I decided I should start writing a novel. I want it to be funny, I want it to be heartfelt, I want it to connect. I want it to be something I would read.
I have no idea what I should write about.
I thought maybe I should write about the journey I took from never wanting children to having two of the most wonderful children ever created. And the turmoil they put me through every day.
I thought maybe I should write about my journey with Child 1. It has been a learning experience. With a very steep learning curve. Which I keep failing the tests for. How the hell do you effectively raise a child who will only answer if you call him a firefighter? How do you effectively raise a child who has a concrete valid reason for every rule he breaks? That kid is smarter than he needs to be. And can make some very logical jumps from being bad to having a good reason for it.
I thought maybe I should write about my journey through the medical field. A journey that includes having a cane thrown at me at work, completely botching my first time operating a stair chair (I couldn't get it open for those of you who haven't heard the story), how I got my nickname Crash on a fireground training (I still blame the instructor for that!).
THEN I thought maybe I should just write about life. And my crazy family. And the calamity we get ourselves into. And the fun we have. And the jokes, oh god the jokes.
This is why I don't finish anything. Every thought I have seems better than the last. My brain goes on this incredible journey, and often times I feel like I'm running to catch up. I can't keep track. And ultimately, I spend so much time thinking about it, I don't ever get around to actually doing it. It's insanity.
Maybe I should start taking some of Child 1's medications. I think I need them more than he does. I can't seem to focus on any one thing longer than it takes my brain to jump to the next idea. How on earth does someone make it to the age of 30 with the doctors clearly missing the diagnosis they should have made years ago???
Hi folks, my name is Tristen. I have ADD. And I'm pretty sure some type of Aspergers. And maybe a touch of depression. And a whole lot of anxiety. And maybe, wait, what's that shiny thing over there?