Mer

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About Mer

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  • Birthday November 29

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    Female
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    East Coast, USA

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  1. Can't Believe it Happened to Me

    Hey Kiona, My experience has a few significant parallels to yours. Like you, I was at a loss as to how to battle my ADHD and depression and felt like I was taking a step in the adult direction by seeking management for it. And like you, I live with my parents. I'm 29. Like you, I experience supreme worthlessness and suicidal ideations. I came home two months ago to quit and though my parents knew I was taking medication and were highly against it because of the way it altered my behavior, they aren't educated in the addiction to and withdrawal from it. To them, a lazy, brooding, mono-toned shell of their daughter just crashed the comfortable little universe they'd been diligently maintaining and I have been too ashamed to talk to them about what exactly is going on. Two days ago, my mom asked me, "So what are we going to do about this depression? I think you need to talk to someone." And you know what? She's right. I broke down and told her how hard it is to want to do anything at all after wanting to do everything, how my cognitive functions have slowed down, how social interaction is draining because I've been so disconnected from pure connection with another person for so long, how angry I am for being "lazy". But I'm not lazy, and neither are you, or you wouldn't have proactively sought methods to combat a state you knew was holding you back from the things you want in life. You recognized your journey to attain happiness and the possible aspects of your physical vessel that could be holding you back from that venture. You aren't a lump by nature, even after adderall, or you wouldn't be so deeply ashamed of your lack of want. You WANT to WANT. I myself experience paralyzing anxiety that stems from a lack of belief in myself to soberly accomplish, deep shame for the ingratitude of my addiction and the things I lost from it, and a now untreated ADHD that spins every menial task into a web of "how the fuck can I possibly accomplish anything in life when I can't just do this thing?" I am also pummeled with these flashbacks to my best moments on adderall, like when you start to get over a bad relationship and have an inner longing for the warm and fuzzy highlights that made you love that person. But like jumping back into the dating pool after heartbreak, you're still getting your legs under you. You're painfully insecure and unsure of yourself; you've had a reliable source of external control and now you only have your insides to work with--and you've been so out of touch with who you really are that you don't accurately understand what your feelings actually mean. You won't bounce back to your prior state--but face it, treating depression with adderall meant that you were terrified of returning to that painful state in the first place. So now you're where you dreaded, but with a battered ego and an exhausted brain. And you're gaining weight, which is a traumatizing experience for anyone, especially women. You can't compare your current self to your best self on adderall. You have to look at the whole picture of your journey and try to summon some gratitude that your body endured so much abuse at the price of your ego. My advice? Tell the people you're afraid to tell if the shame of their opinions is affecting your current happiness. Their disapproval of psychiatric drugs will be overshadowed (and probably strengthened) by their love for you. It is a gift to be vulnerable with the people we love because it is painful to watch someone endure something we don't understand because we can see no way to help them. You're like a delicate child right now, and you have to guide yourself accordingly. The pain and shame of addiction keeps us in an altered consciousness, both regretting and longing for the experiences that culminated to this very state of being. But look at how much you've changed in the past two years. The way in which you battle addiction in the next two years will shape your future person in the same way. You need to be as educated as possible, you need support, you need professional guidance, you need to be able to give yourself the tools so that you can trust yourself. An impulse to isolate is actually a sign of loneliness, it is your feelings telling you that you're damaged and you need some external support and healing. Supplement your cravings for adderall with love from family or friends. Find a new social network where you can be seen as you are rather than as who you have been. Don't sit in self hatred or disappointment, everything that you've ever been looking for is what you already are. What you really need is to fall in love with yourself. Thank yourself for seeking help, and admit that this attempt was a failure. Failure is good. We learn from failure. Remember the things you loved about yourself before medication, the things you loved to do. Keep a gratitude journal. Allow your motivation to come from a place of love for yourself and the people around you; they have been working just as hard as you have to attain happiness, but without the use of adderall. Learn from them. Learn how to love and appreciate them again, learn how to appreciate and take care of yourself. It's fucking hard, man. Acknowledge that it's hard, but don't let that be an excuse to not do better, to continue seeking the life that makes you happy.
  2. Quit That Sh*t

