The thing about setting goals and having ADHD is that it always feels like the goal will never be reached until 2 hours before it’s due. That feeling is usually correct. At that critical final countdown, at least for me, it is absolutely certain the goal will be reached—a byproduct of absolute stubbornness and hyper-focus.
I intended since early August to publish my first Substack post on September 15th. The first of my bi-monthly newsletters that will contain poetry behind the paywall, and otherwise, whatever feels right to write. Today, what feels right is to write about urgency. The urgency to get things done, to live a true life, and to get the damn thing over with already. Somehow these three always come to a head when I get right up to a deadline.
The past few years, I’ve danced between divine urgency and traumatic urgency. It’s been an intricate exploration of my own body to know which one is which. What I’ve learned is that traumatic urgency comes from fear and lack. It feels like I’m frantically taking action or laying down in a freeze zone because nothing will ever show up for me, nothing will ever work out for me, and my dreams don’t mean shit. It is predicated on the foundational perspective that I don’t have what I need or want and I never could. Its very operation requires me to believe my desires will never be met.
So take this hypothetical. If my needs and desires do ever get met, and I still believe they never will, will my body and soul ever even be able to experience fulfillment? I don’t mean fulfillment as a vague, static state of being. I literally mean: If I finally post this Substack, will I be able to experience the fullness of that moment? It’s yet to be determined, but all signs point to yes only because I’ve been practicing allowing myself to receive and experience the goodness that will always, without a doubt, come from divine urgency. Not because I have any sense of faith, but because goodness is the birthright of all living beings.
It’s not until I actually sit down to write this morning (meaning the morning of September 15th, the morning the first draft began) that I start to move into divine urgency. The kind of urgency that feels right. How do I know it feels right? Because I like the clacking sound of my keyboard. Because I like sitting in my treehouse and feeling expression move out of my fingers. Most importantly, because it truly doesn’t feel like I have anything to lose and not in the devil may care way. Losing literally doesn’t feel possible because I already have everything I need and it cannot be diminished. It’s suddenly clear that all the time spent toiling in my mind doesn’t matter. It has vanished. I move into joy; it’s powerful and fills my fingers and toes with momentum. It’s like riding a boat knowing I’m headed towards meeting a new friend somewhere out there on the water. It’s a trusting that when I’m integrated into the neural network of my own love, nothing that’s meant to love me back can’t find me.
Which is why, as it turns out, the urgency of getting the damn thing over with is crucial. When there is no more room for fretting or puttering around the terrors of my own mind, which are no more or less special than yours, the kind of urgency needed to serve the truth of my own life shows up.
So, as a ADHD person with a lifelong disdain for goals and deadlines, this is my beginning to get to know them better. No matter how much I hate them and want them to leave me alone to hang out in my mind that feels like 100 bees flying around, each with a different personality and agenda, I do have to give them some credit. They put me in my zone; the place where I can get things done clearly, well, intentionally, with heart, AND at the very last minute. I’m learning to love that the very last minute is perfectly fucking okay.
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