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.