Let’s talk inability to sit still. Let’s talk about those times when stillness only allows a sense of sandpaper on the inner side of the skin to take hold.
Standing in the back, in the dark, in a theater of 900 people…the show is fantastic. World-renowned and funny as hell. I cannot stand still in the pauses between jokes. I cannot stand still in the middle of them. I can’t stop thinking about the feeling of the wooden banister under my chin, and it’s cold, and then my legs fele uncomfortable, and then I shift from foot to foot. I try and it incites mild dread and almost-panic. Then I just want to detach from the room, and the people in it. I think about my dog. I think about crying.
I think I’ll go up to my office and sit in the dark and listen to music.
Sit in the sadness in a place where I don’t have to judge it.
Where I don’t have to hide it.
Where I can sit still because my mind can be occupied.
This is why people with ADHD become workaholics. Because we cannot find peace in moments that make other people laugh. I’ve moved away from that -ism quite a bit but I cannot totally control it. It’s an interesting experiment to try to make yourself just “be” when you literally can’t.
I understand my restlessness and my anxiety and my sadness so much better now. Now I identify it more quickly, just accept it and give it space to be. No wasted energy of questioning…energy that mills itself quickly into a roiling anxiety and near panic…and flight. Now, the flight is conscious, controlled…as controlled as it can be when the urgency of thought and movement are belligerent and rough, disregarding my humanity and relentless in their expectations.
900 people laugh just a few rooms away. I’m alone in the dark and it soothes me more than any comedy can.