Adderall

Hello all! Sorry I haven't posted as of late; I have been overwhelmed with work and school. Today I started taking Adderall for ADHD. I'm only going to be taking it on days that I have school, to help me focus, but today was my day off so I took one today to see how the dose affected me. As the meds were starting to wear off, I wrote a little blurb about it, and I thought maybe y'all would be interested. I hope you enjoy! Hoping to go back to regular updates soon!

I feel like my world is beginning to fracture. All day, I was vaguely aware of stimuli that normally would have been neigh unbearable to me: the whirring of my cat's toy mouse, a honking car horn, bright colors in windows that I pass on the street. All distractions, all set aside without any real difficulty. For the first time in my life, I could focus on one task and one task only. It was surreal and almost terrifying. The world felt flat and boring. The world has never seemed boring to me before.

But the medication is starting to wear off now. I catch myself tilting my head more, the temptations to open a new tab, start a new conversation, try out a new project, are getting stronger. My impulses are starting to flare up in protest at being dampened down all day. Even writing this is a compulsion I have patiently ignored and now have finally given in to. I should be working on my final essay. But this seems important. My first time coming off the meds. My first day of being on medication. The amount of focus I have had for most of the day has been incredible. I have never felt like that before.

I'm becoming more aware of sounds now. The hum of my refrigerator, the clicking of my laptop's keys, the shifting and settling of ice in the freezer. The scrape of my toenails against the hardwood as I curl them up in thought. All things I had not really paid any mind to today, when yesterday they would have driven me to distraction. My awareness to them is slowly returning.

And the colors. They are so much more interesting now than they've been all day. More and more, I find myself distracted by the burnt-out bulb in the ceiling light above me; I've been meaning to replace it for months and every time I think of it, another thought pops up and the concept of lighting is dismissed. But now it's becoming bigger in my mind. It wasn't even an issue today beyond a gentle dismissal earlier. I think I'll have to run to Target to buy more bulbs before this night is over.

See? They're coming back. It was so nice to sit for hours and work on my paper without a million extra tabs open, without music playing, without my brain jumping from task to task like a little wild thing. It has been at peace all day, sleepy. But it's waking now, and demanding to know why it has not been stuffed full of the stimulation that it normally gorges itself on. I do not have an answer to please it.

I can see why people think the world is boring. If I thought like this, if my perspective was like it was today all the time, I would probably be the same way: hardworking, careful, determined to succeed. But I'm not. My mind loves beauty, and it finds beauty everywhere. Adventures are easy to find, easy to conquer. Magic seems a reasonable possibility and the amount of wonder in my day-to-day life, something I take so much for granted, is faded today. Oh, I can still enjoy the pleasantness of a warm breeze, but I cannot hear its whispers. I can still smile at a cloudless sky, but the wonder of its sheer vastness does not overwhelm me today. The world is flat. Flat and boring.

I'm glad I'm not normal.

I am very, very glad my parents did not put me on Adderall as a child.

I am glad these small blue pills only last so long, and soon I will be able to take part in wonder again.

But hopefully I can finish my paper first.

The Boots and the Wings

I feel like it's time for another story. . .things have been pretty stressful for me lately, and soon I'll try to update all of you on it, but for now, enjoy this small tale a very good friend of mine has written. She calls it "The Boots and the Wings."

I believe it will make you think.

Once, many years ago, there lived a girl. She was average in just about everything, and just like everyone else, she was born with certain gifts and abilities. She wasn't very smart, but she was intelligent, wise even, and she knew it. Sometimes she wondered that if in the knowing, it made her gift untrue, but people seemed to appreciate her insight and often sought her advice, and so she decided maybe it was true after all. These were her boots, and she walked a long way in them down the path of life, for they kept her grounded and focused on her goals.

But this girl had another gift: creativity. She could sit in an empty room and fill it with voices, people, cities, histories even. When she dreamed, she was rarely herself, so vast was her imagination. And she rather liked that. Sometimes she used her creativity as a channel for her wisdom, but usually she used it for her own amusement. And for a while, that was enough.

But creativity grew within her so strongly that it could not be contained. Gradually, long, slender feathers arched from either side of her spine, forming small wings that grew larger and larger as she utilized her creativity more and more. These wings began to flap, straining upward, but the girl's feet were firmly planted on the ground, shod as they were in her boots of wisdom and intelligence.

At first, the strain was nothing much, just a little tug now and then that could be ignored. But as the girl continued to walk down her path, the wings beat harder and harder, and she could feel her body beginning to ache and strain, and she knew that she would have to choose between her creativity or her intelligence before she was torn in two.

The girl looked down the path she walked. She could see wonderful things there, far off but no less true for the journey. She looked at her family, her friends, the people she cared about. They all walked along this path in boots of their own, and many of them had achieved great and marvelous things. Many of them were happy, many of them had no regrets. But she could see the wings that had once been their creativity dragging along in the dirt behind them, out of strength. Oh, some of them still beat at the air a bit, displaying bits of musical or artistic talent in an otherwise wholesome and practical life, but for the most part, the life had faded from them, and this made her sad. She did not know if she wanted to be like that; the thought of a life with only bits and pieces of creativity within it scared her.

The girl looked up at the sky. Grey clouds gathered above her; it was empty up there, empty and unknown. She was afraid of that too; she did not want to spend her life alone in the sky while everyone she loved and cared about walked along the earth far below.

The wings on the girl's back strained harder the more she thought, and she could feel their desire throughout her whole body. She looked down at her boots. She had walked in them for a long time; they were comfortable, well-worn, certain and steady and long-lasting. She knew they would carry her far. But she could feel where they began to rub at her feet, creating small blisters, and she wasn't sure if her feet would adjust or if that pain would always be there. But her wings were new, untried and uncertain; she had no idea if they would even carry her weight. Her boots were what she had known, and the unknowing of the wings scared her.

Still, they strained, but she could feel them growing weaker, for she was pinned down to the earth by her boots. She knew that if she didn't decide soon, then her wings would lose their life forever.

And so she kicked off her boots.

Instantly she shot upward, ping-ponging off trees, mountains, even walls. It hurt, but after a while she was able to get a feel of flying and looked down at the people she loved. They called out to her, begging her to come back, to return to safety and convention. “You can help so many more people this way!” they cried. “You have so much potential—you can do great things!”

The girl looked past them, down at the path that she once walked in her boots, and it was true, there were many wonderful things along it. Success, happiness, peace and joy. All this, her boots would lead her to, and it was very wonderful indeed.

But the girl's wings pulled her up through the clouds even as she looked down at the path far below her and, curious, the girl looked up.

And she saw the stars.