Somewhere on the Gulf Coast of FL

It’s 4:30 am, and very dark. There are no outside lights because they would disturb the turtles on the beach (something to do with either mating or hatching eggs…not sure). The weather forecast is for partly cloudy, but right now it is mostly cloudy and very little moonlight. I’ve been sitting here for about an hour.

Until recently, I’ve rarely taken time to just sit. As an ADHD person, sitting is not one of my strong points. Even now, I have to suppress that desire to get up and do something. But I’m learning. I guess because I was always doing something, I never noticed too much how other people were. Oh, I occasionally thought maybe some folks were “lazy” because they didn’t get up at 5 and go until midnight. And I’ll admit, I wondered about people who took an entire afternoon, sitting in their recliners/sofas and watched a ballgame.

When Nancy became ill, I found myself in a foreign land. I’ve always been susceptible to stress (but think I deal with it well) and lack of sleep, but rarely have I found myself dysfunctional…or at least to that point. Many mornings I found myself sitting out back with Max and Molly, literally stunned into inaction. My body rebelled and refused to get up and go, and my mind sometimes felt locked down. I couldn’t think about work, houses, or worse, financial issues. Oh, I didn’t shut completely down, I pushed myself into doing what needed doing, but that first hour was a new time for me.

Gradually, I turned to prayer and a lot of self-examination. I’ve an innate sense of curiousity, and I just had to take apart feelings and thoughts. The more I looked inward, I found the better I felt outward (most of the time). Was this meditation? Those who are left-brained (those infuriatingly logical people) who never experience ADHD won’t understand this breakthrough. For those few who live daily with the fast-pace of ADHD, you’ll get it. It’s like the image I once saw of an interstate with layers and layers of interchanges and suddenly they all were at a standstill.

And like a traveler on that interstate, at first I wonder what caused the standstill. I keep waiting for traffic to resume. After a while, I step out, looking behind me, in front, wondering how long this will take. Eventually, I resign myself to the fact that I need to make the best of it, so I find a napkin (left from fast food, no doubt) and use it to wipe down the dashboard. Then, I start straightening up the glove box. Still no movement? I fish an old plastic bag from under the seat and set to cleaning out the entire car. I remember I have some spray stuff in the trunk, so I work on the tires. I step back and wonder why I never took time to clean my vehicle.

Such is my time alone now. Why didn’t I take time to clean out my mind, organize my thoughts, or take time to talk to God?

I hear the sound of traffic in the background and realize I have one tire shiny, the other three still dirty, but it is a start.

This morning, I hear the coffee pot as it finishes. My internal traffic is starting up. I look out the window just as there is a break in the clouds. I can see the shoreline, with a few spots of white sand peeking through the trees. My thoughts may not be completely organized, but I've started. With one shiny tire, I’m ready to face the day.