Oh, ADD. I’ve never been officially diagnosed, but I and my many personalities know all too well that it’s true. Take this blog, for instance. I started out thinking I’d share about all the wonderful things being ultra-sensitive has done for me in my life. And then it became a wheat- and dairy-free product blog. But I can’t even seem to stay focused on that.
I’m trying to “trust in the process of self-expression,” as my horoscope instructed me to do a week or so ago, but I feel myself being pulled in so many different directions that I’m surprised my head isn’t physically spinning. I’ve been clinging to my chemistry textbooks and soaking in non-fiction foodie diatribes and documentaries of late, telling myself I’m meant to be a student, and a scholar—not an artist. Perhaps, I suggest to my stifled inner child, I’ll find a way to combine the interests of the artistic self with those of the studious, cause-seeking self, but—seeing as how I’ve never been too adept at multi-tasking—don’t get your hopes up.
Truth be told, it’s been a while since I’ve tapped into my creativity. But this blog, however simple and silly it may be, is absolutely awakening something in me. Suddenly, I’m not only taking pictures of cereal boxes and popsicle sticks and simultaneously venting about and celebrating life as a food-sensitive sweet tooth; I’m writing songs again, and actually wanting to share them (yes, I sing, too).
I think I just need to embrace the fact that my artistic soul has been suffering a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder for these past many months. I won’t go into the details of said trauma, but it’s been enough to silence that most sacred part of myself for far too long: my voice. We've all got one, but sadly, only some of us ever really learn how to use it.