As a part of getting a prescription for Celexa, I visited my psychiatrist who asked all the normal questions (and he also shared about his Asian ex-girlfriend whose hair he liked to comb 100 times before bed. And how he was a virgin until his first marriage and how that was the worst mistake ever. Yeah, he is a blunt TMI-er but I really like him). I told him that I had been feeling like I had a hard time focusing on my research, and how it was hard for me to just make myself do it. What followed surprised me — he immediately suggested that I take some Adderall. Now, not for a moment did I believe that I had ADHD and I expressed this to him. I don’t have problem focusing on tasks, but it’s usually when my back is against the wall and I really have to work. Nor do I have trouble sitting through a whole movie, or any of the other examples that he gave me.
However, being human and fallible to temptation, I decided to go for it. He told me that he had helped very many students get their higher education degrees. And although I felt like it would be cheating, another part of me was excited about the prospect of getting on a pill that would not only make you concentrate, but could also make you a “comma, PhD”. while it was at it.
I first tried it on a day when I was (not) working from home. I have to say that it was exactly what I imagine being high would feel like. I sent out bajillions of e-mails (with gross misspellings), talked to my sisters, talked to my fiance, left accelerated ditzy voice messages to unsuspecting people and could not stop moving round in my seat. And it also helped me focus … on surfing the internet. No work was done that morning.
The second time I tried it I went into the office, and again I spent all my time surfing the web, but very decidedly so. The third time, I cut the dose in half because it obviously affected me too much — and honestly, it didn’t help.
As much as I wanted it to be my miracle pill, it wasn’t. I ended up focusing on all the wrong things, not even useful ones such as cleaning out the pigsty that is my closet or twirling around in the snow. I guess it’s back to blood, sweat, tears, and good old-fashioned procrastination followed by a desperate last minute flurry of activity.
