Passion or need?

"What if I write because of a need and not a passion?"

This was a real fear a few weeks ago, born out of the realization (again) that for me, writing is equal to thinking. Instead of plotting out my intentions beforehand, my thoughts emerge and clarify themselves as I write. This is the case for personal as well as more formal writing. I know this method can't be unheard of, but I'm sure the majority of people (not just writers) plan ahead to communicate their overall message. They get ideas, think, jot down notes, think some more, write, edit, done. (This is an assumption, I know, and even if it holds some truth, I don't mean to imply that anyone else has it "easy.")

But me? If the thoughts stay in my head, they are useless, might as well be mush.

(And if it's in my head and I try to talk my way to understanding and clarity? I can't tell you how many times I've been in a conversation, seen the confusing look staring back at me, and realized that I left out a key part that is vital to the relevance or significance of the information I'm trying to share. Actually, now that I wrote that out, I lied. I realize all of this now. Before I was aware of my "neurodiversity", I didn't know where I had gone wrong and felt embarrassed and awkward. Now I'm able to (mostly) laugh it off and try again.)

I say all of this, not to be harsh and judgemental of myself, but to convey the newfound explanation to all of the challenges I never knew I faced. The "monkey chatter" that happens to all of us (right?!) is my default mode, thanks to adhd-inattentive type. Without an outlet, my thoughts get stuck and run together like a long, confusing story with characters that don't belong with dialogue that repeats itself. This might sound insane, and honestly, as I live and experience it every day, it sometimes feels insane. But the more I live with the knowledge of how my mind works (at least part of it!), the more I can interrupt the self-talk that used to stop me from forward progress. That voice says "how do you NOT know {insert any piece of information or opinion that is generally "known"}??" and tries to strip me of the confidence I've built.

The part of me with an intense interest in psychology is fascinated that I found a way to solidify new information or connections without knowing that's why I wrote everything, everywhere. I have boxes full of "notes" spanning elementary school until college. At first, these notes were confined to diaries and notebooks and journals. As I got older, I resorted to using whatever paper or paper-like object was closest. I have napkins, menus, envelopes, post-its, business cards with scribbles- not too out of the ordinary. I also have leaves (from the Dominican Republic), rocks, sugar packets- less ordinary but functional, if not quirky. The first time I met my husband I wrote on his stomach, something like "you just met me, Ally, but might not remember". Later that night, I jotted down everything that I could remember about meeting him in a notebook in my car. I knew if these tidbits spent too long circling my mind, they might be lost forever.

In discovering that there is a very real purpose to me getting my words down on "paper", I've allowed myself the time to be open, messy and selfish. That means that I don't always know what the end result will be when I begin a prompt, story, project or even email. Instead of being discouraged by my lack of foresight, I get excited that something new and exciting might surprise me.

So here I am. Writing my way to clarity and understanding, figuring out what I believe, know, want to know and want to do. This space and this process is dear to me, and I didn't realize that until just now when I'm nearing the end of this post. I'm relieved that writing does not feel like it's driven only by my need to think clearly.  I have a passion for words, for connecting with others and expressing truths, and writing allows me all that.