Tag Archives: Roggli

Three weeks without Adderall

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OK, it's been three weeks since my last Adderall and I am reporting on the effects (or lack of them).

For the first few days, I found myself on autopilot, reaching for the pill case that contained my little blue "energy pills." But I steeled myself against taking them and let the ride wind down. I thought after a week, I'd evaluate my energy and focus, then decide whether to resume my meds…or not.

Well, Tracy Ware, the psychiatrist who spoke at the Meetup group (http://www NULL.meetup NULL.com/Triangle-Adult-ADHD/)two days after I stopped taking Adderall, scared the beejeezus out of me – her warnings about neurotoxicity seemed to be based in science. And I don't want fewer Dopamine receptor sites – I want MORE. Now the jury is still out on the overall effects of amphetamines, but why tempt fate?

Tracy told me privately that the Adderall would stay in my system for at least a month. A MONTH? She said that the second week would likely be worse than the first week. Hmmm .. this sounded a lot like detox, right? I didn't think of myself as an addict. Not ever. This was prescription medication. And I took only a tiny amount (max 2-3 pills a day of short acting 10 mg brand name Adderall).

But sure enough, the second week, I was draggy and had a hard time staying alert. Mostly, I was sleepy.

I found that if I got enough sleep at night (or with naps during the day), I was OK. But if I stayed up too late, got up too early or shorted my required 8 hours of sleep in some other way, I was blah. Just blah.

Couldn't get things done. Couldn't get motivated. Couldn't get going.

But here's the strange thing: I have been living in a mess in my bonus room/guest room for two years now. I am not proud of it. I am terribly embarrassed by it. But it's true.

Last week (third week off Adderall), I got the darned room cleaned up. Granted, I had motivation (my kids were coming to spend the weekend with darling little Lilly). And I had help (Erica the super organizer (http://www NULL.getalifeinc NULL.net/) came on Thursday morning and Janine the super housekeeper cleaned the rest of the house).

But I've had help before.
I've had motivation before.
But this is the first time I actually DID something about it.

Not only did we get the room cleaned, I bought a new bed, new curtains, new lamps and redecorated the room with a new duvet cover, pillows, mirrors and ceiling fan before they arrived! (Yes I had someone install the fan and hang the mirrors – is that cheating? Nope).

Point is that I am still tired/sleepy, but I seem to be getting things done anyway.
I am clearer about what I want and need done.
And I am pretty happy about it.

Is this an aberration?
Is it related to the absent Adderall?

Not a clue, have I.

But we're gonna find out.
In 10 days, I am going to go back on Adderall and monitor myself closely to see how I feel, what I accomplish and how my loved ones respond to the difference (if there is a difference).

In the meantime, I am taking more naps, trying to get to bed on time (what IS on time anyway?) and working in my garden for the first time in months.

Does Ritalin make you smarter?

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Watch CBS News Videos Online (http://www NULL.cbsnews NULL.com)

 

Last night's broadcast of 60 Minutes (CBS) confirmed my worst nightmares: that ADHD meds will become so popular they will be treated as "brain candy" instead of as a medical necessity for people with brains like ours.

College students agreed that pill popping is rampant on campus, especially with  stimulants like Adderall and Ritalin. They take them to stay up late studying; they take them to finish papers; they take them to focus on tests.

Apparently the stimulants are prescribed for truck drivers who are on the road for hours; and even doctors who work double shifts. But hey, back in my college days, didn't we do the same thing? Except the drug of choice then was No-Doz, 200 mg of caffeine concentrated in little white pills.

I went online to see if NoDoz was still around. Yep, it's still sold and it's a lot cheaper than Adderall or Ritalin. College students said Ritalin was selling for $3-$5 per pill. A bottle of 60 NoDoz costs only $9 online. Free shipping, too..

My fear is not that college students will get hooked on Adderall. My fear is that Adderall and its ilk will become so commonplace that their legitimacy as treatment for ADHD will be diminished, dismissed or even discarded.

The non-ADHD students interviewed by Katie Couric said they could focus better, they could read fine details even about uninteresting information. That's sure not what they do for the ADHD brain. I have clients who take their ADHD meds faithfully but still can't keep their attention on the chapter or the math problem or the To Do list. The pills help us pay attention; but sometimes we veer off into worlds of focus that have nothing to do with the original task.

