What I often do is count thoughts.
I count the thoughts I have most often.
Thoughts about you.
Thoughts about others, and about myself.
Because what you think about says everything about you.
Maybe this sounds a little airy; that’s not how I mean it.
I count them and I write them down.
Some thoughts return several times a day.
Some thoughts tell me something about the state of my body, or parts of it.
Some thoughts I physically attack within myself.
Some thoughts help me, and set boundaries where they are needed.
What I’ve come to realize is that there are almost no bad thoughts.
Even the darkest ones are usually just trying to help you.
If your thoughts come too quickly one after another, take a moment of rest.
Then the waves become less intense.
Working in Circles
Both people with ADD and people without ADD work in circles.
The difference is that people with ADD work in small circles: this means you make short bursts, so you work on one thing for a much shorter time.
People often confuse this with “never finishing anything.” If you work in short bursts, it can seem like you never finish anything, because you switch tasks more frequently.
That’s not true: when something is finished is highly arbitrary. If my mother sees me cleaning, what I’m doing isn’t “finished” according to her. When I see other people doing my work, I don’t think it’s “finished” either. It all depends on the level of depth you’re looking at.
The advantage of small circles is that you can do multiple different things. The downside is that you’re more likely to feel like you’re losing overview.
If your reference point is finishing one job from start to finish — let’s say you want to fold the laundry — then you only succeed when you do it from start to finish.
The thing is this:
Let’s say your circle is only this task. Now the house floods because of a leak. What do you do? Do you keep folding laundry? Of course not.
Your circles change all the time.
Beautiful Thoughts
A few times a day, at least, I think:
Holy shit—I’m alive.
How amazing is that?
I can breathe.
I can feel.
I can press my hands against my body and sensation appears.
I feel compassion for those who realize this too late.
It’s astonishing. You are like a commander inside a body, able to travel from your fingertips to your toes. There is always something new to notice.
The warmth of sunlight on your face.
A night spent thinking about people you miss.
The quiet shift of the seasons.
Coffee—and my new milk frother.