I Live By Urges — & Why I‘m Stopping Thinking About It.
“Driven by a motor” was something I had never, ever heard about. Until I was undergoing diagnosis for ADHD, and I was asked to explain and relate as to whether or not I often felt I was “driven by a motor.” Well.
Today I want to talk about urges. And not the harmful type.
An urge can be defined as a strong desire or impulse. I have these frequently, and have had, my whole life. I rarely, rarely make decisions cognitively, or at least consciously cogntively. Most of how my life happens is by urges, and following my enthusiasm. From a clincal perspective of the detriment and life-ruining disaster of ADHD, this might sound devastatingly terrible. You hear ‘urge’ and you think alcoholism, sex, arguments, quitting. “Think before you speak”, sort of thing. Well, here’s a theory, that is not a theory, that I want to propose.
My life is infinitely better when I stop thinking before I do.
My actions, my behaviours and my sense of self, truth and meaning, only ever seem to align when I follow the urge, impulse, and act on it.
Now of course, there is a conscious differentiating and understanding of when it’s appropriate to act. Thankfully, I’m an adult, with a conscious, conscience and a left-brain, and some degree of impulse control and a mildly perhaps resembling the function of a prosthetic leg, frontal lobe. But even still, I don’t think it’s a thinking process, you just know.
I think perhaps this is related to having your metaphorical ducks in a row, which will allow for the urges from your true nature, essence, truth, else to rise up. Perhaps when your life is an utter disaster, in your own terms, there is more thinking required. I have been encouraged and conditioned to think heavily, about everything, because often to most people, my ideas, ways, enthusiasm and urges are absolutely not a good idea. My natural way of being, has always been viewed as wrong, and something that needs to change. I have too much energy, I move too much, I talk too much, I’m too enthusiastic, I’m too excitable, I’m not good at maths, I’m not good at planning, I’m terrible at making decisions about small things… else. And so I have learned to heavily ignore myself, and to fall into the noise of trying, oh so trying, to do.. it.. right.
Most people live in a bubble requiring immense predictability, comfort, safety (yes, basic human needs), but to the degree of conflating the above with all of the traditional societal norms. Our sense of safety is often distorted, but most importantly, our sense of safety is so incredibly unique. Most people I’ve connected with have, with all but positive intentions, imposed their need for routine, structure, predictability, social norms, else — onto me. Or at least, I have internalised and absorbed it all.
Let me explain in a rather boring, but apt, scenario that happened this weekend.
So, I have a friend. She’s called Megan, or Meg, I actually don’t know which. I promise we are friends, we just don’t really know anything about eachother. Sort of. We met in Tesco, well, she actually stalked me after meeting in Tesco. I’m glad. We share a very similar brain, except for our reading interests. To the point. Meg asked me if I wanted to do something on Sunday. I said yes. We were deciding what to do, and we were unsure whether to run, swim, walk or just do all 3, or do none. And then the suggestion of shit, we should probably go food shopping, arose. So do all 4, 1 or none. I wanted to do one of them, and at the least, interact with another human, however — no part of my being was at all interested in having any form of schedule or time or commitment. Which, of course, isn’t always the most helpful when trying to arrange when to meet a friend. But, with 5–6/7 days of my week, alike most, being scheduled and having commitments here, there and everywhere, I just needed a day where I do things as and when I want to. I am of a person whom finds it genuinely painful to do things I don’t want to. If my energy and enthusiasm isn’t there, it’s a no. Unless there is strong intrinsic meaning, getting on with it, is not my forte. Sure, to my detriment sometimes, but on the whole I’m glad about that. It means If I don’t stay true to the reality and authenticity of myself, I suffer, and I suffer quickly and obviously. I’ve realised that when I’m tired, it’s rarely that I don’t want to do anything, it’s the imposing of doing the things on a specific schedule. I need the freedom to choose. I have always, always needed freedom to choose.
To the point -
Meg suggested I just let her know when I’m ready, in the moment, and if it works, it works. So, that was the plan.
