Ghosts in The Attic

I accept that I am hopelessly ADHD. I struggle with executive function in every sense of the word. I can’t plan anything, except planning to buy planners that I fill out one week of and set on the shelf to never be opened again. I can’t manage time for the life of me. I make plans to be responsible, only for those plans to fall through. I wake up gung-ho about getting things done, only to be completely derailed by something ridiculous. Currently that hyperfixation encompasses a few different things, all of which are huge time sinks. I am obsessed with creating at least one costume for the upcoming renfaire in a couple months. This has led to me looking at every type of clothing from every type of retailer trying to scour the ends of the earth for the pieces that I envision. Then I think about what cool things I could be wearing. I am feeling more confident in myself and have the desire to change my appearance again, and go down the goth whimsy path. So there’s another derailment of thought “Oh lets check Mercari and see if there’s anything new”. Hours I have wasted wandering around the internet looking at relatively nothing.

In the same mid-life crisis vein, I have created a tattoo design for me and my husband that I just went to an artist to get in the works. I have been obsessed with getting a new tattoo and coming up with the exact right piece led me to draw my own. In the past two months I have gotten two tattoos and two piercings. Maybe I am just not satisfied. Maybe it is the lingering feeling that the person I see in the mirror isn’t who I envision on the inside.

I don’t know if this is an ADHD thing or a me thing, but if you read my last post then you may realize that I am constantly in some kind of identity crisis. I don’t belong to anything, I don’t fit in anywhere, I’m awkward and weird, and struggle to be friends with anyone in real life. If there is anything consistent about me, frankly it’s that I will probably flake out on plans; feeling anxiety and an inability to keep track of time properly. Every day I seems I find a new way to feel anxiety, and simultaneously waste my own time. I perpetually feel guilty about this as well as hopeful that maybe one day I will find a hobby, a schedule, or some miracle that will make me both feel productive and purposeful.