Some thoughts on living with ADHD, shame, and confusion, the human experience, creativity, and beauty, sprinkled with hope.
It is early. It is Sunday morning. I can not sleep.
My mind won't let me be. It tells me to get up, to share this poem today.
I am still me.
I have a really exciting job opportunity starting. I have a committed husband who is helping me be better. I have two beautiful boys. I have my dream house. I have a dog and a cat. Yet recently, I have seen the pain of friends losing their mom to cancer. I have seen a nation divided by racism, religion, sexism, and fear. I have seen rejection. I have seen death. I have seen fear.
I have realized how my seeking perfection has been a pursuit of purity. The contradictions and paradoxes that are alive in our world, and within my very being, make me uncomfortable. I want to experience pure joy, pure hope, and pure beauty. I do not want to live in the constant life and death. I do not want to live in the constant summer and winter. I do not want to live, as Charles Dickens writes, in "the best of times and the worst of times."
But I have never been good at hiding. So I remain, honestly, in both. I remain in the chaos and confusion and fear that hope, kindness, generosity, and love bring. I remain broken and beautiful. I remain as imperfect art, a mosaic mess. I remain in the human experience as uncomfortable as it is at times.
i don't know why i keep pressing, don't know why i still push
when i just keep making messes, each step feels like an ambush
are they watching and waiting? are they hiding and lurking?
because everyone knows, i don't know how this life's working
it's like me in a mess, and a mess within me,
yet there's nowhere to hide, and i don't feel free
it's like me in the wreckage, and the wreckage in me,
confusion takes over as i ride the waves of my pleas
i throw myself in, then painfully pull my self out
my life is like the hokey pokey as i'm shaken about
no matter how hard i try to escape the roller coaster of emotions
i just keep crashing down to the lowest assumptions
hope keeps blowing up before it is fully formed
explosions of mayhem and chaos are so often the norm
it's like your mind has a switch, make it more or less bright
but i dwell in the scattered, the constant strobe lights
it's like i'm doing it all wrong, making up all my own rules
the toolbox that i got, is missing the most basic human tools
yet i keep trying to play, but i don't know the game
so i sit this one out, i am benched in my shame
but it isn't all sorrow, we are all a mix bag,
but it's like my bag is bursting, and i forgot to cut off the tag
i am full of beauty and magic, despite the distress
like genius and art, hidden in an elaborate mess
i fight for the good, but it's whimsical like a feather
and i keep on trying, but i can't tie all these clouds together
feeling feeble and futile, creating turmoil and debris
it's a mosaic mess, that's what it's like to be me
Beauta Ratuszniak https://unsplash.com/@beataratuszniak