This journal entry contains sensitive reading material that may not be suitable to all readers. Topics include Drug use, Self-Harm, Suicide, and some foul language. This entry will be broken into three parts, as this is not the easiest for me to let out in the open.
– Part 2 of 3 –
That stomach dropping feeling, although present made itself known after reading that I in fact almost succeeded in ending it all. Extreme shame followed immediately, and I was terrified of who I called, what I said, how I said it, and what would happen next. The logical thing would be to tell my psychiatrist, but I didnt for fear that I would be forcibly committed to a psych evaluation. With time, I was able to convince myself that it wasn’t a big deal. I had the mindset that I wouldn’t kill myself, but I would welcome death if it were to find me. I went as far as putting a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) card in my wallet. I just didn’t care what happened to me. The only thing I really cared about was my adderall. Without the adderall, my mind ran anyway it desired. I had no control of the thoughts that would find a way to take precedent over anything I consciously had in mind.
Although the adderall had lost most of its potency on me, I was still taking it out of habit. It had convinced me I couldn’t function without it. Adderall was my safety net. Adderall would take the bad thoughts away, not allowing me to grieve and process anything traumatic as they should. I was essentially a wall most of the day who would go through manic stages of euphoria to deepened states of depression all within minutes. Adderall had allowed me to push back anything I didn’t want to deal with for over eleven years. Unaware of the consequences that had been present, but was too blind to notice. The anguish of all that transpired not just on the 7th of January, but the past two years had built a foundation destined for failure. I was no longer myself and everyone could see it, excluding me.
In my experience, I would typically begin adderall withdrawals anywhere from 3-4 days after last use. I would periodically try weaning myself off to limit my usage, and to eventually be free from it all together. I was never successful, and always found myself running short a few days before my next refill. I had expressed interest to my psychiatrist that I would like to eventually stop taking the medicine as I didn’t like the control it had over me. The first time I had mentioned this to my Doctor was in early 2020. I had gone through a pretty tough breakup a few months before, and I didnt like how the adderall would block out the feelings of grief. The grief and pain were only getting stronger the more I was pushing back. The doctor told me that she didn’t believe it would be best for me to stop taking it with so much change going on. I planned anything and everything I did around my adderall and thought this would never change. I personally didn’t have the will to stop.
The mind is so complex and powerful. If something needs to get out, it will. The trauma of life, work, and heartbreak was never able to properly run its course. Any cracks in the wall I had put up were getting bigger from the enormous amounts of pressure behind it. Anytime I had a drink, those feelings found a way to move towards the exit. Creating an emotional avalanche that was nearly impossible to stop. I couldn’t enjoy social gathering, because I knew and felt I no longer had control of my emotions. Despite being aware of all this, I still continued to choose adderall over my quality of life.
There is a bright side to this story, and I promise this whole entry isn’t all negative. This story does have a happy conclusion. I wont say ending, but as cheesy and cliche as it does sound…my story is still being written. Part 3 of 3 will be available on July 1st, 2022