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Hyper Fixation and the Curse of Momentum
I’ve said it before—maybe not here, but I’ve said it. ADHD is a hell of a drug. There’s this classic notion that ADHD means you have trouble focusing or paying attention. People assume you have the attention span of a goldfish, and honestly, sometimes that’s true.
The real truth is a little more complicated, though. ADHD doesn’t mean I can’t focus. More specifically, it means I don’t know how to focus on the right things. Hyper fixation. It means that sometimes, I get so consumed by one particular thing that everything else just sort of vanishes—and I mean everything.
Hyper fixation is what makes me late for meetings. Hyper fixation is what has me scrambling to get my shoes on because that “one more thing” I had to finish was 2 hours ago. Then there’s my personal favorite: That moment when you realize your stomach is shouting “Hey, dumb ass, you forgot to eat today.”
Always Moving Forward
Sometimes that hyper fixation can be a good thing. Sometimes. I thrive on momentum. As long as I’m making progress, I can keep going. It’s like a giant boulder sitting at the top of a hill. It’s going to take a minute to get things rolling, but once it starts, get out of the way.
Strike that. It’s more like a treadmill. The damn thing is running whether I like it or not. Most people can handle slowing down. When it’s time to switch gears, they dial it back and transition to a nice, gentle stop. I’m not most people.
If I break stride. If I lose an ounce of momentum, then I lose it all—often in spectacular fashion. The train derails, the creative energy escapes, and I have no idea how to get it back.
Agitation and Interruptions
I get irritable when things disrupt my momentum. If I’m in the zone—if I’m on task, then I need to stay there until it’s done. Derailed creativity is nothing short of infuriating. I fall into this rut of writing and rewriting the same few sentences a thousand different ways trying to find the perfect combination of words that puts me back on track, but now that I've broken out of that trance, I’m suddenly hyper aware aware of everything else around me.
Like my washing machine. It’s a much slower tempo, but its making this buzzing noise to the rhythm of the Duck Tales theme song—which is oddly similar to the Ninja Turtles. That’s right, Mutant Mayhem just came out recently, and I’ve been dying to see it. I wonder if we can go next week. Who am I kidding.is launching that Kickstarter soon, and I’ve got a lot of writing to do ahead of this weekend so I can play Starfield on Friday night.
And this entire train of thought started because my kid asked for water while I was trying to write a completely different section whose meaning is now lost forever. Awesome.
The thing is, I can’t even pretend like this is an exaggeration or some made up scenario, because that’s exactly what happened, and I’m about ten seconds from slamming my laptop shut and calling it a day.
The Next Obsession
My life is a revolving door of mini obsessions. I start a project, hit my stride, and I run with it relentlessly for as long as I can keep my footing.
The projects I really care about always circle back around eventually, but each time, it feels like I'm starting from square one—especially with things like Building Aluron.
That's a huge part of what led me to start publishing chapters here. If—I mean when I lose momentum, I can pick up where I left off. Starting over isn't an option because now this story is out there, so I have to run with it. I have to keep moving forward.
But right now, in this moment, Building Aluron is barely on my radar, and not because I'm trying to remember the chorus to that song I heard on the radio (though that is bothering me a little bit…).
The next obsession has already taken hold, and this one has a deadline. The next obsession is the start of something big, and I am all in.
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