Butterfly

How I flow, fluttering like a butterfly,
pollinating sporadically.
All of my projects and dreams
come to flower in time.
Time, I know, I cannot control,
I cannot manage a construct.
Still, I passionately begin
novel project, hobby, plan
and drop off the habit
time and time again.

I used to be so critical
of my unmanageable mind.
Forcing it into choosing
just one point of focus,
because completion was the goal.

I’d very quickly lose interest
and hope, that my plan
would pan out, produce a product –
Measuring my ability and worth
by the societal construct of productivity,
as if the end must justify the means.

But the spark of creativity
then fizzled out completely,
when I tried to fit this mold.

I tried to be a worker bee,
methodically pollinating
and producing honey for the hive,
but it always wound up asymmetrical and dry.

Before I accepted and grew to love the fact that I do not fit the mold.
I do not work for the queen.
My mind is a landscape
filled with trees and flowers,
mountains and valleys,
rivers and oceans.

I exist in a reality buzzing with bees
and their demanding hives.

But I pay no mind,
because I am a butterfly.

Embracing my neurotype, one intention, one breath, one journal entry at a time. ADHD is a minefield at times. It makes functioning to society’s standards nearly impossible without suffering an immense amount of complex trauma. More on that later. But for now, thanks for being here and glimpsing into my journey of acceptance and healing. If you, too, are a butterfly trapped in this beehive, I see you. I feel you. I think you’re a brilliant gift to society and pray that you emerge from your chrysalises in full, radiant, and unapologetic glory.