Tag Archives: memory

ADHD writer?

I realised for years I said I was hypoactive but really it’s hyperactive – didn’t know they were two very different things!  I certainly don’t have any problem with my sex drive, not that you’d be interested anyway – but, there you go!

Why am I babbling on about this?  Because I wanted it to be clear that I have a hyperactive mind and when my body allows it a hyperactive body too!  Because of this I find it hard to concentrate on things for longer than fifteen to twenty five minutes a time – a long stretch for me – in fact, even ten minutes occasionally is stretching the boundaries of what I can do!

I have to change tasks or I suppose they call it fidget, if I am made to do something for longer than fifteen minutes.

When I am writing – anything, no matter how my flow is or not, I have to stand up randomly, dance whilst writing and even sing!  I need a lot of stimulus all the time when I am writing, but preferably nothing that means I need to communicate with others verbally.  For example, I need music or I need background television turned on something akin to what I am trying to write. 

I will pause as I write and make notes, I will observe the wildlife through a nearby window and I will pet my pets.  After around fifteen minutes of writing, I will check social media and stay there for around ten minutes before hopping back into writing, sometimes quite literally!

I am going to buy a standard desk and put it next to my sitting desk and have the laptop and my desktop on at the same time, so that eventually I can update my cloud with my stories on them and get up from the desk and use the laptop and type whilst standing up – this would benefit my health immensely, whilst catering to my ADHD.

In between writing and social media there are two or three online games I play whilst taking a break from those – such as ovipets.com, candy crush and paper Io.

Sometimes when I get physically jittery, I will randomly get up and walk around the garden once and come back to writing. 

I basically just can’t sit on my buns all day and write; fifteen minutes can sometimes be torture!

On days when my main isn’t so bad, I become really hyperactive as a writer and can write in excess of 4k words in that day and sometimes I have been known to reach 12k in a day!

But these days only tend to happen when my physical pain is significantly low for the day!

I get a lot of people who disbelieve that I can do this, that I can push out more than two thousand words in a day, especially when as far as they are concerned they think I haven’t left twitter for hours!  When in actuality, I have it opened on a tab on my computer and I am only really going back and forth from twitter approximately every fifteen minutes sometimes more, because I get side-tracked with games and other things too!

I just needed this to get out there… I need people to know just how I do things, because it is frustrating that nobody seems to believe me at times.

What makes it worse is my memory.

I endeavour every day to post a word count list, but I often forget to do this and I even forget to add the hand written notes and the laptop additions I do at night after I have shut social media down. 

I am even forgetting to update my goodreads.com account regularly these days, because I am so absorbed in reading and writing and then after two weeks I’ve added that I have read three books seemingly over night, when in fact it was over the two week period!

I am all over the place, I seem disorganised and frantic, but actually I feel quite serene, happy and I am a pedant in organising things – it’s just other people who don’t respect my stuff and move things, that cause chaos in my life!  I am incredibly OCD about things and it drives me nuts living in a house where someone is not meticulous like me and will throw a spanner in my neat and tidy works!

I had spent three weeks once re-arranging all of my books alphabetically and within certain genres around the house, for people to want to browse through my books and dump them wherever they like; same for my DVDs.

I have a pile of papers next to my desk and when I am in bed asleep, as my sleeping schedule is anywhere between 3am and 1pm, usually 5am to 11am if I am honest – I find that someone has opened a window in the living room near my desk and the papers have been blown everywhere and they’ve tried to save my work by not looking at the page numbers and randomly compiling them together again, with a shoe print on one or two and then they wonder why I get mad!

Sometimes a note will blow away without me realising it and ends up under the sofa for months and things like this or little files I have in another room get knocked over by people and they fall out their little plastic pockets and behind a dusty old cabinet and nobody has told me they couldn’t be bothered to rescue it and I find it weeks later covered in spider poo.

It’s hard to be a writer here with that going on, it’s even harder when you have ADHD, OCD and another problem I don’t have a name for, when you’ve found your stuff being disrespected like that you get so upset and disheartened you can’t bring yourself to work that day because you have to try and clean it all up and retype it or cry yourself back to sleep because you fell into a depressive nap.  Whatever that mental problem is, I have that too!