So, let's be clear here. Just because everybody can take stimulants and gain some focus, it doesn't mean that ADHD isn't a valid diagnosis. We're out here. We still need our meds. And even if we forget to take a few each month, we shouldn't be sharing them (and especially not selling them) to all of the rest of you out there.

I guess it makes the drug companies happy. I guess students are happy and perhaps their professors.

I'm not so happy.

“R” is for relationships

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Someone asked me recently how to get past the deep sense of failure we ADHD women feel when we contemplate trying again to — fill in the blank with whatever you like. We have "failed" so many times that the subject doesn't really matter.

What does matter is my answer: it was all about my husband, Victor. When I faltered in my attempts to start the ADDiva Network, it was Victor that gently, but honestly, reminded me that this was the work I was born to do.

He stood by me, reassuring me over and over (I need a big dose of encouragement) and eventually, I began to believe him. And eventually I began to succeed.

The news may seem dismal, if you're not in a steady relationship with someone you love, or worse, if your relationship isn't supportive of you and your ADHD. But it doesn't require a fabulous husband or partner to gain that confidence in yourself. It requires someone on the outside reflecting back to you just how miraculous you truly are.

You are, you know.

A miracle, that it.

The fact that you cared enough about YOURSELF to read this post (not to mention finding the ADDiva Network in the vast ocean of the internet) means that you haven't given up hope. And when you have hope, there is a tiny pinprick of light that you can hear, and eventually believe, the good news about YOU. Yes, you.

ADHD isn't a life sentence (although a lot of people will tell you so), it just is. And your past does NOT predict your future. Will you be linear and color inside the lines if you have someone supportive in your life? Nope. But you'll feel a lot better about coloring without any lines at ALL.

Victor is a miracle, too. He's survived cystic fibrosis for nearly 59 years. The doctors told his parents he wouldn't see 19, let alone 59. So I take my turn in supporting him (even though he doesn't need a lot of support; he's pretty self assured these days).

It take someone outside our ADHD bodies to see the goodness that lies within. It takes a husband or a friend or a mom or a cousin or a coach or a therapist. It takes someone who won't get tired of reminding you again and again that you are worthwhile until … until … you know it's true.

"R" is for relationships

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Someone asked me recently how to get past the deep sense of failure we ADHD women feel when we contemplate trying again to — fill in the blank with whatever you like. We have "failed" so many times that the subject doesn't really matter.

What does matter is my answer: it was all about my husband, Victor. When I faltered in my attempts to start the ADDiva Network, it was Victor that gently, but honestly, reminded me that this was the work I was born to do.

He stood by me, reassuring me over and over (I need a big dose of encouragement) and eventually, I began to believe him. And eventually I began to succeed.

The news may seem dismal, if you're not in a steady relationship with someone you love, or worse, if your relationship isn't supportive of you and your ADHD. But it doesn't require a fabulous husband or partner to gain that confidence in yourself. It requires someone on the outside reflecting back to you just how miraculous you truly are.

You are, you know.

A miracle, that it.

The fact that you cared enough about YOURSELF to read this post (not to mention finding the ADDiva Network in the vast ocean of the internet) means that you haven't given up hope. And when you have hope, there is a tiny pinprick of light that you can hear, and eventually believe, the good news about YOU. Yes, you.

ADHD isn't a life sentence (although a lot of people will tell you so), it just is. And your past does NOT predict your future. Will you be linear and color inside the lines if you have someone supportive in your life? Nope. But you'll feel a lot better about coloring without any lines at ALL.

Victor is a miracle, too. He's survived cystic fibrosis for nearly 59 years. The doctors told his parents he wouldn't see 19, let alone 59. So I take my turn in supporting him (even though he doesn't need a lot of support; he's pretty self assured these days).

It take someone outside our ADHD bodies to see the goodness that lies within. It takes a husband or a friend or a mom or a cousin or a coach or a therapist. It takes someone who won't get tired of reminding you again and again that you are worthwhile until … until … you know it's true.

ADD Butterflies

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This article first appeared in ADDitude Magazine online. (http://www NULL.additudemag NULL.com/adhdblogs/8/archive/200907 NULL.html)

On a recent Sunday afternoon, I received a call from one of my clients, a young woman in her early twenties who told me that her father had died of a massive heart attack the previous evening.

