ADHD and life and photos

About a year ago, I started realising that what I’d identified as chronic procrastination was either not that or a symptom of something else that might be more important to figure out.

It was while working from home that I noticed I needed tangible deadlines to do work I found creatively challenging. Having a couple of unengaging articles to write over the course of a few weeks during the summer with a deadline “sometime in September” did not cut the mustard, one might say, and so I spent hours each day wasting time, feeling lazy, stupid and pointless, only to smash them out in a couple of hours on the second last day of August.

I started googling around, as one does when researching procrastination as an actual method of procrastination. I learned a lot, including that many of my lifelong motivation-related woes could be potentially explained by a disorder of my executive function and a selective attention deficit. If you read the headline, you’ll know where this is going.

I won’t bore anyone with the details of my self-diagnosis but, suffice to say, the rundown I gave the psychiatrist I was eventually referred to was enough for her to tell me she was fairly convinced.

The catch, she said, was that I seemed to have tailored myself a work, household and family life that functioned fairly smoothly and that the Swedish psychiatric system would be unlikely to consider me to be suffering badly enough to warrant a diagnosis.

Sure enough, the letter arrived a month ago, telling me in no uncertain terms that I did not meet the state’s definition of disabled, and would therefore not be assessed.

As a little, snarky aside, the response noted my apparently aggressive nature could be explained by a social disorder. Thank you very much.

The rest of this post is going to have to be a bit of a mish mash because I’m just really not feeling the flow tonight and am writing this whole thing on a total whim, so here are a series of things:

I once had a Facebook page dedicated to pictures of mushrooms with famous quotes superimposed over them, with just one of the words changed to “mushroom”, which I thought was somehow not only hysterical but also perhaps might go viral, which it did not. I’m not sure why it matters so much to be, but I find it quite upsetting that it didn’t gain more traction.

Tonight, Elsie really wanted to see pictures of green tombstones before bed. On being granted her request, she wanted to know who was buried under each of them. I obviously didn’t know.

I generally assume new releases from artists I’ve liked for a long time will definitely suck, for absolutely no reason, and because I hate to be disappointed and also hate listening to music I don’t like, I then just don’t listen to them for years after they’re dropped until, one day, I just suddenly play it on repeat for a few weeks. As a result, I somehow only just discovered that the “new” Bright Eyes album, Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was is exactly as good as their old stuff, and that bits of the last two years of my life could have had a different soundtrack if only I’d been willing to risk disappointment a little earlier. Not important.

I’m thinking of trying to do a photography trading project in my local area. I think it might be fun to take a handful of photos for local businesses in exchange for something they specialise in – a good or a service. What do you think? Win-win, right?

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Lily Ray
Lily Ray

Journalist, photographer, traveller and knitter. Mother to a small but demanding infant, Lily's life is messy but generally lovely. She has a lot of thoughts. Here is where she puts them.

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