James & Adhd

james & adhd

tw// everything to do w adhd?

james never understood why he always procrastinated. he never understood why he could never bring himself to do the work he knew he was supposed to be doing

“why can’t i just do it? i need to do it- i can’t- i can’t do it,” he’d whimper to himself, his charms homework lonely on his desk.

why did james always forget what he was saying? he swears the idea was there a second ago, but it’s no longer there, and to save his life, he couldn’t remember what that was.

james would raise his hand in class, the answer clear in his head. he knows what to say. as soon as he is called on, the thought slips like water through cracks. it was gone

everything was so goddamn loud. why was everything so goddamn loud?! auditory hypersensitivity? he couldn’t stand people talking on top of each other, he couldn’t stand the loud tv, he couldn’t stand the noises, unless he was the one making them.

he was a master at multi-tasking, but at the same time, he absolutely could not do it. if he was listening to music, and someone had walked in to speak to him, he’d turn the music off or he wouldn’t understand any of it.

on the other hand, while in class, he couldn’t just listen to his professor speak. it was impossible. he had to be doing something else. he was so under-stimulated it hurt.

james had glow in the dark stars on his ceiling. he had memorized how many stars were about to fall off, and how many moons were scattered about. the nights he had stared up at his ceiling, not being able to sleep were countless

rejection sensitive dysphoria.

he was so sensitive to rejection. one time, when sirius wouldn’t reply to his owl, he was sure that sirius hated him and never wanted to speak to him again. he cried in his bed for hours, desperately wanting to believe otherwise.

it was the same thing with criticism. he knew his friends were just trying to help him, but it still hurt him that he wasn’t doing it perfectly.

“hey prongs, your dive wasn’t the best last match, you should probably work on that!” sirius said to him during practice. and of course, it wasn’t his fault, but james could only smile and nod, feeling his heart wrench

he couldn’t handle his emotions well. if he walks in to the boys’ dorm, and they’re watching tv, that’s way too loud for james’ preference, he’d ask if they can lower the volume. if they say no, james would a twinge of sadness as he feels his eyes water.

one spring break, remus took the marauders to a muggle mall, and sirius insisted on stopping to check out the toy store. there, james found a little red and black fidget cube. at first he had just bought it cause it looked cool, but afterwards, you’d never spot james without it. if he was forced to stop using it in class, he’d bounce his leg, play with his quill, twist his ring, bite his lips, pick at the skin around his nails. anything. he needed to move. he needed to fidget.

talking about moving, he’d get in trouble for standing up too much in class. he couldn’t sit anymore, he felt as if he were about to combust, he shouldn’t be getting in trouble for that.

what was up with the two week obsessions that kept shifting?? one week he was so adamant on learning how to crochet, and the other, he just wanted to know everything about greek mythology. but soon enough, he didn’t care about any of those things anymore, and it didn’t feel right to him

james loved transfiguration. it was his favourite class and surprisingly enough, he loved when mcgonagall gave them homework. one time, she had told them to write a seven foot essay about the book they read that term. they had two weeks.

but james? he started it the day before the deadline, not because he didn’t want to do it, but because he knew it would take a ton of effort. but as expected, he loved doing it once he started. so he sat on the floor for six full hours, not moving a centimeter, working on that essay. no water breaks, no bathroom, no food. nothing. just the essay. hyperfixation.

for some bizarre reason that james would forever wonder, he always needed the pressure of failure or a competition / deadline to focus and get things done.

when it comes to regular tasks, he preferred to finish bigger tasks in one sitting, even though it rarely happened. but with smaller tasks, he would alternate, they’d get boring way too fast

and before actually starting said big task, james would feel paralyzed. he would be too overwhelmed to do anything. he’d just sit on the couch, and do nothing. because if he couldn’t do that task, he couldn’t do anything else. he just gets to sit there and worry about it. he hated it.

james struggled to wait for his turn. he knew it was rude to interrupt people, he knew he should be quiet when someone was talking, but he just couldn’t. before he’d even process what had happened, he’d cut someone off, mid-sentence, and say what he wanted to say, only to apologize afterwards.

body doubling. james always needed someone in the room with him as he worked or did anything really, as it helped him focus and complete the task faster, without getting distracted. just sitting in the same room would help

james constantly used anecdotal communication. he thinks he’s comforting others when he does this. but usually, they just get mad as they often think he’s trying to invalidate their struggles, when he’s only trying to make them feel better. he’s trying to show them that they’re not alone

“i’ve been failing divination and i don’t know what to do,” someone would tell him. “i’m failing divination too! really horribly! mate, i even get extra homework and stuff! it honestly sucks, you know? all the extra work doesn’t even help!” and that’s when the person thinks that he’s only trying to talk about himself.

his mind and thoughts were always faster than his mouth and hands. when writing, he’d skip words, or end up writing in a horrible handwriting. when reading aloud, he’d stutter and mix words up, since his mind was reading faster than his mouth was speaking.

everything. was. in. slow. motion. why did everyone talk so slowly? why couldn’t they talk faster? walk faster? just be faster.

james hated the way polyester felt. he couldn’t touch it. there was no way in hell you could get him to put a polyester jumper or jacket on. no. get it away. when he’d touch it, he’d feel like his hands were dirty, and immediately had to wash them

often during classes he would zone out, sometimes aware of it. his eyes would bore into the wall, as he stared into nothingness, his mind racing.

he loved to daydream. though it usually happens out of nowhere, as his thoughts drift, he enjoyed it. he loved to imagine himself fighting off aliens or winning the house cup.

he was the most impulsive perosn youd ever meet. if he felt like jumping into the black lake with his robes on, he would do it and there’s nothing you can do about it.

james had comfort items. a teddy bear he would never get rid of, one he had since he was a new born, and a gryffindor quidditch hoodie that was a tad bit too big for him. he’d wear that hoodie every single day if he could, and he could never fall asleep without the teddy bear.

james had adhd. living with it might’ve not been the easiest, but it made him him. and in his own way, he loved it, even if it got really really hard sometimes