I was shocked. Although I had talked to her father only once – he interviewed me before he agreed to pay for ADD coaching – I knew he was a relatively young man, a college professor who was still teaching, edging toward retirement. And I knew he loved his daughter beyond measure, bolstering her efforts every day, in every way.

I immediately thought of my own dad, who has a long history of heart problems. So I picked up the phone, just to check in, to make sure he was OK. There was no answer, but I left a message, asking him to return my call.

Instead, when the phone rang the next day, it was my mother, telling me that my dad was in the hospital. He’d suffered a TIA – a low-level brain blip similar to a stroke. Again, I was shocked. My dad is older, in his 80s. He juggles the ailments of aging pretty well, so I’ve learned to be optimistic about his health. My client’s unexpected tragedy, however, reminded me of a poignant passage from my favorite poem by Mary Oliver: “Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?”

The words echoed in my mind as I monitored my dad’s recovery, as I attended the funeral of my client’s father, as I thought about my own place in the world, my own longevity. I know deeply (and forget regularly!) that I want to savor my life, to notice its millions of facets and flaws. I believe life is best experienced moment-to-moment, fully engaged and open to possibility.

Isn’t that a perfect job description for an ADD brain? It locks onto one of life’s fascinating topics, then skips over to another one and then another. We order the ‘sampling menu’ when we flit through life with an ADD brain – a little taste here, a nibble there. As long as we stay in the moment, we are truly living our lives to the hilt.

Sometimes, I admit, my ADD brain clogs with so much information. And sometimes I can get “into my head” with worry or planning or overwhelm. But when I quiet the mind chatter that comes from what I call the “ears up” self – the busy-busy brain, I find my center again. I pay attention to what is in front of me, in the present moment. And then the next.

That is truly all we have in this world. One moment; followed by another moment; and another moment after that. Until we are all out of moments. And our ADD brains stop flitting forever.thumbnailaspx

My ADD client grieves for her father, while appreciating his life. She will go on to create a life she loves, moment to moment. My father has recovered, and started the first day of the rest of his life with a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs.

I will try to stay fully present with my ADD brain; and remember the rest of Mary Oliver’s poem:

“Doesn’t everything die and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Do Dogs Really Need a Stroller?

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This article first appeared in ADDitude Magazine online. (http://www NULL.additudemag NULL.com/adhdblogs/8/archive/200907 NULL.html)

"Do dogs really need their own stroller?"

I mulled this question for several weeks before I finally plunked down my credit card on the dog stroller website and bought a few months (or years) of freedom for Cosmo, my 14-year-old Sheltie.

Like any living being that is the equivalent of 85 in human years, Cosmo has a few aches and pains: a bad back, arthritic shoulder, painful hips. He sleeps most of the day and night. But he still loves his walks. When I lace up my walking shoes, he perks up and trots out to the garage to be harnessed into his leash.

Cosmo, and his younger counterpart Boomer, launch our walks with great enthusiasm, nosing around mailboxes, checking out the latest deer tracks. But on the way home, Cosmo’s optimism is overshadowed by his physical ailments. He slows down, limping with each step.

A couple of times, I tried to carry him home, but 40 wiggly pounds gets heavy after a couple of blocks. I left him at home, which broke his heart. The stroller was my last hope, even though I was a bit embarrassed to order it –- after all, this is a DOG we’re talking about. (OK, I also cook for my dogs, but that’s another story.)roggli-dog-stroller1

That doggie stroller works beautifully, though. I push it empty on the first leg of our journey and when Cosmo tires, I lift him gently into the stroller and push it "with dog" the rest of the way.

That stroller reminds me that we ADD folks also need a little boost when we get tired halfway through doing the dishes or organizing our closets. Our initial optimism and enthusiasm can take a nosedive. Our brains poop out and our bodies follow suit.

Like Cosmo, we have a few aches and pains going on in our ADD brains. We need the equivalent of a doggie stroller to get us back on track. Choosing the right kind of boost is important.

Sometimes we simply need to take our next dose of ADHD medication. Sometimes it’s better to call our therapist or a good friend, or to make an appointment for a neurofeedback session. Like Cosmo’s doggie stroller, we need to tailor our support specifically to meet our ADHD needs.