    I'm just going to be candid because I hope that someone might find some connection with my experience and keep it in their heads to bolster their resolve. I haven't been on this site in months, but I have thought about it every single day. I think perhaps a combination of shame, fear, and a stubborn sense of seclusion kept me from seeking anything that echoed the constant murmur that was in my head: Adderall was changing me. It was changing my life, and not for the better. An emotional disaster of a relationship, alienation from coworkers who had been some of my good friends, all but shunned by nearly all of my closest friends, some of the best people I know--this year has been rough. And I can confidently say that, among a nest of other contributors for most of which I bear responsibility, adderall was the beautiful orange seed from which so many of my pains blossomed. The absolutely most painful relationship to lose was the one that I had with myself. I moved back in with my parents at the beginning of the month. I filled my last prescription in the beginning of July, using the excuse of having to pack up/clean a house and having one last fling with this version of myself with whom I had developed an intimate relationship. Sometimes it seems like home is the best place to separate from my addiction, away from a city in which I used to feel at home, a big neighborhood where everyone knows everyone. And sometimes it scares the shit out of me to feel myself regress, falling into habits I had hoped to outgrow. But I would rather have to get this lazy, mopey self up and to the gym or let her sit quietly with a book even if she keeps closing it because she is distracted by some other thought, than rely on the constant cycle of keeping a source of external control close to my person just in case I wasn't feeling "on". I say control, but truly, I wasn't in control--Adderall was. I lost touch with reality, unable to trust my thoughts or actions. Working in the service industry, I needed it to talk to people all day, to be chatty and charming and interested in other people. I needed to take it before meeting with my friends, seeing them observe the unraveling threads and feeling like I had to prove that I was alright. But the truth is, I wasn't being myself, I wasn't being honest, I hated myself for it, and I deeply feared the person I was without it. My perspective was so microscopically focused, peering into the petri dish of what life was made of, but I had completely lost sight of what living life was at all. After a relationship that made me question my own value and what I know now was a drug addiction, I will be damned if I let something or someone take myself from me again. I've been off of adderall for really not that long, and I want it constantly, but the craving is always immediately followed by the thought of losing all of the things I cherished the most. I feel sluggish and unmotivated, I sleep longer and deeper--with such vivid dreams! My appetite has definitely increased, though in my case it is for the better. My self-correcting anxiety is off the fucking charts. It takes active effort to quell the moment-to-moment frustration and self-berating when my brain shuts down the moment I'm faced with a necessary task. I don't put pressure on myself to do anything that isn't absolutely necessary in the moment and try my best to avoid anything that makes my thoughts spiral into an overwhelming web of inadequacy. Boxes to unpack? Fuck it. Text messages unread? They'll be okay for a day. Need to clean the bathroom? Give it a minute. Things always need to be cleaned. They will get dirty again. This time is about me, my body, and repairing the relationship that I have with my own mind. It is an investment into my own self control, into giving this person whom I've abused and used in ways I'd never treat another human a moment to just rest and be. My brain works hard for me in a world vibrating with constant stimulation, and I try to treat it like a friend rather than as a slave. Whatever your faith, THIS life that's happening RIGHT NOW happens only once. You don't want to waste it being someone you are not, using yourself like a ragdoll for the approval of other people. You are not what others think of you--you are an incredible, perfect combination of matter, the only vessel through which you get to experience this journey. You don't want to feel like you are the perpetual passenger, watching indiscriminate scenery flash past your window. You want to be the driver, no matter what condition the car is in--and chances are, you're saddled with a pretty decent ride that you've been claiming was a lemon. Life isn't about never feeling pain, never feeling insecure, never feeling awkward or tired or unmotivated. You need to experience those sensations and walk straight into them to prove to yourself that you can actually endure and thrive. One of the many things adderall users have in common is a lack of confidence in their conscious self, and the only way that you will rebuild your belief is by forcing yourself into discomfort and accepting what you are capable of in that moment. And if you feel like you can't live the life you're leading currently without adderall, not only is it unsustainable, but you don't really want to be doing what you're doing anyway. So fuck it. Do something else. Do anything else. I know you may be having those "You don't understand" thoughts chattering about how important your job is and how important you are to your job, but I can guarantee that every person who is on this site feels the weight of their world on their shoulders. You are literally a part of the greater evolution. The thoughts you think, the way you live your life, the way you use your brain, is already having an affect on the world in ways that you cannot currently fathom. I encourage you to take control. To treat yourself with kindness. To seek forms of meditation (there are literally apps), and also to allow your mind to escape sometimes when it wants to. Go for walks, go be out in the world, even if you aren't immediately interested in it. Get a gym membership. Eat things you like. I am regaining my own trust, but I can already remember her familiar face, and it is so nice to see her again.
  3. I am afraid.

