All good things come to an end

[jmac]

Hi everyone. After reading so many stories that mirrored mine, I decided to tell you all about mine and hopefully get some help. I'm not the type to air personal stuff, but things aren't working. I am coming apart at the seams, and at this point think it might be best to open the gates. I'll try to keep it short and sweet. No promises though.

I've been on XR a little under 2 years now. I didn't seek help for my attention deficit until after I graduated college, even though I knew it was a serious problem since junior year. I strongly believe that I am a legitimate ADD candidate, however my prescribed Adderall usage was usually not the most therapeutic. My college career was defined by procrastinating and an inability to do the task at hand, even if I was sitting at my desk for hours. I would read something, and then realize 15 minutes had gone by, I had absorbed nothing, and found myself fixated on something entirely unrelated. Almost like dozing off the wheel in that I would try to be more aware, but it would only be after snapping back into focus that I realized it had happened again. It was only when the final hour before a deadline approached, that under much stress I found myself in the zone as I rushed to complete my work, sometimes a 10 page research paper overnight. It became known to those close to me as "my thing". I was the kid who could cram/overnight/marathon projects and exams that took most people preparation, usually with high marks. I was proud; a sense of gifted accomplishment in knowing I could skip to the front of the line, so to speak, when faced with difficulty.

A short background on me: my whole life has been marked by a distinct lack of something. This nebulous void has always been troublesome, and made me depressed and lonely for most of my growing up years. I was always encouraged to take up a plethora of activities, and did so. I studied music for most of my life, and have played more kinds of sports than I can recall. But even as a young kid my father would sometimes ask, benignly, why I didn't seem to "be in the game". Even when little, certain kids would clearly be lost in the game, with unhindered focus and committment. I was always involved in the game, but at the same time thinking about what I was doing later, what I was going to eat, etc etc. I realize this half-hearted involvement in life's activities carried on through college, and formed the core of my all-nighter habits.

So I guess this background isn't so short after all. Congratulations are in order if you made it this far, as I've lost my train of thought already myself. Anyway, personality wise, Adderall was not a big change from my normal self. Aside from boundless energy, motivation, and a little extra confidence, I still had elements of social anxiety that were prevalent in my childhood. I'll always remember the fear I felt as a kid in line at the cafeteria in school, fear that after receiving my lunch that I wouldn't know where to sit. Fear that if I didn't have my spot surrounded with friends, that everyone would laugh. Fear that once I found my spot with friends, that they would be whispering things about me as I walked towards them. I'll chalk that one up to the cost of hanging with the cool kids in High School I guess. The bullshit that seems so important at the time. Nevertheless, I underwent a typical, but natural character transformation for a guy in college, complete with the long flowing hair. Much to the chagrin, and bitter envy of chumps all over campus I might add. I was basically a guitar short of being the quintessential college douche; careless in expressing appreciation where it was due, and hearty in overestimating my own coolness. Long story short, I overcame much of my shyness, developed confidence in myself, and celebrated this personal victory as often as I could. With as many cute girls as I could.

Even after college, I never succeeded in filling the void. I still had concentration issues and could never see anything through. After deciding to take some time off before going for more school, I was hit with excruciating boredom and lack of motivation. Perhaps it was depression, but I had no shortage of things I could have been doing, but absolutely no will to do them. All while being feeling alone and miserable. So to get help I finally saw a doctor who saw my ADD qualities and prescribed me. I spent the better part of a year sticking to around 40mg a day, almost always chewed. I rarely took a day off, until my prescription would run out a few days early. As with many others, Adderall solved... everything. My difficulty staying on task and absorbing was no longer an issue. I was elated, feeling moderate euphoria for much of this time. My story here is not much different than all the others. Poor decisions based on unsound, chemically altered logic, the overinflated confidence in disposition, and the casual disregard for one's well being.

It was the first time I had real passion. There wasn't enough time in the day to do the things I wanted to do. All things that have always been in my life, but now they were alive. I got exponentially better in my musical ability, became well adept at working on cars and undertaking serious overhauls of components with no previous experience. And doing it right. It was the first time my father said he saw some passion out of me. Things were good. I was happy. I rode that train for a while, with hidden denial that it was likely leading to feel-like-shit's-ville. I wasn't oblivious to the nature of the substance, and even did some research every once in a while to confirm I wasn't in trouble. I had no mentionable comedown effects like anxiety, no paranoia, no nothing. My only problem was sometimes feeling the buzz dwindling and wishing it came back. I used Adderall just to want to do the things I've always wanted to do that I never had motivation for. For the first time having things I could say were real hobbies that I had a real emotional connection to. Music for hours and hours until I got blisters were some of my best memories. But at the same time, without realization, my diet was going downhill, my drinking was getting worse, my attitude more reckless and self absorbed, and it began taking its toll on my family. My behavior was unpredictable at best, and any accusation of wrong doing, or confirmation of my irresponsibility from my parents resulted in rage, terrible words, storming out and getting fucked up. I found the more depressed I felt at these low points, the more inclined I was to self-destructively hit the meds.

