What if this is as good as it gets?

ADHD medication, control + powerlessness

“Jenny, you learned to be successful. With ADHD, that did not come naturally. You learned all the skills that got you to where you are.”

The doctor prescribed 18 mg of non-stimulant Strattera to start. “Come back in a month and we’ll see how you’re doing.”

I closed my laptop and ended the virtual visit with my primary care provider. Someone with a medical degree officially diagnosed me with ADHD. I took a deep breath and sat inside the shock. I felt numb. I was given a story that made more sense by the day.

My stomach clenched as I called the pharmacy to find out when to pick up my medication. I hated this part. Now’s a good time to tell you that I intensely dislike any medication beyond ibuprofen and allergy pills. Why? My anxiety gets triggered when I think I won’t be in control of my body and how it feels. Three life events solidified this trauma pathway in my neurons.

• I passed out in a hospital when I was young while visiting a congregant with my dad. I saw someone’s scar after surgery and lost it. My nervous system remembers and works overtime to ensure that never ever happens again. Therapy has helped but the lingering effects remain.

• I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia when I was 17 so I navigate chronic pain most days and am intimately aware of challenging feelings in my body.

• I rushed my daughter to the emergency room as she experienced a terrifying allergic reaction to peanut butter when she was two years old.

Suffice to say, my nervous system hates feeling out of control. Putting something in my body that may have weird side effects, no matter how much they help? No, thank you.

So you can imagine when the doctor encouraged me to try medication for ADHD, I smiled and nodded, while internally feeling sick to my stomach.

Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

Could I give up control?

Do I want to? Would it be worth it?

My life hand-delivered an invitation to show up and pay attention. Yes, I’m afraid. But what if this pill from brilliant scientists could help me in a way I didn’t yet understand?

I spent a few days after the appointment reflecting on the stigma of medication. I’ve spent many years normalizing medication for mental health as part of a healing spiritual journey for other people. But I felt a bit ashamed that when it came to my body, old beliefs took over.

Beliefs that sounded like — If I work hard enough and do enough therapy, I can get to the bottom of any issue I have. And I can fix it. Just watch me. I’ll show you.

Well. There you go.

Sitting with the truth that I may need medicine to be my full brilliant self in this world forced me to unravel a few worn out limiting beliefs. Which I decided was worth it because I sensed a crucial shift was coming in my life. And it hinged on me taking this pill.

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What about you, my reader?

Is there something you’re trying to control lately?

A relationship.
A specific outcome.
A rhythm that’s usually worked.
An unknown health situation.
A frustrating situation at work.
A fear that you’re feeling stuck.
An uncertainty about aging.

What’s underneath the impulse to control?

My therapist often talks about how much our minds hate powerlessness. We talked about this a lot during the pandemic. Anger and fear work hard to cover up a sense of powerlessness.

Where do you feel powerless?

Yeah. Maybe it’s a thread to notice. To think about. To talk about.

What do we do with our powerlessness? Could it be an invitation to deeper acceptance of uncomfortable and painful realities? From a place of acceptance, we gain insight into the most true way to move forward.

I looked at the bottle of pills on my counter for a few days. I should start tomorrow. Or the day after that. Well, the kids are starting school. Let’s wait until after that.

I sensed I was on the brink of a massive shift in my life. I knew something was about to change. I imagined myself looking back on this week and being so grateful for what I was about to do the next day.

But also — I had serious doubts about this part of my new story.

I’m about to disrupt everything I know to be my normal.

That Sunday night, I tapped out this poem on my phone:

today’s the last day
there’s no adhd medication
dancing in my body

people tell me
life will get better
my brain will focus
my emotions will regulate

but what if
how it is
is as good
as it gets

am i ready
to release what’s been
so i can welcome
what may be?