"So how long has the not being able to finish anything went on for? When did it start?" You ask not looking up from your clipboard for even a second to look at me. You're long Strawberry hair falling in front of your face as you write. I look down at my stupid gross orange shoes that were covered in dirt and paint from different projects and odd jobs I'd done in the past few months. Millions of thoughts start filling my head rather loudly like, Why did I come here? I'm not crazy, I don't need therapy, crazy people go to therapy, I'm just lazy.... and stupid.... and cant hold a job.... oh god maybe I am crazy.... oh right you asked a question..... "I dont know, I guess I've never been able to keep focus on one thing for too long at a time." I say thinking nothing of your question. "Such as what?" You ask again not looking up, too busy writing things down. Your pen seems to float across the paper so seemlessly, I start to wonder what kind of pen you use. If it's just a pen you randomly picked or if it was a pen you specifically picked because it had more meaning, or if it was one you picked because it worked the best. I start to think back on my childhood to try to remember when this started... how it started... when I first noticed it.... when did I first notice it? Hmmm I guess I was a child when it started.. but dont all kids start things and not finish them? Isnt that normal for kids? Maybe none of this was worth mentioning.... you seem to think it's important I guess otherwise you wouldnt have asked. "I mean.... like, even as a child my parents would always complain about going in my room to find half colored coloring pages, nearly empty chip bags, and homework that I only started and then left to do something else. That's kind of how I've been for my whole life, why I can't hold a job because I start things but I never finish and my bosses haven't liked me for that so far." I start looking around the room, my eyes dart around while millions of thoughts race through my brain, until I notice you have a small crack in your large brown bookcase, almost a minuscule crack but big enough to notice the minor imperfection. I start to wonder a million more thoughts, like had you looked at it and always planned on getting it fixed, or did you want to try fixing it yourself? Or had you decided it was so small it wasnt worth fixing. Or had you tried to fix it and made it worse so you gave up and threw in the towel on the whole idea? Out of the corner of my eye I notice you move in your line green leather chair, I look to see you have looked up from your white plastic clipboard and are now fixated in my direction. Peering over your black chunky glasses frames at me. Oh god, how long have I been quiet? Had it been a minute? 20 minutes? Oh god now I dont remember what I was saying, what do I do? You're obviously waiting for me to say more. God, say something, anything!! "I-I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten what I was saying. I must have gotten too distracted by the crack in your bookshelf." I manage to get out. "Oh?" You look behind you squinting, looking for what I am referring to. "I never really noticed it myself." You finally say after looking for a few minutes. You look down at your clipboard. Never noticed it? How bad is your eyesight for you to not ever see it, I can see it from across the room and its behind you so you're closer! Oh god now you've said something and I only caught that you said something not what you said. "Oh. sorry, I didnt catch that, what did you say?" I quickly blurt out. You look up at me smiling. "I said from everything you've told me I have a good idea of what's going on with you, and to be honest its not as bad as you thought. A lot of people have it." You say sounding like you're trying to be overly comforting. "Okay doc, lay it on me, what's wrong with me?" I say as I slump back further in to the cushioned chair. "Well from everything you've said and your history of starting things but getting distracted before you ever finished them I think you have a thing called A.D.H.D. which stands for Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, it just means your brain works a little differently than other people's. It's not a bad thing. And we can give you a pill to help you learn to work with it." You look at me, still smiling. "A pill? That's it?" I question you because it sounds insane that all my problems can go away with a pill. "Well yes, and some more counseling to give you help to learn to work with it. But yes a pill. That's it." I sit there a while, thinking all this time I could have done so much more had my parents, or anyone just listened to me instead of saying I was just lazy.... after a long while I finally sigh and say "okay. Let's do it." You smile and hand me a paper prescription and a paper with our next appointment. "Good luck. I hope it starts working for you quickly. See you next week." You say as you and I both stand up and you lead me to the door. As I walk away, I start to cry. Because up till now I thought I was lazy and stupid like everyone said. And now with this little piece of paper you have given me, I know I am smart, and that I am worth more than what people have said about me my whole life. And I am so grateful that I finally gave in and went to therapy.
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Hi, Leslie! I got your story for the weekly critique circle, so I'm just going to leave a few thoughts. A small disclaimer I always put first: please know in advance that none of my criticism is said with any desire to bash your story or anything like that - I just think that genuine feedback is the best way to improve and help others improve :) I take giving feedback really seriously, and I like to take the opportunity to truly engage with your work by offering honest critique. Feel free to utilize or ignore any suggestions that I make. 1...
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