The AD/HD diagnosis helped a great deal, at least with the books that were required reading for my classes. Eventually, I graduated with honors but still there was no reading for personal development, no expanding of my mind, enriching of my spirit… and reading for pleasure? Well, I’d almost forgotten that completely.
Honestly, I was crushed by the entire battle. My ability to concentrate, even on words I felt sincerely desperate to receive, seemed lost to me. I could hold the books but I couldn’t actually read them. I feared it was for good.
It seemed that everyone was reading the best books. My wife’s college classes offered mind-blowing texts and novels. My mom, my best girl friend, and even my daughter were all reading amazing book after amazing book. Oh, how I had to read this one! Seriously, I would love it. They promised. In fact, I could just take it for when I had time.
What in the hell happens to time? I didn’t understand it, at first anyway. Then, the pieces started to fall together. I got sick to DEATH of not having time to do the things that I love. I got sick of hearing my own voice go on and on about how I loved all of these things, including reading, but never had time to do them.
I love to do yoga but don’t have time. I love to cook healthy meals but don’t have time. I love to play games with my kids, take classes, go to movies, and write. Oh, how I love to write… but I didn’t have time.
I love to read but don’t have time.
Then, suddenly, I realized that I was full of sh*t.
(Yes, that’s a highly technical self-assessment by one very savvy life coach.)