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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Race Track Thinking 16… little did I know the initiation began. 16 is hard enough navigating adolescence. Hormone dumping, the anguishing struggle to fit in any way—- relinquishing my individuality, and being true to myself. Unbeknownst, this was at my expense. I didn't choose these ADHD and BPAD diagnoses, and the other Alphabet Soup “ingredients.” They chose me… I didn't choose mind racing… sometimes feeling my thoughts were out of control - well !!! Most of the time a random whispered thought, barely connected, pops in uninvited and insistent to be acknowledged and immediately included in my conversation… Most of the time it's a detour with posted signs that helps bring me back to the conversation, with minimal disruption. Thoughts drift, and barely nudges the adjacent car, our cars wobble… we stay on course… on topic… a tweak of adrenaline seeps through… Many of my family and friends are used to these and take it in stride. Sometimes, my thoughts feel hijacked, suddenly split off into several lanes racing side by side… three, four wide… round a race track… I lose track of how many laps… although I know there are connections to the original topic. They're tenuous wisps of smoke, can be seen, yet not grasped. They're the moments of confusion… for everyone. The smooth glide of the conversation hits an air pocket… a temporary jostle… the conversation's back on course. Whew, a possible disaster averted… No harm no foul… much… It's undeniable and can't be overlooked by anyone, especially me. Many times I'll “joke” about a brain fart. I may joke about it. It's not really a joke, it's distressing and embarrassing. Yet… I know I'm responsible… and sometimes I'm completely at a loss what to do, much less, how to prevent it. It's Groundhog Day again… endless recycled racing around the track… No! Absolutely not… it’s not a “okay………. let's go do that again” situation!!! There are times, the urgency intensifies… a random thought's magnetic pull, strengthens… An internal fight ensues… my wheels take a turn… seemingly as if I'm no longer the only one driving. Onlookers witness a verbal spectacular crash worthy of a NASCAR race… everyone walks away… bruised, sore, limping… the conversation is in shambles. Others shake their heads… I'm questioning, how in the hell did I get here? What are the consequences I'm responsible for? Sometimes I'm left feeling terrified. Or... Instead the battle for control is so fierce, I no longer have any control of the steering wheel. Everyone… especially myself, other adjacent drivers, and onlookers watch in horror as the cars burst into flame… horrifically sometimes… someone doesn't walk away. What the do I do with this? Knowing what I want to say or how to act, and that my body seemingly won't let me sensation - isn't a state anyone would knowingly choose. Regardless, I'm totally responsible for the consequences. Is this the skin you'd choose? Even 53 years later, my mind sometimes leaves me feeling confused, embarrassed, ashamed, and even betrayed… that my thoughts once again… derailed? Are the consequences irreparable or irreversible? Past losses were devastating. If so, sometimes I fear I ed up things and relationships I value the most. Especially the promising ones, ones barely starting. The most painful consequences are the loss of important relationships. I have no choice but to just deal with it! Then there are my far more frequent slightly amusing fuddlings… My family and friends understand these occasional thought detours. The conversation returns with their gentle redirecting me back on course. Then, there's another group, the best possible group… those members speak varying degrees of “Sherryese.” Those fluent in “Sherryese” follow my tangential threads…trusting those threads will return and weave back into the conversation’s tapestry. Then the connections are revealed. I treasure my “all weather friends”… I'm truly understood! So which title fits the best? Some days, if I'm lucky, only one fits, those “Sherryese” detours. Other days? It's a combination… I could feel sorry for myself and indulge in a pity party (I've done that far too often and far too long)… or put on my big girl panties and forge on, muttering under my breath… bummer heavy sigh… Sherry Barton February 22, 2025
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