This morning, Sunday, the day of spontaneously meeting to do something that we’re not quite sure of yet, I got up, did what you do (I will save you from the need to read what I did) and went for a run. This run was entirely an experience of brain radio FM wandering. Mind wandering. I, shut off, my brain, turns on, but I’m not really involved. There’s just an orchestra of conversations, ideas, writing’s, else, going on, but I’m not really involved in it. Hard to describe. It’s a creative space, but one where I’m not doing the creating. It’s just happening, and I’m just running. And as cool and mystic as ‘it’s a creative space’ might be, I remember, approximately 0% of the endless stream of creations I have on my run. Anyway, halfway through my run I decided to text Meg to say I was going to bail on doing something, because I had a few things to do and I didn’t know when I was going to be free to meet, and it didn’t (and doesn’t), feel fair to keep someone waiting. I recognised I just need a day of no plans or commitments, I need space for my urges. We have a shared understanding of brains, and specifically our brains, and it’s wonderful.
7 miles later, and many, many urges to do pull ups that I wasn’t able to fulfil (trees far too high, and I also kept forgetting about the urge until I remembered again), I arrived home, and realised I definitely need food — and so food shopping was what needed to happen. Yes, I didn’t feel enthusiastic about it, but a requirement of existing, is that one eats. And another unfortunate reality, is that shops close early on Sunday, so some degree of getting your shit together, is important. So I text Meg, saying I was probably going to go around 10am, if she happened to want to come, etc. I got in the shower, did that thing where you lose touch with reality and enter the realm of shower thoughts. Mildly unenthused about going shopping, but hey, life. But the urge, the urge, was bestowed on me.
Why don’t we go to the gym first, see how many pulls ups we can do in 25 minutes, and THEN go food shopping?
Of which, this wasn’t presented in my mind like that. I don’t think in words. What instead I was met with, was an image of the gym, the tactile, physical sensation in my body that the above would create (a nice stretch of the lats, a warmness afterwards, a satisfying exertion), and a strong, urge-type feeling of I SO WANT TO DO THIS. I, in my normal pattern of thinking my way out of my natural desires, decided to let this urge slip away into nothingness, just go shopping.
Informing myself that I’ve just been for a run, I should rest. That I have things to do before I meet a friend at 2pm, just go shopping. Insert else. No matter how hard I try to convince myself of bullshit — aka, fake rules and deadlines, I always win.
And some urges… some urges don’t slip away. They grow bigger, and bigger, and bigger. Half naked, my face half covered in moisturiser as if someone had thrown a bottle of aftersun at me, I FaceTimed Meg, to bestow upon her, my brand new revelatory idea.
Right, so. How about this. We go to the gym, see how many pull ups we can do in 25 minutes. And THEN we go to Lidl afterwards?
That’s a great idea. I’ll be 20 mins.
Great, me too.
Off we went. Achieved the pull up urge, which I have to say, as per most urges, was never as good as it was in my head. In fact, it was quite tiring, and a bit boring. It took us 30 minutes, as we decided to do 100 pull ups, why finish on 74 when you can do 100. I think we did 101. Or more. I kept forgetting to count. There is either everything going on in my brain, or absolutely nothing at all. But hey, urge fulfilled. And, then we went to Lidl, overwhelmed by choice, I picked up the usual: far too much meat, eggs, no seasonings or flavourings, broccoli and dark chocolate. And then of course, we fell into the middle isle. And I mean, of COURSE I need a car seat electronic massager pillow? I didn’t buy it. You see; an urge that’s not important to me.
What’s my point?
Now, random pull up urge on a Sunday isn’t the point, at all. Nor is it the best example of the great wonders of the universe that can occur when you act on said urges, although, I did have fun. But what I am saying is that I have always had a distinct sense of knowing what is right for me, and what is wrong for me.
How?
Suffering.
I get incredibly, incredibly overwhelmed by making decisions, by thinking through, for, or in, anything — because the possibilities, are quite literally, endless. They are infinite, unlimited. Where there is a right, there is also a wrong. Where there is a good there is also a bad.
A lot of people seem to be able to use their left brain appropiately. Decision making, understanding, reasoning. Mine is in a complete, complete endless realm. Because it doesn’t make sense. The workings and the system of the mind are both infinite and limited. Infinite meaning the above, what can be right can also be wrong, but limited, in that what can be right can also be wrong. Tennis. A game of tennis.
