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October 7, 2004
Mental Clutter
This has been a particularly ADHD-riddled week for me, and I’m in an especially difficult time at the moment. My medication is working the way it’s supposed to, that is, I’m not having the impulsivity problems (saying inappropriate things for no apparent reason), I can carry on a conversation to some degree of normalcy, and I can sit still for extended periods of time.
No, what’s going on is the stuff the medicine doesn’t seem to help with. Keeping my mind focused on things that don’t particularly interest me. Like work.
What I am doing for money right now involves writing scripts for voice on hold for companies who don’t want to keep their callers bored while they’re on hold. Since I get paid by the piece, the more pieces I produce the more I get paid. On a good day I can whack out what I need to produce a living income in four or five hours.
Now, think about it. I have the opportunity to make everything I need to make in a week in twenty-five hours, on my schedule and in my home. This is pretty easy stuff, right?
Of course, the scripts are repetitive—each one little different from the last. And I’m working from my computer, with Internet browsers open, because I have to get details for these companies from their websites. And I’m distracted by phone calls, mail, and the million other things I’m supposed to be doing over the course of a day, like eBay, chatting with friends, write this blog...
Or my 11-year old Persian cat, Joplin, dragging his ass across the floor to get the shit off of it because he’s got arthritis in his back legs and his fur picks up whatever he deposits in the litterbox, and since because of the pain he doesn’t like to walk around very often he makes sure he does it close to where he rests, which is right under my desk…
It’s so easy to blame my parents for not providing me the coping skills I need to make it through these times, or Michael for being so idiotic and get in such bad trouble that he has to be confined at a prison camp for 2+ years, or society in general for not recognizing that enough of us have special conditions that there needs to be some sort of help available. But blame is never a solution. It’s not my Mom’s, or my Dad’s or Michael’s responsibility to see that I meet my obligations today—it’s mine, and if there’s going to be a solution, it has to start with me.
I need a coach. I need someone to help me learn to prioritize on a daily basis. I need someone to help me learn to schedule my time effectively. I need someone to stand over my shoulder from time to time and make sure that sticking to that schedule.
I have a letter to write to the Florida Insurance Commission telling them how United Healthcare has completely ignored my correspondence with them and that they need to take it to the next level. I have a time-share that I can’t afford and that I have to finally sell, some way or another. I have credit card bills to consolidate. I have auto insurance to pay, or to see if I can’t get my bills lowered. I have a home to organize and clean up. I have a book to edit.
Any volunteers?
Posted by Bastique at October 7, 2004 11:02 PM