| Also don't forget that drugs have changed the life to the better for so many on the ADHD spectrum. Though drugs are only part of the solution for most people with ADHD, it's almost always what enables other kinds of intervention to be effective. For me, medication doesn't work too well. I tolerate it just fine, but it just isn't as effective as for most people. It has still changed my life completely. I can accrue life experience in a way that was impossible before, probably as I had basically no perception of time before medication. Maybe my daughter put it best when she (on her own volition) got diagnosed at 17'ish: "It great to not have to feel like you are going to die tomorrow." With which she meant that when you perceive time passing, you can also perceive the future ahead. It's not the only thing that changed, and not all change has been easy. But the diagnosis has still been one of the most important things in my life, even getting it as late as at 36 years. |
Anecdote: I'm one of those who tried behavioral approaches for years before agreeing to try medication. I bounced back and forth between different types and doses and ended up on small, regular doses of adderall because I could have some control over when it tapers off. I'm disheartened by the smugness of commentary here from people who see nothing but stimulant abuse.
To give a solid example of why it can sometimes be seen as giving you superpowers, consider my experience: I have three degrees. I was in graduate school for...far too long. Anthropology isn't a quick in and out. I could wrap my head around anything, but sitting and writing multiple drafts of 50-100 page papers regularly was unimaginably difficult. I loved writing, and I wasn't sure why it was so challenging for me. Several years ago, I had the "opportunity" to write an NSF grant with (read: for) a pretty famous researcher. The downside is that when I was asked to write it, I was told the deadline was in four days. I spent some time setting up a perfect writing environment with no distractions, comfortable lighting, and everything I could think of, but when I was working, I could almost physically feel my brain constantly switching to some other track. It was deeply upsetting. The following year, I finally gave in to my doctor's medication recommendation. When I first sat down to read an article in a journal while medicated, the only thing I could hear in my head while reading was my own voice reading the words on the page. It actually brought me to tears because I realized that was probably what everyone else was able to experience normally. The glasses analogy everyone is using? Yeah, it's a bit like that, but imagine being in your 30s not even knowing that you can't see properly until someone put glasses on you. It changes your entire perception of the world and your place in it. It makes small things seem like superpowers. Like you finally have the ability to do all the things you're expected to do as a productive member of society. It's liberating. At the same time, all I can think about is how much more I might have been able to achieve if people had considered putting me in some sort of treatment as a kid rather than telling me that I wasn't working hard enough and making fun of other kids with ADHD.