I’d learned now to walk away. Think. Focus. Strategise. Do something else that distracted me and gave me sensory feedback, which would help me to regulate. Everyone with ADHD was different; there were certain characteristics that people recognised, but a heap of different diversities were there too. With me, I needed sensory stimulation: weighted blankets, lifting weights, movement – all those helped stimulate my brain in a positive way, as did having something of interest I could focus on and get my happy chemicals in that way.
At the moment it was cooking.
I wasn’t a good cook. I wasn’t any sort of cook. But since I’d started to recover from the injury, I’d become interested in how big a part diet could play in terms of recovery, along with the physio and strength and conditioning work. That meant learning to cook too, because why not try everything?
I’d thought it would be fun to record my attempts, figuring they could be used for social media content or something on the website if I could look less idiotic at some point, hence the camera set-up. I looked into the lens and started to introduce myself and what I was going to do.
I had my ingredients out and ready, everything to hand, as well as one of Neva’s simple meal recipes that also explained what macros it contained. As I chopped and prepared veg and herbs, I talked through what training I’d done today and how physio had looked, and, in the layman’s terms in which I was fluent, I related how my food was connected to that.
I was completely oblivious to the man sat on my sofa, partially watching me in between checking something on his phone.
“Oh, look. I seem to have a visitor. It’s Jesse! Jesse, come up here and try some of this.” I managed to hold off being too over the top about it, knowing that I could edit this out – definitely the expletives that Jesse came out with.
“Seriously? You want me up there?”
He gestured to himself and then to my kitchen worktop.
I nodded. “Tell us what your menu looks like today.”
He frowned but came up anyway, looking totally awkward as I asked him questions about his training and what his typical diet looked like. It was the sort of content I’d talked about with Ezra and while this video might not make the cut, it was good practice.
I turned the camera off after Jesse and I had finished tasting what had just come out of my oven – it was a quick meal to prep and cook, no more than fifteen minutes.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” He frowned at me. “Seriously? You planning to audition for some bake off programme or something?”
I laughed; I had no idea how to bake a cake. “No, I’m trying out content for this thing I’m doing about healthy eating.”
He nodded. “Cool, I forgot about that. That’s what Neva’s helping you with, isn’t it.”
“Yep. By the way, how the fuck did you get in here?” I’d set my security when I got it, which meant Jesse had the codes just because he’d been hanging out there a lot around that time.
“You haven’t changed anything from when I stayed the other week.” He picked up an apple out of the fruit bowl and bit into it. “I knew the code and I’ve still got the fob for the gates.”
I shrugged. This was fair enough. Jesse was one of the most private people I knew so there was no way he was ever going to tell anyone anything, including codes. “What are you here for?”
He stifled a yawn. “Sorry, man. It’s been a long day. Just to chill. And check you’re okay – you left the complex like a rat on speed.”
I raised my eyebrows. “A rat on speed?”
Jesse shrugged. “Have you seen how quick a rat moves? Imagine if it had taken speed.”
“I’d rather not. Everything’s okay anyway. Thanks for checking up.” I pulled ingredients from the fridge to blitz a smoothie for both of us.
“So what’s going on? How’s the injury?” He took a seat on one of the barstools. “I heard it was healing well.”
“It is. It’s doing okay. Everything’s on track for me to be back after Christmas.” I shrugged and paused for a second while the blades did their thing, then poured the mix into a couple of glasses. “Here.”
“Thanks. Is this one of Neva’s?”
I nodded. Of course it fucking was. “I’m aware there can be setbacks with the tear but I’m doing what I’ve been told so fingers crossed I’ll be back for the game on New Year’s Day. You lot could fucking do with me sooner.” The team’s form at the moment had been hit and miss. We were fifth in the league and we’d had a couple of losses to teams we really should’ve beaten. Morale in the dressing room was low and a couple of new players hadn’t gelled.
“We could, but we’d rather have you back permanently so don’t fucking rush it and end up reinjuring it. That’s the worst thing you can do.” He shook his head. “But if your injury’s doing well, why didn’t you hang around?”
Jesse could be far too perceptive. “Just wanted to get back here. I want to get a bank of content ready for this project.”
He nodded. “That you’re doing with Neva.”
“That I’m doing with Neva. Food’s kind of her thing.” I fucking hated Jesse.
