Pause ≠ abandoned

“You never finish anything,” I heard. And it wasn’t a tone of concern or worry. He said it with disgust. “A real friend reaches out more often,” he’d add later. I tried to remember how many times he did that. True, he’d drop by the office sometimes when I was trying to wrap things up, sit in an armchair eating chips with crumbs scattered on his lap and around. Mega irritated. I tried to remember how badly I’d messed up. He must have been right, right? Somehow I couldn’t remember when he’d come up with an initiative. Usually it was me picking him up or going to common places with the car and cash for drinks.

I have many such memories. Very many. And they still sit deep in my identity. “Unfinished projects” and “bad friend.” It’s part of “me” that I can’t get rid of. Even though the analytical part of my head senses the dissonance.

People with AuDHD do have problems finishing projects, and can completely forget people they don’t see every day. The only ones who keep coming back without complaint turn out to be on the spectrum themselves, or something in my bones tells me they’d get a positive diagnosis if tested.

What I’ve learned over these 41 years (in my head no more than 25) is that these projects are often not abandoned, but require more time.

That’s how it was with two books written and published. That’s how it was with a draft law that fell through only when it lacked about 5% of signatures due to lack of active support and my incompetence (not abandonment). That’s how it was with many projects at work, some I had to build in the background for years because there was no support and understanding—my specialty: modernizing burdensome technical debt.

And that’s how it is with my current projects. LEGO Bag End is waiting for a place to be assembled. An autonomous boat is slowly coming together from electronics, but waiting for a place where I can work with fiberglass. A comic is evolving, the script is changing and maturing in notebooks. A joint publication with Martin is waiting for when he’s ready, not for me to force it.

Autism won’t let you do things half-heartedly. ADHD causes you to lose momentum and forget. But a pause is not an end. It’s a pause. Time for the dough to rise, the plaster to dry, and the wine to mature. Give yourself time and chances.

And the same goes for friendship. Forget about those who only need the spotlight on themselves. The real ones are always there. They probably forgot too, but they’ll be happy when you write to them on a random Tuesday evening.