How it is.

Mistress worked from home today, but was away between breakfast and lunch time. When she was on her way back, she called me, and among other things she asked me to make her a cup of coffee for when she returned. I dutifully said "Yes Mistress!" and then promptly forgot about it. I finished my own coffee, changed clothes, managed to corner the dog so that I could get his little jacket on, and then went out on a run with him. Five minutes later I remembered the coffee.

I turned around, jogged all the way home (with a confused doggy jumping beside me) and made coffee. When I was finally done and had made it out of the house again, Mistress arrived. She completely agreed on my prioritising, and kissed me good bye as I went out on a second try at getting some exercise.

Anyway. The point is that this is what happens when you've bad working memory. I was officially diagnosed with ADHD a week ago. This is who I am. This is how I function. I can absolutely be meaning to do something, and then completely lose track of it for a while. And I spent the whole last year fighting this, trying my absolutely hardest to change, to do better, to straighten up and manage life like everybody else does. The only thing that got me was a complete, clinical burn-out, depression  and a lot of anger and arguments.

I can't make this go away.

I can compensate. I can use things to make me remember. I can live a life where nothing catastrophic occurs if I don't remember. But most of all, the most important thing, is that I can forgive myself.

Before, I would have berated myself all the way home, I would have had a furious monologue in my head about what a terrible person I am, what a disappointment and burden for Mistress, how stupid and worthless of me to not even be able to remember a direct order for five minutes. It's a strategy of sorts - emotions help memory, fear and anger can help to motivate actions, and it probably would raise my ability to remember a similar order in a similar situation a little bit. But only a little bit. And to a monstrous cost.

It was so good to realise I don't do that any more. Now I actively try not to be ashamed, not to be angry. When the inner monologue start I identify it and ignore it. It's not true. I'm not bad. I'm not disrespectful. It's not a matter of not trying.

This is just how I'm wired. I'm impulsive. I've got a bad working memory. I have problem concentrating. I need more sleep than most people. I have strong feelings, strong impulses, fast reflexes, intense energy. This is just me. The only thing that happens if I hate myself over it is that I have less energy left to other things.

Luckily, it's me Mistress wants. She did say I was an "epic failure" at being a house wife a while ago, but added that I was a very good slut. And I guess that's how it is. If she wants someone to manage her house work, she'll have to get another slave.

(That would be kind of cute. She could get some pretty submissive boy who could walk around here half naked, help us out with little S, and keep things clean. I bet that when I've graduated and have a job we could support a third person together.)

If she sticks with me, what she'll get is a devoted mother to her child, a loving partner, a obedient slut and an understanding friend. But she wont get someone who remembers a lot of things or has any sense of order and structure. That's just how it is.