So there you have it, that’s how I work.

I can’t help it and I have tried to change, but its impossible.

Thanks for reading! 

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Filed under About my work

A spider’s suicide note or…

I was looking for something today around the house, looking high and low and then I found a small folded up piece of paper with a dead spider on it.

I paused what I was doing and held my hand up to Paul who was talking to me “wait a moment” I said, “I have to read this suicide note from this spider”!  Puzzled he walked off half laughing. 

I opened the piece of folded paper tentatively to see if it was indeed a suicide note from a spider but it wasn’t!  I was surprised to find an excerpt from a story I decided to abandon for a while.  The spider either died of horror at the bad writing that was on the page or it decided to do a protest suicide to make me re-add this scene into the story, which one is true, I have no idea.

It could be just a case of the spider being in the wrong place at the wrong time and just randomly died on the page, but I like to be philosophical about things.

What do you think was the meaning of the spider?

Thanks for reading!

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Filed under Brain Drain

A plan, lost time and mindless jealousy

Going back to my post about social media from the other day, I have decided today to make a list of people to watch on social media to try and make me more social with the people I love speaking to and getting replies from.  It will help me manage things better, I am a person surrounded by endless lists for things because my illness can make me too preoccupied with trying to manage my symptoms such as coughing mucus several times an hour and that sort of thing, that I can often forget to do important things such as drinking fluids, eating and even socialising.   

Paul has suggested in saving up to get an Alexa for me, so that it can remind me every half an hour to take a sip of my drink because it is becoming a big problem for me and he thought as well that this can remind me to eat and even socialise.  I sometimes go two weeks between reading emails too, because on bad days (and I am getting more and more of them) two weeks can feel like two days to me, there are times where I haven’t spoken to my favourite cousin online for six months, but to me it feels like two weeks, when I look at the last time stamp I apologise profusely for the time span between our last chats and overcompensate by talking for three hours when I do finally get to contact them again.  It is bad to consider that I make more posts for my blog than I do in contacting people I know in reality.

I really do lose such big chunks of time because of my illness, I go into a groundhog day whilst the entire world moves on and have normal different days and they get to partake in the events of the future whilst I am still struggling to breath and thinking its Sunday.  Henry comes into my bedroom to shake me awake as I am too deaf to hear him say good morning until I put my hearing aids in and I ask him;

“Why are you wearing your uniform on Sunday”? 

“It’s Thursday mum” he says.

“Oh that happened quickly”, I say whilst trying not to fall back to sleep.

But a lot of the time I don’t go back to sleep for twenty minutes because my chest needs clearing and I have to go to pee, but it is a struggle to get there whilst choking and I have a bucket midway between the bedroom and the bathroom because I often choke so bad I vomit.

On bad days those coughing fits don’t calm down for nearly two hours before I can rest again.  It is difficult to be like this when my personal doctors surgery is only opened for 8am to 4pm every day and they prefer to use after 12pm as emergencies only – I never really had a planned appointment from the doctors because my personal GP rarely works the emergency shift and if I want to see him I need to wake up around 5am just to clear my chest, get dressed and eat then rest for an hour after eating just to get to see him for 10am, they are aware of this but I am sure they think I exaggerate!

If I get the flu it lasts for 4 to 8 weeks on me because by the 5th day it always turns into bronchitis and by 2 weeks it goes into borderline pneumonia or pleurisy, doctors are worried by this, it is happen too often and I am showing signs of antibiotic resistance too!  

To all those people who work full-time and hate on people like me who rely on benefits to live and often say venomously how they wished they had my life sitting back watching TV all day instead of working – well I beg your pardon, most of the time I am too deaf to watch too much TV because of severe ear infections and I can’t hear music either during my bad days, all I get to do is read or be online and sitting at a desk is tiring, so you want my life huh?  You can have it if I can have yours!  I’d love nothing better than to work if it means I get great health with it and a great social life!

