on the top of the clouds

The story of an intense episode

“Have you taken your medication?” he asked, looking piercingly in my eyes, trying to read my thoughts.

“You always ask about my medication. Don’t you see this is bigger than that? Can’t you see that the world is so unfair?”

I had taken my medication but life was just too much. So many things to juggle, so many ideas to tackle, so many responsibilities.

“Don’t you see how many things we know? And yet how so few people are aware of them m? How can we still be so easily manipulated by people in power and authority, by computer algorithms that want us to click something? I just can’t see all of this without getting upset. We are all literally digging our own holes and enjoying falling into them while everything that we see and read and consume is being used by those in power as a tool to reprogramme our minds.”

“It is not your responsibility to save them my love,” he said sadly, responding to my pain.

“Well, I can’t sit here cross armed either,” I replied, emphatically crossing my arms.

He looked amused now, sensing an opportunity.

“All right, then, my little Robin Hood. What are you going to do about it?”

My enthusiasm faded, my drive disappeared. His challenge did not have the effect I wanted. It did not motivate me. It reminded me that I was small, that there is not much I can do to change the things that have been done for centuries.

My brain is still on fire, though. And I managed to get myself out of the deep end and mustered,

“I will figure something out. Actually, I have a new idea. It is an app to tackle online bullying.”

“Baby,” he said calmly, with kindness. “Will you actually put this idea in practice? Or will you add it to the other 11 you came up with in the last few days?”

I kept silent. He is right. I have an entire notebook full of ideas I came up with at different times, for different reasons, based on my current passion.

Thinking about my idea, I started walking slowly around the house, writing frenetically on my phone. I have this special way of walking, a balance between left and right. I get into a rhythm I know, I have danced this before. My left side encounters the right and they start working together the words just flow out of me, my neurons buzzing in my ears. It feels exciting and strange, a surge of different hormones rushing through my veins. I remember things I never knew I heard. I feel connected to the entire Universe.

My phone battery dies. I have been writing for…I don’t know for how long. I can’t stop.

I pick up a notebook and now sitting I continue to scribble until I start writing in between old notes, old little sketches and names already written on the last page. I’m still not finished but there are no more pages.

A name jumps out at me. A neuroscientist. I look back to the page before. I find the name of a charity for children with learning difficulties and, right before that, the name of a lovely person I met at the local pub who, like me, struggles with ADHD and has lots of ideas. One of his ideas he shared with a friend. And the friend went ahead and put it in practice, without his consent.

I know. I know what I have to do. I must help eradicate prejudice by building an app, with the help of my neurodivergence, the research in neuroscience, and charities. It can work, it really can!

My excitement reaches a new level. I feel my cheeks burning, and I look at the clock. It is 4:45am. I have been writing since 10pm, I can’t sit still and write anymore. My phone is charged now so I restart my dancing and typing game.

Inspired, I want to share my ideas with someone, connection always makes it better, so I choose a Professor of Psychology at Yale University. I send one email.

I remember the psychologist who is encouraging journaling. I will journal to her. I realise I am missing all the written stuff in my notebooks, so I film it and send it to her too.

Looking at the film, I realise it is like a video of my mind. Random connecting, or not connecting, thoughts scattered all around. It feels epic, and now I’m thinking of a new thing. A TED talk, showing my brain like this – I can create awareness around this issue and people might be able to see through my own eyes. I can use that stage to promote my app for supporting tolerance around diversity from a young age. Should I register now? My phone battery dies again. Wait, what would it mean if I went on TED? What would it mean for my, and my family’s, privacy?

I send a last email to the therapist across the ocean and I go to bed. It is 6:00am.

At 7:00am, I am woken up by my youngest son, my early riser, and I’m ready to start the day. After we have some giggles and we make a mess out of breakfast, my eldest wakes up too, and I get him ready for school.

I remember he has homework. I completely forgot about it, but we can pull it off, it is a family tree. It is the end of November, so there are lots of Christmas cards lying around. I think of an idea, we will write together. We will take the initials of the names on the envelopes and combine them with some sticks from a building toy to look like a net. A family spider net and he can be the spider. We don’t do trees, we do nets.

He is super excited. And so am I. We are working together in a complete mess but happily, getting it done, 15 minutes before we must leave for school. My husband comes in, all showered and fresh and panicked. He gives me a look of complete disappointment. He then proceeds to go to the computer, makes an A4 table of a family tree, takes my son from our work table and takes him to school.

It all comes crashing down, down, down, down.

I immediately put CBeebies on for my youngest and go to sob, devastated, on the floor of the bathroom.

I call a friend far away, and she picks up.

I call a friend close by and tell her to come.

I call a therapist and I book.

I call my husband to come back.

He does. I go to the clinic.

And all I can do is to sob for 15 minutes.

Saving the world can wait, now mine is crashing down.