6 months ago I could no longer deny the changes that had taken place. My day increasingly revolved around the state of my buzz, with my doseage ranging from 60mg to 120mg and my prescription running out 2 weeks early. My goals/desires/values seemed to change back and forth along with feelings of depression. Promises unkept, pain caused on the ones I love, losing my old apartment, and eventually quitting my job because I could barely handle my composure with the paranoia and delusions. I've become the most serious intense zombie you'll ever meet, and I can't even fake a smile in the mirror as if my face is set in stone. Some days the pills just make me space out, tired, weak, with objects beyond my immediate vicinity out of focus. I judge the quality of my buzz by the level of stimulated discomfort. I frequently lose my train of thought talking to people, and when I do speak the words sound uninteresting, hollow, and generic. And that is how I feel. The thought of social situations is terrifying at times, and I feel everyone I know has caught on to me. Sometimes it takes everything I have to stay composed in public under the crushing weight of paranoia that I continually reassure myself is ridiculous and imaginary. My jaw hurts, and sometimes I feel excessive pressure in my ears similar to an airplane descent, along with ringing. The chest pains.

Worst of all is my unpredictability. Some days good, some compassionate for others, some depressed and utterly devoid of empathy and understanding. I told myself I would quit last month, but after 2 weeks of drowsy, depressed, direction-less hell, I decided to gradually take myself off with the next prescription. The first 3 days were fantastic, taking proper doses with no recreational desire. Just the subtle calm-inducing effect to live my life. My goals came back into view, with the desire and motivation to fulfill them. I felt like a human being again, spending quality time with my family, feeling regret for how I've been, but not letting it bring me down. Appreciation. Empathy. Until my terrible sleep pattern caught up to me. And with a road trip where I had to stay awake, I regrettably reached for the pills. Upon returning home, my behavior from times past began to reemerge over a simple incident. And this time, I knew inside how immature my response was, and I knew what I should do, what the mature me knows I should do. But I haven't. Almost as if it has awoken my angry-depressed capabilities, I am again stoic in my appearance, and utterly depressed beneath. Goals? What goals? Again exceeding my doses in the last few days, sometimes taking pleasure in the intense sadness it brings out, because it's better than no emotion at all. I just don't want to live like this. Every minute of every day is excruciating. Last night, I wrote a long letter dedicated to my parents expressing my deepest regret and apologies for how I have been. And what I've caused them. Recalling memories from my childhood in that letter, I remembered a different, younger, simpler me. Whose biggest worry was finding a seat after lunch. Whose biggest priority was secretly saving his lunch money knowing his mom would be so upset if she knew he wasn't eating properly. The countless late night conversations, with the two people who loved him more than he could imagine or deserve, always leaving him feeling empowered and capable of anything. I couldn't keep it together. And I cried. I know it is no one's fault but my own. My actions have led me to where I am now. What hurts the most is that my family has no knowledge of these things, and I know they still see their old son, the kid they spoiled out of love. I can't bear to tell them and let them down. I hope they never have to see that letter and I'll be in a place where I can say it to them myself.

I wrote a lot more than I originally intended. Sorry, but I gave fair warning. I can't wait until I can say I am myself again free of the hold this stuff has taken on me. It was comforting to know I am not alone in this process. I know when I overcome this, it will be the proudest self accomplishment I'll ever have, that I'll never tell anyone about. Thanks for reading.

[matilda]

Hey jmac --

Welcome! Your story was very engaging and vividly written. I am 4 months Adderall-free myself and it is so, so worth it, in my unsolicited opinion. I can only say how it has been from where I sit, but I read in your post one very succinctly put line that you clearly also knew was at the heart of it all -- it was for me too: "A short background on me: my whole life has been marked by a distinct lack of something."

I submit the following, also and only based on my experience: I don't believe you would feel the lack if just that something didn't exist to dispel the lack you feel. Finding out, without the drug in my system, what that could be has changed everything for me from the ground up.

M

[tinybuddha]

Matlida my hope in that your words might be true for me is keeping me going tonight.

[matilda]

tinybuddha --

They've been true for me. That much I can say for sure -- and what has come in to fill the lack for me has been very real and palpable, unmistakable. Not the product of passing imagination or wishful thinking. An open and earnest (and explicitly expressed) desire to find it was the key for me, but I am definitely a work in progress!

