“We have stars directing our fate.”
Everything that has happened has brought you here. And that place can be a diagnosis.
Marek Piwnicki, Unsplash.com
For the last week, I’ve been listening to Robbie Williams’ “Millennium” on repeat.
Written at the turn of the millennium when our worst fears were Y2K, “Millennium” captures some of the cynicism of my generation: “We have stars directing our fate,” sung with sarcasm. Like that of “Bittersweet Symphony” by The Verve, the mood is one of dejection and even hopelessness, that “something else” controls our lives despite our best efforts to control it ourselves. And I can say that I’ve felt out of it for a lot of my life. I’ve felt out of control.
What if, reader, stars are directing our fate? What does that mean?
What if “the stars” involve placing one foot in front of another to take a step in a direction — any direction — that might propel us anywhere? Perhaps that sense of control, and that craving for power, can be put into better perspective.
When the therapist asked me how long I’d been suffering from executive functioning and overall disorganization, I said, “all my life.” All my life, I’ve felt not good enough; I’ve been the butt of my family’s running joke since I remember. My dad often declared I didn’t misplace my head because it was attached to my body, and to be fair to him, most days, that doesn’t even feel like a certainty, either. Once I lost a pen for 30 minutes only to find it in my right hand when I saw my reflection in a mirror. I accumulate papers in piles but can remember precisely where specific documents are in any given pile. I procrastinate on anything that feels mundane: from filing paperwork to making doctor’s appointments to cleaning and cooking; I have a lifelong aversion to routine tasks.
Today was rough, dear reader. I cried after confessing I often felt incompetent. I admitted I made a foolish mistake while sending an email that a colleague needed to point out to me; I double-checked that email before sending it. I’m tired — very tired — of being my worst enemy. I’m tired of being full of promise that doesn’t materialize because I cannot focus long enough to prevent simple errors from happening. Whenever I needed to write a school paper, I had to start so far in advance because I couldn’t organize information logically (logical to the reader because what I write is always logical to me). I need to be correcting and re-doing work constantly. The most frustrating part is the emotional toll that my sloppiness creates.
I had a suspicion. I’ve suspected for several years now that I have ADHD. That the reason I can’t do technical stuff is not lack of dexterity but lack of executive functioning, and that I have a sense of logic very different from others. I excel in school tremendously and am highly creative, but essential “life stuff” eludes me. My lack of functionality in many aspects of my life has hindered my career. I should be further along the career path at my age and with my level of education, but I am not. I’m exhausted from surviving instead of living.
Today, the therapist wanted a “snapshot” of me, and I wasn’t prepared to give away not just a snapshot but also my whole soul. Getting diagnosed is the only thing I care about now because I’m so tired of having myself get in my way. But so relieved I’m so close to having an answer that will contribute to an improved quality of life. At this point, any solution that achieves that goal will do.
And thus, it seems stars directed my fate led me to this moment. It was the moment when I finally felt fed up with the struggle. The fears, the disappointments, the debt… it has all helped me reach the bottom. The time has come for me to face myself.
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