    So I didn't take Adderall today. Parked outside of an NA meeting, but I couldn't bring myself to go in. It was located in a mildly seedy part of the city and I had anxiety about walking through a door guarded by an older biker-type gentleman into a meeting for which I was already a little bit late. I attempted to muster some grit, but my backbone is already bent with shame and it would have taken a lot to stroll in with my shorts and ponytail. Instead, I went to the closest wooded area and walked for awhile. I went to a diner by myself. I came home and did some dishes and watched Russell Brand's "From Addiction to Recovery." And that all felt pretty good. And now, I feel...like jumping off of a fucking bridge. I am so ashamed of my own selfishness. For my move at the end of July, I have to pack up a house that I live in with a friend who I now haven't spoken to in over a month. His sister is a recovered alcoholic, addiction has had a substantial impact on him and his family and he has an unempathetic view of addicts--in our last conversation, he told me that he didn't believe addicts were capable of understanding addiction, that he wasn't going to be anyone's savior, that "this is what addiction looks like." Most of the people I have been close to don't trust me, and rightfully so. I've been a monster and I can't imagine what it has been like to tolerate my behavior, I don't know that there is much that I can do right now to humanize my experience when my state has been completely unrelatable and downright toxic. There isn't anything that I can say that won't be interpreted through the narrative that I have created. I went home to my parents' yesterday, back to the house of disorganized chaos where unfinished projects and partially-read books clutter each surface (an ADHD household in its truest form). I wanted to be honest with my mom so badly, but she's...you know, a mother. And frequently my problems become more about how she can help than what I really need. She will call and text constantly after dabbling in research about any issue I have whether or not the advice is invited. Though I appreciate her support I REALLY REALLY DO, I feel instantly discouraged, overwhelmed, and disempowered by her need for purpose. And I don't know how to find myself in a home that feels like it has no space for me, one that is just as anarchic as my head. At almost 30, I have faded from the seemingly promising pursuit of my dream career. I have lost incredibly meaningful relationships, my reputation, and my mind--and they were all my own doing. My job is a trigger for a lot of substances but I'm afraid I won't be able to start a new one when I come back down to Earth and see a fucking slug in the mirror. But what I see in the mirror now makes my heart break. I just feel pretty alone, and I feel like I deserve to be.
  4. I am afraid.

    Can not tell you how much your reply means. I carried it in my mind throughout my day, and there were some trying moments. Thank you.
  5. I am afraid.

    Thank you. Thank you, thank you. I will.
  6. I am afraid.

    I came across this website this week and it has truly been life-changing. I have been so alone, watching something alter my mind and body and not being able to discuss my anxieties with anyone for fear of scaring them. I started taking Adderall in August. I'd taken it and loved it (loved it) before then, but I only took it from time to time. I've had depression since I was eleven and was prescribed Adderall once before (not for depression, but I'd been prescribed anti-depressants also) when I was thirteen or fourteen, but I didn't trust pills and wouldn't take them. I've been going through hell with my depression for the past few years and it got to a point where I knew it was beyond my control. It took me a long time to decide I would try medication, just to get me off the ground and give me the motivation to help myself get better. About ten months ago, I met with a psychiatrist and after the first appointment, I was diagnosed with ADHD and handed a prescription for Adderall 20mg XR. I felt...a lot of things. I had gone in expecting an anti-depressant and came out with what felt like a key to heaven. I felt guilty and elated. I felt validated. I had identified a goal: fix myself. And my Adderall-induced brain went to work. I became obsessed with consciousness and psychology. I was having constant epiphanies about life and the world and myself--and though my mind was in a limbo of euphoria and sadness, I really did discover so many things about myself and what I believe. My journey with Adderall was a spiritual one. I consumed podcasts and TedTalks like potato chips. My interest in the world was superfocused and I was picking it apart like a puzzle. But while my internal world was populating, my external world was falling apart. I was in a relationship that was definitely emotionally abusive with a guy who is very critical and controlling, and my depression and the Adderall just kept me spinning around and around, looking for this "better self" that I was trying to achieve. I couldn't sleep and I didn't eat. I lost a ton of weight. My skin looked like shit. I had rings underneath my eyes that I couldn't hide with any amount of make up. Prior to Adderall, though I needed time alone to rejuvenate and recalibrate, I had always had lots of great friends and was social. I have alienated myself from most of my friends, offending them or acting crazy with my monstrous and wounded ego (and a boyfriend whom they all hated). Adderall exaggerated other addictions, which I think is inevitably good because it made me recognize them for what they were. I was using external substitutes as ways to control myself because I felt out of control from the inside. I changed my prescription months ago to 10mg IR. I am still not myself. Not that I expected to be my full self. I don't remember what that feels like anymore. I am so fucking scared of returning to where I was before I began medication. I am scared of being sedentary, and returning to hopelessness. Adderall gave me the drive and focus that I have always desired and hated myself for lacking. But now I am an empty shell, I don't trust myself to be myself, and I'm terrified of what I am doing to my mind and body. My heart is constantly racing. I often cannot take a full breath. My veins look fucking terrifying and I can feel that my teeth and gums are just a little bit...different. I can't communicate clearly, interrupting myself midsentence and speaking it parables. I can't converse without philosophizing. With a lowered dosage, my brain gets tired and I am often fighting with it for consciousness as it longs to drift off into a fantasy world of tangents. I don't know what of my mind is mine and what is a drug anymore. I want to regain myself, but I also don't want to lose myself. I am so afraid that I will no longer be intelligent without medication, that the static will creep back into my mind and all of my thoughts will be erased. I am moving back home in a month. I wrote a letter to my mom, inspired by this website. I just...learning is so important to me. I don't want to lose my ability to do so. I don't want to lose my luster for life. But I am exhausted and hurt and lost.