Are You There, Leslie? It’s Me, Your Point

Are You There, Leslie? It’s Me, Your Point

BY LESLIE KENDALL DYE

Let me begin by saying —

No. Wait.

Let me start again.

There are approximately 10,000 ways I could commence, and my brain is aware of each and every one of them, and they are all vying to be the one. They are all screaming, pick me! And they all shout at the same volume — loud. And with the same tone — demanding. 

I am trying to tell you the story of how I move through my day. That is, the way someone with ADHD gets out of bed in the morning and how it goes from there. (I have not gotten out of bed yet, so that’s how that’s going.)

Let me begin again. 

But first — one more story. No, it’s not tangential, I swear. (Although to me, there is no such thing as a tangent. All ideas are of equal relevance to every topic at all times.)

This is not the story, but before I forget, I want to tell you about Cesare Pavese, who once wrote that “the only joy in the world is to begin.” I recognize a neurodivergent kindred spirit from this single assertion alone. Because this is far from a universal belief. Lots of people are happy in the middle, or even at the end, or — gasp — they enjoy all the moments on a project’s timeline.

But to those of us whose thoughts and plans and conversations splinter from the moment they come into being, the beginning is a holy site, a Mecca, a promised land of unpolluted clarity. It is here I can experience spiritual — if brief — ecstasy — that blink-and-you-miss-it moment before a thought divides. 

Let me illustrate my challenges by describing my husband, who is my very opposite. I’m fragmented. He’s compartmentalized. Kerry can finish a sentence without interrupting himself. He thinks one thought at a time, and he thinks it thoroughly. 

Which brings me to that one more story I mentioned: Kerry and I get on the subway the other day, and we settle into our seats, and I guess we are talking about something, but I don’t know what, because I hear EVERY WORD of conversation uttered on the 1 train. I hear it all — and now I need answers to the 1,000 questions I have in response.  

And so I say to Kerry, “How can I go on without finding out what happened on her date with Paul after he spilled wine on her silk dress?” And Kerry says, “Whose date? And who is Paul?” And I say, “I have to know why that guy’s sister hung up on him! Crap! He’s getting off!” And Kerry says, “WHO?” And I say, “That man! That man in the 3-piece suit who’s practically crying — never mind, he’s gone.” Then I turn to Kerry and strive to hear only him. But first, I need a question answered.  

“Do you really not hear all the things people are saying?”  

Kerry thinks. “No. I don’t. I guess I have a filter to tune it out.”

Exactly!! Dear reader, loveable reader, brave and patient reader, that is where I diverge from Kerry and countless others on the planet whose numbers are greater than those who don’t diverge — those whose executives malfunction. (We do, by the way, have an executive, same as everyone else, but that executive doesn’t have an administrative assistant to hold calls, messages, and other distractions until the executive emerges from his/her/their office. Meanwhile, Kerry’s executive has an assistant worth 8 times his weight in gold.) 

Which brings me back to my original goal: providing you, gentle reader, with my incomplete-but-deeply-considered list of strategies for progressing beyond the joy of beginning — and actually finishing what you start. (Wait—was that my original goal? Either way, it’s a good one.) As only you can truly understand, it is a labor of love, never-finished, always striving, like boats against the current yada yada.

Strategies For Organizing The Non-Linear Mind:

1. Typing lists. 

2. No — don’t type, write them by hand. Studies show you are more likely to remember something you’ve written in pen than in software. 

3. Write several lists according to different themes. 

4. Cross-reference these lists. For example, calling to pay a medical bill to prevent your account from going to collection might appear on a “Monday” list, but also on a “This is Serious” list, as well as a “You’ll feel so relieved once these things are done” list. 

5. Clever use of geography. Lists on the fridge, lists taped to the vanity mirror, handwritten signage encouraging the maker of the lists to PLEASE READ THE LISTS.

6. Parsimonious consumption of tiny bits of Adderall so that one gets just enough to enhance focus but not enough to awaken that other beast, Anxiety. 

7. Any form of exercise that demands coordination between the 2 hemispheres of the brain yada yada and requires constant adjustment to shifting terrain, something something, because I read these types of activities promote neural growth. (See: hiking, rock-climbing, checkbook balancing, parenting.)
    

All that said, if you don’t feel like taking advice today, or you do feel like taking advice but lack the gusto or self-esteem or discipline, that’s just fine. I ask only one thing, my lovelies: remember that though you feel alone and abandoned in a universe that echoes with the voices of 1,000 strangers deep in conversation — not to mention the multitude of opinions, ideas, and repetitions masquerading as fresh starts that belong to you but feel like strangers — well, you aren’t. 

I promise.

I’m in there with you, shouting over the din. 

BIO: Leslie Kendall Dye is an actress and freelance writer in New York City. Her essays have been published at The Atlantic, The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Millions, Salon, The Los Angeles Review of Books, SELF, The Reader’s Digest, Longreads, and others. Her short stories have appeared in Thriller Magazine and at Apocalypse Confidential.