M

[waronwar]

I too understand the lifelong lack of something. This drug has made me a mess. I haven't stopped taking yet, but it doesn't work anymore and I can't do anything without it. Good luck to us all... We will find the right way to fill that void, but it's gonna take a lot of work. I'm honestly scared, but I have to do it

[jmac]

Hey y'all. Honestly I'm surprised people read all of that and responded. Thanks though. To be frank I kinda tried to forget I wrote it because it just feels like a overly verbose, embarassing trainwreck of a post, but appreciate people reading it anyway.

Since the initial post, I went two weeks, and after all the fatigue, depression, worthlessness, I finally started to "recover". I became my old self, even though its kinda been so long it felt really foreign at first. But it was undoubtedly refreshing to not be a stoic, super cereal zombie for a change. But... I started feeling good, like my old self again, and thought I'd give it another go just to feel better. It was only a phone call away right? I told myself I'd take fun size doses just for the extra focus and awake feeling that coffee just doesn't seem to quite get to. And it worked. For about a week and a half. Then I didn't feel any positive benefit, nothing at all really as I would even get tired around 9 and go to bed at a reasonable hour?! Then sure enough, the lil zombie in me peeked its head out just to say what's up. Fuuuuck that.

Yesterday I decided enough is enough... forever. For the first time, I don't want any of it back. Not the good, and sure as hell not the bad. Up until now I've always half heartedly "quit". I think it's safe to say I'm never touching it again. Did one last unceremonious, and predictably anti-climactic blast for old times sake, assurance, and closure. I just can't waste more time trying to decipher what my mind is telling me I should do next from what the drugs are trying to convince it.

Waronwar: Sounds like you are in the pickle I've been in up till now. The pills are pretty much ineffective, but there's still that lingering desire for more. And yeah after a two week vacation, you're guarenteed at least one day when you take it again of blasting into the past days of honeymoon glory. Hopefully you can quit right now, but if you're like me, you won't "know" you're done until you really believe it.

I'm about to make a huge decision, life path style right now, and its just a waiting game until I know for sure in a week or two if what I think I want is actually what I want now that I'm clean. Hopefully my body takes it easy on me and doesn't make me feel like a total piece of shit. Again. Whatevs, I'm ready for it.

Wow I really can't make a short post. No big surprise there, the babbling brook I have always been. It's kinda my thing.

[CajunGrocer27]

For the first time having things I could say were real hobbies that I had a real emotional connection to. Music for hours and hours until I got blisters were some of my best memories. But at the same time, without realization, my diet was going downhill, my drinking was getting worse, my attitude more reckless and self absorbed, and it began taking its toll on my family. My behavior was unpredictable at best, and any accusation of wrong doing, or confirmation of my irresponsibility from my parents resulted in rage, terrible words, storming out and getting fucked up. I found the more depressed I felt at these low points, the more inclined I was to self-destructively hit the meds.

I couldn't have said it better myself. I became so self-absorbed in music, because for the first time I was able to enjoy doing it for hours at a time, that I actually ruined friendships and relationships with girls because it was all I cared about. I acted like a complete nut and asshole but felt it was completely justified.

The hard part about quitting is finding the motivation to continue to do things that make you happy, such as music, without the euphoric kicker of a pill. I'm two months clean and still trying to find that motivation but just know that your story is very similar to many of the experiences of other members of this site.

[Freedom's Wings]

Since quitting adderall has anyone noticed the inability to process musical rhythm, or rhythmic abilities?? Ive always written music (lyrics over beats), and as with many others during my long stint on adderall, I got all doped up on writing music over beats/rhythms,and recording. It seems, however, post adderall, I am unable to grasp the notion of rhythm to write anything that even resembles having a meter,or tempo, as well Ive noticed a substantial decrease in my ability to write overall, still the music/ lack of rhythm is of high concern. While on adderall I became a writaholic. Not only am I very concerned with my mental cognition, working memory, and writing abilities, but, I feel like I've lost my sense of overall rhythm, musically,and even at times when talking, I feel off-beat and out of balance so to speak.I feel like there is no rhythm in my step/stride. I'm terrified something may be extremely wrong as I have been clear and free of adderall for almost 2 months with no real improvements in these areas.I also tend to get hung up on my words and repeat myself more often. Help please and thank you for any feedback.

GodSpeed!

F.Wings

[finding freedom]

That must be so frustrating and a little frightening! For me it is opposite. I am so much more in tune with music and rhythm when I've been off of adderall. Hopefully it will turn around for you.

F.Wings

[quit-once]

jmac, I dug up your original post here from Oct 2011. You have been fighting this battle for quite a while now. I hope you can get it worked out soon.