I’m tired. I feel mildly lethargic and unmotivated. The weight of the divorce and reality of it are sinking in. It is akin to the calm before things really need to get moving. For some reason I need a sense of urgency to nudge me along. It is almost like without anxiety, without some raw kind of adrenaline, without some fear, I am a complacent being. I let the irons in my metaphorical fire grow in number until I don’t know which one to grab and tend. That is until certain ones tend to glow red-hot. Then it is not I who am controlling the tending, but the fire and the quality of the iron.
To the best of my knowledge, I have always been like this. Relying on urgency and the last minute to bring focus. It is not like I don’t try to focus beforehand. The times I sit and try to work, with intent to work, only to be shortly distracted from one thing to the next are immeasurable. I think even my anger and resentment have become tools to gain focus.
In my clarity of thought there has come this realization that I am inherently distracted. This vexes me. The thought of “if I only had more focus” has been tormenting me more lately. My therapist suggested I be tested for ADHD and to see if a low dose of medication might help. To that end I scheduled some testing in the next couple months, so we’ll see. Partially though, I may have to accept this as being a part of me and develop a few (more) coping mechanisms.
(I have no clue why I’m waxing into a metaphor, but maybe it will help bring some understanding).