It’s hard thing to admit my identity is not so secure. Something that the idea of me has been wrapped up in since the last day of 8th grade. It’s hard to admit it that I haven’t been writing.
We’re in year two of that fact.
It’s not that I don’t want to. I think about stories. I’ve been weaving the plot lines in my head. Thinking up character sketches.
I don’t want to stop writing. I don’t feel like I have a lot of accountability. That’s why I set up a Twitch stream to give myself kind of a deadline. That has been helping….even through I went of the rails a few times and painted instead.
I don’t hate any of the things I’m not doing…I’m just not doing them. I’m told this is part of the ADHD. That I’m overwhelmed is only part of the story. I have time…even if I can’t find it. Or I lose it, like tonight. It’s nine pm now but I was sure that it was only five thirty a few minutes ago. What changed besides a pandemic? Structure. My life has been a certain thing which I’ve had to adhere to for twenty-ish years and then it changed. I wasn’t responsible for another life anymore. I moved to Idaho and started over not knowing that would be the trigger which started breaking things down. While had a bit of responsibility for awhile the cracks were getting difficult to cover up. I’m told that’s when ADHD is usually found in adults, when they are left to survive on their own, without responsibility.
Maybe if can write blog post on Mondays, and world building on Wednesdays, I can get to a point where I’m writing again. Not sure what I’ll do about having to write things over and over again. I’m out of practice, little at it as I was, at finding things I didn’t don’t remember writing replacing things I thought I had.