Strung Along

I might be starting to tire of the state that I once sought after, long ago in the spring of this strange experiment. From the inside, I can feel when my face has frozen up into what Ian Daly in Details called "the look":

"America, the land of excess, fads and optimism about finding the right fixes for everything and anything, will probably continue to use and abuse Adderall. There will be the "Adderall Look" -- too focused, emaciated, tired -- that will dominate professional circles. Not having it will be a signal not to take us seriously (we're probably only working 60 hours a week). Well-intentioned muckrakers will push for a ban on Adderall and a rethinking of our notion of success."

While it felt good to be centered in that space of productivity and ideas and enthusiasm--I came up with a book idea, have applied to several jobs, am working to finish a third young adult book on deadline--it has not felt great to remain stuck there all the time.

There are the times when I just want to sit on the couch. I mean, there hasn't been much of that time to speak of, but it's an aspiration.

There are the times I should be talking to a friend about what's happening in my heart, instead of an article I read and why it's sociologically significant.

I am starting to feel that hole. Although I'd like one life exclusively to write, and many other lives for the rest of it, I can't live an authentic life from behind a screen. No freelance project in the world will give it to me.

I'm not sure if I'll continue, or save them. The problem with Adderall is that the early writing days on it were so revelatory that I did not want it to end. Of course, it's different now. I can stay up nearly all night to make some progress on my writing, yet at that level of fatigue my distractedness breaks through, anyhow. Or I'll find myself crafting long, exacting essays/posts that are OTHER than what I need to be doing. Not necessarily helpful, either.

In the Chest

Keep off the caffeine, advises the doctor. At least significant amounts of it.

As with my pregnancy, I teeter on the edge of advisable anyhow. It's how the last few years have worked. If I can speed up, there seems no sense in slowing down.

At the edge of advisable, I begin to feel it in my chest. Caffeine and adderall and stress and LIFE. It's all there, like when I began hyperventilating the day after our second daughter was born and my husband was explaining how we'd need to drive out to Trenton to pick up his sister before driving down to Toms River....

The body knows. Like my face now, it tracks my history. If I want to know what I've piled up, I ask my heart.

My heart should be holding more than to-dos. It should be expanding in the sun with children, instead of clattering away in here while my daughter sits in the other room. This is what you get, I tell myself.

I let time hem my life in, and those who rattle on about time like crows. And my faults, they remember them, too. In the sheerest of memories, I was perfect to myself. I could do no wrong.

Steadiness

Back on XR as of last Tuesday. My body already had withdrawn from either, with some days of intense fatigue and some symptoms of vague nausea and listlessness. This week my energy has been steady, my mood consistent.

Which is huge, since a BIG challenge for me pre-Adderall-anything was keeping my late afternoon mood pleasant enough to interact positively with my children. I had tried everything: snacking, tea, exercise. It has for years been a challenging part of the day for me. To sail through those hours feels like such a gift right now, I am grateful.

The Well is Dry

6/2/09: Ran out. Chalk it up to my regular failure to plan ahead. You would have thought a 2 minute phone call to schedule an appointment would have been considered less painful than dealing with any potential withdrawal symptoms.

So, were there?

The first day, yes. I spent at least one tired, cranky half-hour block figuring out how I could get a refill besides waiting ONE WEEK for the doctor (!). I mean, I teach on Thursdays right now. I felt my mind reeling: I need to be on top of my game, now I won't be.

That's the part that sticks in my craw. I had already redefined what my "best self" was, and how it was possible.

Today was better. I kept moving, puttering and cleaning and not allowing myself too much time to stew.

I imagine that after next week's appointment, after the reuptake of the medicine, I'll be coasting back up that initial euphoria mountain, waxing philosophical about Lily Allen songs and writing something that seems the "best ever."

Serves me right.

Euphorically Alienating

"Any actual amount of time spent under the influence is hard to describe, because time passes very quickly. It's a euphoric drug, but also an alienating one."

***

"More than anything, Adderall simulated the enthusiasm that a good teacher naturally stokes. For three years my brain, normally so recalcitrant, became my will's devoted vehicle. But there's a downside to a drug that makes everything interesting. By the end of junior year, I still had no idea what I liked or was good at. This past fall, when my senior year started, I took a break from the drug—at first because I couldn't find any, and then because I refused it. It took these four abstinent months to realize that I was not supposed to be electrified by everything I learned in school; that some of it had a vaccinating purpose, so that by trying a little now and reacting badly, I could fend it off later.

Finals period without Adderall passed slowly and pleasantly. It turns out that the feverish moral imperative to work was an effect of the drug, not a cause. I lingered over my reading and drank coffee to stay awake. There were no more ecstatic Joan-of-Arc-in-the-library experiences, no more imagined channeling of dead literary critics—but this, I suppose, is appropriate when what's at stake is only a 15-page essay on Jane Austen, double spaced."

from Kickstart My Heartin N+1, by Molly Brown

Fatigue

The problem: when it is not in my system, I am one cranky bitch. Question: from continual overextension, or something worse?