And then we need to accept that assistance with grace and appreciation. None of this "no, no thanks, I can do it myself" kind of stuff. We know better. We won’t do it ourselves. We’ll stay off track. And then feel bad about ourselves. Again. Which makes it even harder to get back ON track. Sometime we never get back…

So just in case you’re waiting for it, here’s permission to ask for what you need. Hire an ADHD coach or a professional organizer. Join an ADHD support group — online or in person. Sign up for reminders from an appointments-online website. Whatever you need most, make it happen. Then, be grateful for the boost it gives you to make it all the way to DONE — the most beautiful word in the ADHD language!

The Buzzzzz About ADHD

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This article first appeared in ADDitude Magazine online. (http://www NULL.additudemag NULL.com/adhdblogs/8/archive/200907 NULL.html)

I’ve learned to accommodate my ADHD's quirks and demands. But when I start to ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist, even try to brush it off like a bit of fluff, my ADHD buzzes to life.

You know the axiom: “It takes a village to raise a child?” Well, “it takes a party” to get my house and yard clean on the same day!

Last night was the annual party for my husband’s lab students. We’ve hosted the event for five or six years, so I have the pre-party To Do list down to a science. Order the Mexican food. Make the sangria. Try to get in (and out of) the shower before the first guest arrives. (That hasn’t happened yet; don’t people know NOT to arrive on time at an ADD-driven event?)

The day after the party is like a holiday for me. I walk around in a state of semi-amazement that I (temporarily) live in a place that is picture perfect. There are no piles in the kitchen. The carpet has no stains. The pillows are fluffed and the dust settled.  At least for the moment.

Even the landscaping is flawless. This morning, still wearing my nightgown, I went outside to “survey my domain.” What a thrill it was to see a freshly mown lawn, mulched flowerbeds, blueberries ready to burst into luscious sweetness. Ah, life is good. So good. Perhaps it would stay like this forever…

My two faithful Shelties, Boomer and Cosmo, convinced me that no idyllic setting was complete without breakfast. So I meandered back to the kitchen and pulled out the dog bowls. I noticed a tickle on my shoulder, so I casually reached up to scratch it when a loud “Bzzzzzzzzzz” exploded near my right ear. In a nanosecond, I screamed, yanked my nightgown over my head and threw it to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” my husband asked, as he ran into the kitchen.

“There’s a bee in my nightgown!” I gasped. “Get it out of here!”

Victor (my hero) grabbed the nightgown (as I grabbed a robe), took it out to the deck and shook it to release the bee. The bee wouldn’t let go. The creature – a large bumblebee of some sort – hung on for dear life. Victor shook harder. Apparently, the bee adored my nightgown; it would not loosen its grip.

Finally, Victor managed to scrape the bee onto the patio table, where it fell on its back, spun around drunkenly and then righted itself. I pulled my nightgown back on, still shuddering that unknowingly I’d carried a bee on my shoulder for – how long? Ten minutes? Twenty? Fortunately, there was no sign of a bee sting.

By the time I calmed down, I realized that the episode was a perfect metaphor for my ADHD. Like the bee, beemy ADHD hitches a ride on my life. Most of the time, it glides along quietly; I’ve learned to accommodate its quirks and demands. But when I start to ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist, even try to brush it off like a bit of fluff, my ADHD buzzes its warning:

“You can’t get rid of me (bzzzzzzz!). I’m here forever (bzzzzzzz!). Work with me and it’ll be fine (bzzzzzzz!). Fight with me and you might get stung (bzzzzzzz!)."

Point well taken (if you’ll excuse the pun). I know better than to imagine that weeds will never grow again in my flowerbeds; weeds grow in everyone’s flowerbeds. And I know that I can’t dislodge my ADHD from its private perch. It’s tenacious. It likes me. It’s my lifelong companion.

So when the piles reappear on the island in my kitchen – as they most certainly will – I’ll be reminded of that stubborn bee and its warning: "I’m here. This is reality. Do what you have to do to take care of yourself. I’m not going away."

ADHD buzzes in my ear every day. I respect it. I take care of myself. And sometimes I weed the flowerbeds. Even the ones with bees…

The Name Game

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This article first appeared in ADDitude Magazine online. (http://www NULL.additudemag NULL.com/adhdblogs/8/archive/200907 NULL.html)

Maybe it’s my ADD, but I still feel like I AM a child! So how am I gonna be a grandma to a little girl who will expect grownups to act like, well, grownups?

