My novel is a cross-world fantasy, which means it features two separate worlds: the one we all know, and my ADHD-fantastic, invented one.
It occurred to me that in a certain sense, life with ADHD is a cross-world reality: we live in the same "regular" world, but our brain operates in a different way on many levels.
As I'm going through my characters back and forth movements between the two worlds, I find myself pondering my own border crossings.
As a child, when ADHD was not yet well-known, I was often called "spacey": forgetting, failing to focus on what they thought I had to, hyperfocusing on what my brain chose to - living on my own planet.
What changed? Not much. But being diagnosed, understanding myself, brought my planet closer to Earth. The text in the image corresponds to my earlier feeling:
"She imagined herself sitting on her meteorite; that shelter from the world to which no one had access but herself. Sitting on that large rock, looking on Earth from afar, everything on Earth seemed tiny and unimportant. Homework, remembering things, phone calls… doesn’t matter if a voice speaking to you is real or only in your head. Doesn’t even matter if some little girl falls off a bridge or not. Doesn’t matter if you’re different or just like everybody else."
It occurred to me that in a certain sense, life with ADHD is a cross-world reality: we live in the same "regular" world, but our brain operates in a different way on many levels.
As I'm going through my characters back and forth movements between the two worlds, I find myself pondering my own border crossings.
As a child, when ADHD was not yet well-known, I was often called "spacey": forgetting, failing to focus on what they thought I had to, hyperfocusing on what my brain chose to - living on my own planet.
What changed? Not much. But being diagnosed, understanding myself, brought my planet closer to Earth. The text in the image corresponds to my earlier feeling:
"She imagined herself sitting on her meteorite; that shelter from the world to which no one had access but herself. Sitting on that large rock, looking on Earth from afar, everything on Earth seemed tiny and unimportant. Homework, remembering things, phone calls… doesn’t matter if a voice speaking to you is real or only in your head. Doesn’t even matter if some little girl falls off a bridge or not. Doesn’t matter if you’re different or just like everybody else."
Until the novel is ready, read my prequel ADHD fantasy story, Distracted Magic!