I'd be more thankful if I could concentrate on being thankful

I’d be more thankful if I could concentrate on being thankful

As happens all to often, the Holiday took precedent over the actual thanks giving. I think it would be a great thing to set aside a weekend to actually be thankful, or a day. Well, maybe an hour? But we’d have to keep it a secret, or some clever soul would come up with some way to obligate us to spend money.

But I need more than a shelter from the marketing storm

You see, if you have ADHD, you possibly didn’t spend much of last weekend being thankful. I know I didn’t. There were things to worry about, things to do. And I have trouble being mindful enough to be thankful. Being thankful means gathering thoughts of what to be thankful for.

Whither shall my mind wander?

If I let my mind go, it soon will find itself … lost. Always looking for things to keep me busy, it doesn’t take long before my mind starts being thankful for the plans I’ve made that are supposed to make my life better, easier.

What happens next is a leap of undefinable logic. I’ll jump up and head off to start the next step of the last project I abandoned.

Now where was I?

Checking where I am on that project to see what’s next is really rounding the first corner on the path away from mindfulness. I’ll figure out the next step, remember that I had gone to get a thingamabob I’d needed, and head off to get it. Having gotten sidetracked once, I’m chanting the incantation “thingamabob, thingamabob, thingamabob …” the magic focus spell. I’m adamant I’ll return with that thingamabob and be right where I should be.

And it feels good, like I’m on the ball, in the groove, present, mindful. I’m commending myself on my tenacity, when suddenly I come face to face with … whatever threw me off the last time I went for the thingamabob (remember the thingamabob?). And it was a simple thing that threw me off, how could that have happened? I should have just picked it up and put it away.

Should have?

But wait, the thingamajig I thought to put away is open and there are a couple of doohickeys missing from it. I had them upstairs fixing something else. I’ll just go grab them, put them in the thingamajig, put the thingamajig away, get the thingamabob and be back on track. I head upstairs, with a niggling concern scratching at the edge of my consciousness. I find the doohickeys where I left them, and realize that, though I’m done with the doohickeys, I didn’t finish the task I was using the doohickeys for. This won’t take long, a second or two, so I take on the new task. All I’ll need is the gadget from the kitchen junk drawer.

Off I go, though I’m wondering about the growing sense of anxiety I’m now feeling. I grab some dirty laundry on my way to the kitchen, setting it at the top of the basement stairs so I’ll remember to take it to the laundry room … soon. Once in the kitchen I remember that I had made coffee so I pour a cup. Then I check to see if I have any emails. I stop for a second and try to remember why I came to the kitchen and remember the gadget. I grab it out of the drawer and am just about to head back to the project upstairs when I think “A sandwich would go good with this coffee. And looky there, it’s nearly lunch time.” I make the sandwich and take it to the living room.

As I eat it I wonder what I should do this afternoon. I know, I should spend time being thankful, mindful of the things in life that count, the things that matter.

Yeah! That’s what I’ll do.