Living in the Shadow of an Adderall Addiction
It seems that rather than need adderall, I require only motivation and sufficient will power to execute my goals. I have been relying on the substance as a crutch for a long time and while it is a blessed reprieve that helps me to conduct the business of my daily life, it is under no circumstances necessary for me to function. I refuse to operate under the assumption that my mind is so crippled that I need and crave that mineral (heehee) to function at peak performance. Yes, this line of thinking is circuitous and contradictory in some places, however, I am of unabashed opinion that I need to remain resolute that I was created by god or by design with a specific purpose. I was endowed with certain abilities of intellect that would suggest it is in my own best interest to persevere.
I cannot help but entertain the belief that maybe the reason that psychiatry has yet to “fix” me is that there is nothing yet there to fix. I suppose it is perfectly possible that there is nothing developmentally wrong with me and that I am a lazy person, an addict. It would explain my lack luster performance in academia and the workplace, but not necessarily my sadness and ambivalence for the regular minutia of everyday life. If I were an addict, I would have succumbed to a drink by now. With a c-note still in my bank account, I could easily go to the 7–11 a hairsbreath away from my residence and binge on something alcoholic in nature. I’m of a certain age, I could take to smoking cigarettes. And yet, again that’s not really what I want. A dulling of my senses serves no one, not my medical team, not my family, least of all my self. I worked for two decades to keep my body in the peak of physical health and I see no reason to depreciate it with substances that would not serve me or my faculties or my means. I suppose there is a pathological sort of self aggrandizing, a future me somewhere down the line who is happy and functional in everyday society. In all truth, there has to be in order for me to continue moving forward at a consistent pace.
My desire for my substance of choice, adderall is not, then a need…it’s a desire. I wish to make up for my lost time and my poor performance with a substance that is the purported holy grail of mental stimulants. Sure, coffee is helpful, but next to adderall it’s like driving a honda civic after your maserati has been repossessed because you failed to pay the car notes. It’s the equivalent of having the bat mobile for a brain with bicycle steering and flintstones era breaks. In case you didn’t know, the flintstones stopped their cars with their feet. I want adderall because without it my progress is going to be glacial at best and at worst subzero. I want it because I am obsessed with being better than average. I suppose that makes me a different sort of addict. An adrenaline junkie by a different name is still a rose, just as sweet; I’m afraid. Just because I look at alleys and street grade drugs with distain doesn’t make me any better than the crazy haired snaggle-tooth riding a crank high. I just have to grateful enough to know that I’m not any worse than the snuggle-tooth riding a crank high either. Many a man great and small has ruined himself much more fantastically than I have and had so much more to show for it. I should be modest in both my assurance of genius or mania and also too in my assurance of magnificent potentiality — provided I learn the right skills.
The comparison I’ll close with is water to juice. An addiction to me is something that you need to survive. In my mind, anything that you need with the same frequency as you need water is an addiction. For me, coffee would be considered an addiction. Adderall to me would be the intellectual equivalent of juice. Is it good for you? Eh, maybe, but there’s all that high fructose corn syrup and it kinda rots your teeth, bestowing the illusion of sustenance. Does it taste good going down? Hell yeah it does.