Writing Challenge Day 18
Work in Progress
In all my 48 years, I still manage to surprise myself. How resilient, resourceful, inventive, and adventurous I am. How accepting, curious, and honest to others and myself. I’ve collected so many skills and knowledge along the way—it’s incredible. But let’s be real: being able to access all that info when I actually need it? That’s a whole different story. Add my lack of executive functioning and emotional regulation to the mix, and things can get... messy. Actually, “messy” is putting it lightly. Let’s call it what it is: unfiltered outbursts of frustration.
There is that moment just before I hit complete overwhelm. When I wish with every ounce of my being I could pause, take a deep breath, count to ten, and reel myself back in. That’s the door I always try to find in my brain, but I’m usually too late. By the time it hits, the dark cloud of overwhelm fills the hallways and fogs up my eyes, turning the content signs on the doors into unlegible symbols. It’s already too late. Chaos erupts inside my brain, every door flies open at once, spilling out a flood of emotions, thoughts, and stress. It’s utterly disorienting. The wires that light my way have been yanked from the sockets, leaving me in the dark. And the rage that comes with it? It’s like a storm coursing through my veins. It’s heavy, it’s suffocating, and I hate it.
I’ve been fighting this battle for as long as I can remember. I never want it to happen, of course. Why would I? But it creeps up sometimes. It can be as small as being unable to find my keys. That tiny, frustrating moment suddenly is too much—an impenetrable cloud of panic and dread. I hadn’t noticed sending too many filled-to-the-brim elevators of worries and anxiety up to the top floor of my brain for sorting. By the time I realise it, the top floor is full, the alarms are blaring, and the doors are bursting open. There’s no gentle warning, no neon sign that says, “Hey, maybe you should stop, breathe, and count to five.” Nope—it just hits like a freight train.
At least, since my ADHD diagnosis, I’ve started to understand where all this comes from. That’s been a huge step forward for me. Working on techniques to handle it? Also great. Actually getting to the “count to ten” door in time? Still a major work in progress.
That’s why my morning routine has become so important. It’s my safety net—my way of building a foundation for the day ahead. A walk with Mr. Toby and some time tending to the passion fruit vine do wonders for getting those endorphins flowing. They give me a chance to settle my mind and reset. Throughout the day, I’ve started making little adjustments: keeping snacks on hand, drinking more water, actually having lunch (most days), and even lying down for 15 minutes before the kids get home. It’s not perfect and will always remain an issue, but the adjustments make a world of difference.
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