But, with that, I have a very, very strong sense of a pull, a heartfelt deep knowing. This is for me, or this isn’t for me. And when I stumble into the pattern of knowing the truth, but trying to reason my way to understand it, explain it, I trip over my words, my feet, and fall flat on my face, in some rather sticky mud. Mud that smells too. Not nice mud. Although I’m not sure ANY mud is particularly nice. I, often, don’t need to go through logical reasoning. I just know, in a sense that is beyond language and words. And often this is accused of being ‘impulsive’, or else — but I just know. The mind complicates things, not me.
But there is a construct in the world, in society, that looks a certain way. And that certain way certainly doesn’t fit, at all, in line with my urges, desires and impulses. Subsequently, it feels as though I’m at a constant tug of war between nature and culture. Between myself and the noise. And here’s the issue, that is a great issue, but albeit sometimes an issue:
No matter how hard I try to convince myself: I always win.
If there is no intrinsic meaning.
If there is no outer and inner purpose.
If there is no intuitive pull, force, inner-taking me somewhere.
The limitation of the mind, will always, always fail.
I cannot think myself into something that isn’t right.
I can for a brief period of time, I can use the reasoning, the rational, the logic, the mental tennis game — but I have always felt a deeper knowing and sense beyond the mental game of tennis.
And the more of life I experience, the more I am trusting this inner knowing. The noise and chaos of my brain isn’t even worth interfering with. Neurlogically induced, incuded by conditioning, both, probably — but there is no clarity in there. There is no truth in there. There is the noise of everyone and everything else. There is the noise of good and bad, right and wrong, better and worse. In my heart, deep into the essence of me beyond the noise, is a knowing, and is a space to fulfil my urges.
And of course, in the instance where an urge might not be helpful for me — applying space, thinking and else, might be helpful. But also, I just know. And sometimes, we do the things that aren’t helpful. And sometimes that’s helpful to analyse, understand and try to cognitively change. But also, soemtimes it’s best just to do the damn thing, realise it’s painful and learn from experience. At least that’s me. As nice and easy as it may be, I just cannot learn from ‘don’t do that’. I need to feel, taste, touch and sense the outer edges for myself. I need to touch the hot plate. Or else my life is far too overwhelmingly complicated.
And hey — what are my urges? My urges are always along the lines of:
Write, express, share.
Move, exert, explore.
Connect, humour, love, impart helpful knowledge.
Do I get the urge to set myself on fire and go on Instagram too much or eat more chocolate even though I wasn’t even hungry or to start cleaning the kitchen when I in fact need to get on with online client work.. Yes.
But I’m not classifying these are urges. I’ll call these, furges. Fake urges. Urges coming from the avoidance of necessary discomfort. And when the urge arises to avoid unnecessary discomfort, or to go towards love and wholeness — then that’s an urge, whether the outward presentation appears ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Such framing is entering the sea. I am throwing it in the sea.
I am fascinated by existence.
And more so, fascinated by the change in one’s experience of existence, the better one becomes at deciphering the above.
And more confusingly, at least for me, I don’t decide in my mind.
I just know. And the second I question it, well, into the noisy cave we go.
Know Thyself
Be Thyself
Love thyself
And if loving yourself freaks you out because you get inundated with an endless stream of concepts, ideas, judgements, else. Love is just unconditional acceptance. To accept is to no longer resist. And when we don’t resist, we are free.
But first you have to know yourself; know your urges, greatest desires, and know your patterns, shortcomings, challenges. Tune into where you are being taken.
Then you have to be yourself; tune into your urges, desires, fulfil them as greatly as you can. Understand and develop ways of being that allow to separate the self and the noise. Being yourself is to practice the knowing of yourself.
Then you have to love yourself; stop holding up the tupperware lid to try and stop the inevitable flow of the river. Let it have you. Be taken by it, and know the part you play, and need to play.
I also have no idea what I’m talking about. This is just the endless stream of words I am presented with. That doesn’t stop.
Bye.