I spent an hour online this morning, trying to find a nickname I can live with and I’m running out of time. Little Lilly Surratt will make her appearance any day now and I have no idea what to call myself.

It’s my first grandbaby and I’m having a little trouble coming to grips with the fact that:
a) I am actually old enough to be a grandma and
b) it’s happening whether I like it or not.

Most of my friends already wear the “grandma” crown. They tell me it’s wonderful, that they can’t imagine anything better. My neighbor can’t wait to cradle her first grandchild.

Maybe it’s my ADD, but I still feel like I AM a child! I like skipping and silliness and jumping on beds and turning somersaults. (You know, I haven’t done that for a while, I think I’ll turn one right now! OK, scratch somersaults off the list). But I do like strong sea breezes and fuzzy caterpillars. And I really like staying up past my bedtime. I do it a lot!

So how am I gonna be a grandma to a little girl who will expect grownups to act like, well, grownups? I don’t have to figure it out today, I suppose. Perhaps I don’t have to figure it out at all. Maybe I can be the whimsical, wacky grandma who builds tents out of blankets and has afternoon tea in her purple treehouse (oh yes, there IS a purple treehouse at GardenSpirit).

Oh my gosh! If ADD is genetic, as many researchers suspect, perhaps Lilly will be “one of us.” Our youngest ADDiva-in-training! This is exciting!

Perhaps Lilly and I will spend goofy mornings finger painting the fence and then take a nap in the hammock under the southern pines that tower over my house. We might take a walk in the Carolina sunshine and snuggle in for a batch of homemade blueberry scones.

As much as I hate labels, maybe I can stretch this Grandma thing to fit me – kind like my favorite jeans. I suspect it won’t really matter what she calls me in the end – Oma or La-La or Gi-Gi or even… gulp… Grandma.

Hey, we might need a new ADDiva category: GrandADDiva! OK, Lilly, I’ve got you covered! Come on out into the world, baby girl!

 

Memories on Memorial Day

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I am fortunate, I know.

None of my family or close friends have lost someone to a war, past or present.

And though I detest war as a means of settling disagreements (I’m not in favor of any kind of violence against our fellow beings, human or otherwise), my heart goes out to the parents, children, partners, relatives, friends of those killed in the line of duty.

As the ads for Memorial Day sales swirl around us, I notice that this somber day has devolved to shopping status. Another holiday gone commercial (see also: Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July – US holidays in general, actually). I admit it. Sometimes the entire day passes and I have forgotten to take even a brief moment to honor the veterans of all wars in all countries.

How ironic. Memorial Day was set aside to remember, yet I forget. I can’t blame this on ADD (I can’t blame anything on ADD for that matter).  I simply need an appointment, a ToDo, to remind me to remember.

So for the next 15 minutes, I will sit quietly, breathe, allow the spirits of those passed on to fill me with their wisdom, prick my sorrow at their absence and be grateful for their lives, however brief. I will broaden my focus to embrace others who have departed this earth – my dear friends and relatives whose lives played out in another era.

And I will humbly remember that life is a gift for which I can be grateful each and every day. My skin is still warm, my heart still pumps. But it won’t last forever. I will join the ranks of those we honor today. I only hope someone will notice I am gone and remember, with a smile.

Life is a pass-along gift. I need that reminder on Memorial Day. And every day thereafter.

 

 

 

Gardening as ADHD therapy

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Spring gardening is the perfect antidote for ADD women. Look at the possibilities:

1. There is always something new coming up  – sprouts, flowers, seed pods…

2. You can make a huge mess and nobody cares because you're SUPPOSED to get dirty when you garden (cool, huh?)

3. Planting is really satisfying – plopping those seeds in the ground and waiting a week or so to see the new life pop through (even cooler!)

4. It's an OUTDOOR event; research shows that people are happier when they are outdoors around green leafy things, like trees and plants.

5. It's good exercise; ADHD improves with exercise. Read John Ratey's book "Spark" and you'll see what I mean.

6. Most important of all, gardening is good for the soul. It literally GROUNDS you. Sinking your fingers into the damp earth reconnects you to the earth and that, in turn, reconnects you to YOU.

Even if you're not a gardener (yet) and  think you have a brown thumb, try planting a few petunias or radishes. You might be surprised at the results.

Then write and tell me all about it….I love hearing about your experiences!

Hugs,

Linda