Welcome to my life for the last seven years, pretty isn’t it?  Yes, please do be jealous of this so-called lazy fat bitch, because my life is great isn’t it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under About Me

Creativity & self-esteem

A unicorn skips across the meadow into a world you can only imagine

It bounds to places unknown to man

It does so, because it can

A ghost is just a whisper of a past lived in flesh

Its message is not always clear but it is always received with gooseflesh

A memory is like a ghost, it shimmers in the mind

A glimpse of the past like a silhouette clings to you in a bind

Some are happy, some are sad, some are good and some are bad

Like the creatures in your head, a memory is good when it is fed

So dream your little dreams some more

Wallow in their scenes

Treasure each little pocket

Though it may never been seen

For you live a creative life, though wasteful it does seem

The pictures that are in your mind, helps your self-esteem

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Filed under poetry

it should be simple

Wistful I have been, thinking of my road to home

Will I ever get there? I’ve had far enough to roam

How simple the little quest should be, to get from A to B

But not for someone who’s not from here, not for someone like me

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Filed under poetry

Rainy memories

Darkness is wrapping itself around me today

It is getting stormy

The rain trickles down my window

The air is getting damp

My bones start creaking with the weather

My muscles start to cramp

But I look on, out that window

To see what weather does

I see grass waving at me in the wind

The atmosphere has a buzz

I feel so sleepy watching this

I dream of better days

But whilst I sit here watching it all

The fire is ablaze

I am wrapped up nice and warm

Watching this rainy weather

Then I sigh and think of you

And how we were together

A smile forms upon my face of memories almost forgotten

How soft your skin was in those days, almost like pure cotton

I fall asleep in my chair, with the memories I hold of you

And I dream of times that were from past, before your sudden adieu

You will live on in my heart; there you’ll always have a place

I remember fondly your sweet and smiling face

I will join you shortly dear

My life has been long but good

And together we’ll be in heaven

Just like lovers should

 

 

 

 

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Filed under poetry

story within a poem

Snatched by the nanny, yes I remember that the family servant ran off with me like a rat

I will always remember the last day I was with them and the night I knew so well

The strange visits that used to happen, she thought she had me under a spell

But those memories never ceased but grew, will you stop sending me the darn flu?

I want to know why you did it?  And why you’re intent in breaking my spirit?

Did you know me in another life, is that why you’re held bent in causing me strife?

Just to let you know, I now hold the knife

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Legend of the gargoyle

There was once an ancient legend in our land, that deemed that no heart should be broken by man, for if he did a spell be cast, that this wretched human to stone be cast, to exist as a gargoyle upon the walls of Snell, our beloved fortress we love so well.

It is said in the dead of night a fair young maiden received this plight, a young stranger came to our land and made a promise to this maiden’s hand, a ring he bestowed upon her finger but the little louse he did not linger.

But before the gates had time to open the spell was cast and his image broken, with a contorted grin and piercing eyes, claw like nails he’ll be despised.  A memory of a loveless night, revenge is sweet and it served him right.

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Filed under Short Stories

memory of home

There is a massive incline leading up to the house

An avenue of ash trees divided by a road

It will soon flatten out when we get to the top

Its beauty makes my heart implode

A fountain just afore the porch

Where little children play

I remember it all so clearly

Like it was yesterday…

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Filed under poetry

Ode to domestic violence

Treason, my heart suffered treason

At your hand and your doings

When you hit me my heart broke

And on my tears I did choke a question why?

Why did you leave me this way?

A place where I dread to wake

A memory of violence for violence’s sake

That was your mistake

I need to go now

Away from you

I need to leave you

Your heart isn’t true

For if you loved me

You’d have kept me like a precious statue of glass

Your test you didn’t pass

I am going

At last

For some reason as I wrote this I had a nice, cool, reggae beat at the back of my mind, this had full intentions of being a song but for some reason I heard it in my mind as a reggae style, but I couldn’t improve it, I felt it would have been ruined if I made it any longer.

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Filed under poetry