"An Informed Decision"

The first person account/response to the Talbot piece at Daily Kos.

On this end, I had switched after a few weeks from Adderall XR to regular Adderall, believing that the XR's cost was prohibitive. Meanwhile, my research had totally missed the news that XR was available as a generic in April. I feel like those wires were completely crossed, because I prefer the extended focus, of course. Who wouldn't? The regular Adderall seems to give me only about a four-hour window of focus and calm regarding projects. Not enough. Even seven hours would be so much more helpful.

Marriage

I married a very high-energy, work-motivated man. Adderall is the only way I can keep up with my husband. In the last two weeks, I have been amused to see him falling asleep on the couch or for naps with or without the children while I keep on doing.

I don't write this as a point of pride. I find it funny. And when I am resting after all of this, I will also find it a bit sad.

Margaret Talbot on "Cosmetic Neuroscience"

http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/04/27/090427fa_fact_talbot?currentPage=all

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=103274576

And in the New York Times:

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/21/boosting-brain-stamina-with-drugs/

One of the comments posted to Brian Lehrer (WNYC, not linked above) was from a freelance writer who called his use of the stimulant key to his "economic survival."

Wow.

That really startled me, and made me realize that some small reason for my own use mimics his. But my motivation also includes a drive to overachieve, a drive for recognition beyond my existing circles. A drive to find my voice in a world and time where downtime no longer exists.

***

Beyond the first post, I haven't charted how it has made me "feel." That only interested me for about three days, anyway. I noticed pretty quickly that my body adjusted, save for a more rapid heartbeat when I am lying down at night, which by the way I find pretty **cking alarming.

So for two weekend days I went off entirely. The first day I felt really crummy, but I couldn't attribute that Adderall because I had been getting such little sleep with all these deadlines. The second day was better.

Another day I took 10 mg (2 pills) and enjoyed a few hours of unmitigated focus.

Given the alarming heart effects (I have yet to discuss this with the doctor), I am inclined to use it on an as-needed basis, though I need to research whether the heart would better tolerate regular or infrequent use.

I mean, it wouldn't be THAT infrequent. It's like saying, "No, I'll leave the cape in the closet this month. I don't need to fly there."

Gotten

In the fall I took a class at a local adult school called, "Adult ADD: What Is It?" It sounded fun: a little how-to-organize your life class which always draws the womenfolk. The teacher, a professional organizer and mother to ADD boys, covered too little material to magically organize MY life, but her lists of traits rang familiar.

Later, she turned the pathologized traits around: how can they help you?

I appreciated learning that my madcap ways made me creative and even fun.

But sometimes I just want to get shit done.

With two children who are now walking, talking little people who usually respect others and aren't ill, I am ready to breathe some life into the career I have always planned for: writing and teaching.

I already do both. But in a crazy way. My husband watches the kids while I go to campus, but the rest of the week I need to respond to student inquiries, grade papers, run virtual meetings, create lessons. Oh, and I'm finishing my first book to be published in the fall.

And I leave everything until the last possible minute. Everything. Especially the really, really important stuff. I've only improved in small things: putting the keys back in the same spot, having the gift wrapped an hour before the party.

But you should SEE the laundry. And the FILING.

So that's what brought me to the doctor's door.

I know what you're going to say. You need someone to help out. My husband runs his own business and freelances on the side to pay for little luxuries like property taxes. I am angry at the universe that the bulk of domestic duties has fallen on my shoulders, but I am also realistic: I want a career where I can work from home. And that wasn't a result of "wanting to be there for the kids," although that's nice. I've always wanted to hole up and work and save myself the time others spend on the small talk shuffle.

Too bad my perfect work environment requires SELF-REGULATION.

I hadn't been at the doctor's office for three years. Our family pharmacy has no record of prescriptions for me, either. I preferred Omega-3 and SAM-E and essential oils. But deep in my thirties, I was ready to bend my objection to brain medication. I was getting old enough to forget some of the principles forged at 22. I was ready to surrender.

It didn't take long to plead my case. I was sincere and I played sincere. I was 95 percent sure he would write it, given his reputation. He asked the nurse if they had any Adult ADD questionnaires. They didn't. He wrote the prescription anyway.

***

Tonight is the first night. My feet are cold. I was less hungry today. Before going to the doctor, I was eating frosting from the freezer in pure deadline anxiety. I exercise two or three times a week, and walk daily, but the cravings only improve on weeks of really intense exercise. Other days spent working from home can be out of control.

I created this blog to explore the space of contradiction in this medication. In many ways, I felt it would help me live as the best self, the one that gets buried under the chaos. But I also want my life to be even better than that: polished, efficient, brilliant, engaged. Full of achievement that my ego can finally bask in. I want to get rid of my flaws instead of honoring them.

I want my rightful spot among the writers, models and academic performers of Adderall Nation.