact that Fruit Stripe gum was discontinued in 2024, leaving behind a legacy of fleeting flavor and zebra-striped tattoos.

So, to all my fellow ADHD adventurers: when you find yourself lost in the labyrinth of your own thoughts, remember it's not about the destination; it's about the journey... and all the random pit stops you’ll make along the way.

The End… or just another beginning?