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Finishing tasks..


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I have a problem finishing tasks. It doesn't matter what it is, or how hard I've worked on it, when it gets close to completion, I just stop.

Like a good book. I'll get so caught up in it, and completely love it, but when it hits the climax, its hard for me to finish it. Or projects. I write short stories, and I love it, but I can't honestly think of one that I've finished. Or even chores. I don't understand it, and I don't know why.

Does anyone else have this problem?

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Hi CrazySorrow,

I think it happens to me more than most and I hear it is part of ADHD, but I do manage to finish a lot of things.

It takes some pushing at times to get things done, but with me it is not at the climax or anything just when it gets hard. (hmm that sounds wrong lol - difficult)


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Lol! climax, hard. First laugh of the morning. Woot! :(

-Hmm, ADHD.

I'm still trying to come to terms with that there might be something 'wrong' with me. Growing up, I could never think like that, it was always 'bad'.

Which might be the reason why, I keep postponing seeing someone. And, I'm scared. But I know it must be done, I can't deal any longer.

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Well my son has ADHD and my daughter as well and after reading things to help understand them I am pretty sure I am as well. None of us are on any medication for it or anything, for us it is more realizing issues we have and working around them.

I would not be too scared.


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Sometimes it's too hard to work around them. I know they are there, but I don't know why, and it makes me freeze up -points to blog- (you don't have to read it, it's long, but it's there. That itself makes me feel better)

I guess I'm scared because I was always lead to believe thinking that way was wrong. And weak.

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All my stories are pretty much science fiction. (Other than my poems.)

I will just post a poem.


Motionless, he stares at the wall

And listens to nothing at all

A drooling smile across his face

His mind, a another time and place

Always happy he never cries

For in his world nothing dies

His mother, father and sister dead

But they’re alive and well, in his head

Violence, war, pestilence and greed

Are things he will never heed

Happiness, goodness, love and peace

Are things in his mind that never cease

A single figure in his chair

Wearing pajamas, with messed up hair

By himself but not alone

For he’s with his friends at home

I read your blogs by the way and I am sorrow for all the troubles you have had - I posted a comment there.


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