Diary of a Slytherin Girl with ADHD (1)
Some days deserve to disappear. Others deserve to be kept. And then there are the ones I don't write down for the world, but for myself. So here's today.
I'm a Slytherin. Not one of those who build their lives according to plan and sort their ambitions into neat little boxes. I'm the one who runs on swings, sometimes unstoppable, sometimes invisible. The one who wakes up in the morning with a plan to rule the world and falls asleep at night feeling she has failed at absolutely everything. And so I decided to keep my diary of a Slytherin girl with ADHD.
Officially I've been diagnosed as bipolar. At least that's what the records at St Mungo's say, where they once looked at me through glasses that were far too clean. But I think it's just ADHD. That mix of inner chaos, obsession, sensitivity and exhaustion makes far more sense than a label someone pinned on me.
I go to therapy. Not because I want to change, but because I want to understand why sometimes I can't even carry my own thoughts. And also because I believe I deserve a space of my own. No masks. No expectations.
School? I was good at it. Healing potions, diagnostic magic, all of it made sense. I knew what I was doing. Then came further study in image magic. I never finished it. Too much pressure, too little faith. During the pandemic I worked in a laboratory, later with production spells, and in the end I was pouring tea on the long distance lines between London and Scotland. Before anyone asks me where I actually belong, I'd rather ask myself whether I even need to know.
And relationships? My first big love was back at school, half Spanish and entirely chaos. After him came a gamekeeper from the Department of Forest Magic. Then a healer who dreamed of a housewife. And finally the one who only needed me for a signature. What he left behind was a quiet anger, a few brilliant Indian recipes and the wish to never again explain why I am the way I am.
These days I work with image, beauty and impressions. Visual magic and public perception. I come up with spells that make perfection more human and adjust reality so that it's possible to live in it. And even though I sometimes don't know who I really am, I can tell you exactly how anyone should look to survive the world.
So I decided to keep a diary. Not because I think someone will read it one day. But because I feel that sometimes not even I can hear myself.
So, today. Sunday. My boyfriend woke me up. Not once. Not twice. Three times. And definitely not because he wanted to wish me a lovely morning. Morning sex is a great thing if you've had at least a little sleep beforehand. I hadn't, not today. I got out of bed on the wrong side and I already know today will cost me more than I have in my energy account.
And now? My grandma is waiting for me. And my grandad. My own. No clients, no work. Just two ageing souls who need their nails, hair, feet and mood taken care of. Lately Grandma mixes up names and days. She sees things that aren't there, and Grandad mostly stays quiet and watches, but his looks can say more than a whole volume of the wizarding code of law.
Five or six hours of care, empathy and patience are waiting for me. And I'm tired before I even start, while my personal projects keep buzzing in my head. I write for a magical paper. I've got a half written text, an idea, a mood. But today I probably won't get to it again.
So at least I'm writing about what's frustrating me in advance. So the day isn't completely wasted. To remind myself that even if today I'm only cutting my grandparents' nails and wondering whether anyone will ever call me again just because, I still have a voice. And this diary is its echo.
We'll be there a long time. Five, maybe six hours. And even though those hands and feet will look great at the end, I'll feel like someone who has had the last drop of life sucked out of her.
Maybe I'll at least paint my own nails too. As a quiet reminder that even though I sometimes serve, I'm still the queen of my own world.
And that's all for today. Tomorrow I might be different. Maybe the same. Maybe stronger. But I'll always be me.
Mimosa Confiante
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Mimosa Confiante
By day, I work somewhere between marketing, copy and campaigns; by night, I usually end up somewhere between fanfiction, cosplay and yet another “what if” that refuses to leave me alone. I write mainly in the Harry Potter and Mo Dao Zu Shi fandoms, most often Snarry, Snamione, HarryLu and WangXian. My healthcare background means that anatomy, medicine and far too much research occasionally find their way into my stories. Cosplay is another way for me to play with the characters I love, whether I stay close to canon or turn them into my own fanfiction and AU versions. In Diary of a Slytherin Girl with ADHD, I write openly about life with a brain that usually has far too many tabs open at once.
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