So, if I don’t take my ADD medicine for awhile, or if I’m not able to manage it by other methods (see: arranging your environment), then I slowly twirl off into a delightful brand of my own psychosis which has sort of a pink-tutu-and-peanut-butter-cookies feel to it.
I can remain in this blissful state indefinitely, I’m fairly sure. However it’s never actually lasted more than two months, because that’s when I come home to no electricity, gas, or water, and a rather nasty message from the mortgage company. So I yank off my tutu in a huff, reluctantly shove the cookies back into the pantry, and get back to the business of being a grown up.
Fortunately, over the years, I’ve learned how to stop myself before I reach Supersonic Mach 5 Tutu/Cookie – and sort of waylay my inner ADD kid back into some semblance of adulthood. Mostly.
Phase 1: Accept that I might be reaching for my tutu when I should be returning customer calls and counting out the mortgage money.
Phase 2: Immediately determine the last time I can remember taking my ADD medicine, and write it down. Approach “the calendar that never moves” in the kitchen and count the days. If it’s more than 14, call for back up.
Phase 3: Assess the damage. Am I out of clean clothes? Are there more dishes in the sink than in the cabinets? Do I know where the monthly bills are? Are the dogs missing? Am I dressed? Am I moving at a rate of less than 1 accomplishment per hour? ~ If I answer yes to more than 2 of these questions, call for back up.
Phase 4: Find the ADD medicine and see if there’s any left in the bottle? If yes, TAKE THEM. If no? Then, call the pharmacy. Ask how long my medicine’s been sitting on the shelf. (This is also helpful if I can’t remember the last time I took it). Pick the damn meds up and TAKE THEM.
Phase 5: For 5-7 days, casually work into all conversations that I am having a severe ADD episode, and that I do not intend to offend should I do any of the following: (1) Interrupt your conversation several times with irrelevant facts and trivia (2) Take my shoes off and bounce up and down while you’re talking to me (3) Remember something that I lost and walk off while you’re talking to me (4) Spontaneously reach for items, and/ or food that do not belong to me (5) Start dancing and asking questions about science OR general theory of all sorts
Example of how this progresses in real time? Well my friends, hold onto your pants.
Friday: I woke up at 8:00am. I had a cup of coffee, jumped in the shower, got dressed and let the dogs out. I glanced at the clock on my way out the door. It was….wait a minute… 10:53am??? Well SHIT.
- Phase 1: Look down. Am I wearing my tutu?? No. Is it in my purse?? No. Other signs of dischord?? Yes. A giant floppy Audrey Hepburn hat and golden Elvis sunglasses are not work appropriate. Pause and reassess choices.
- Phase 2: When was the last time I took my ADD medicine????? Oh. OHHHH NOOOOO. CALENDAR!! Oh shit shit shit shit shit. It was before I got the stomach virus. WEDNESDAY. 10 DAYS AGO. I am so screwed.
- Jump to Phase 4 (Because I was THREE AND A HALF HOURS LATE FOR WORK): Found half a tab in the bottom of my bottle. Took it and and got in the damn car. Jeez.
Saturday: Forgot that I cared about being ADD’d out of my mind, and took my tutu and peanut butter cookies out for a night on the town.
Sunday:Forgot that I cared about being ADD’d out of my mind because my Delm-0
(y’all know Delma) was in the hospital with a jacked up back (they gave her Valium so she’s having a strong urge to karaoke and tell people she’s Wiccan) – so I hung with her in the ER for a few hours while we verbally bashed Kristen Stewart and noshed on Taco Bueno. Good times.
Monday: Woke at 7:00am and walked into the living room. 7:15am – still standing around in the living room, now playing with cat. SHIT!! Sigh.
- Phase 3: Assess the damage. Am I out of clean clothes? NOPE. Are there more dishes in the sink than in the cabinets? YEP. Do I know where the monthly bills are? They haven’t come yet!! Nice!! Are the dogs missing? NOPE. Am I dressed? I am wearing PJ’s so I am counting this as a pass. Am I moving at a rate of less than 1 accomplishment per hour? YEP. ~ If I answer yes to more than 2 of these questions, call for back up. ~ HA!! Right at two yesses!! Moving on to Phase 4 people!!
- Phase 4: I found my purse, with my ADD meds, but then got distracted and got in the shower instead. Then got dressed. Then played with the dogs, cleaned the cat box, and did a load of laundry. Still no meds, but I did leave for work. I got distracted on the way to work and went to get coffee. Got back on the road to work. UGH. Arrive at work, and in the midst of telling Dad about how ADD I’ve been, I remember about the meds, and stop and take them. And a multi-vitamin for good measure, cuz I kinda feel like they provide an octane boost
- Phase 4.2: Ask Dad to remind me to get my medicine from the pharmacy on the way home. As I’m asking him this, I remember that I submitted that prescription a month ago. I think. Close to a month? Something. So I’d better call. So I ask Dad for a 4:30 reminder on my way home, and then another reminder tomorrow morning, just in case I forget on the way home. Which happens ALOT.
- Phase 4.3:Call the pharmacy….
Me: Hi, this is Jamie and quite some time ago I turned in a prescription for a medication and it’s 2mg and I can’t remember the name of it, which is kinda funny ’cause it’s for ADD and just let me dig for it because I have the bottle and while I’m doing that I’ll tell you the rest of my story (breathe) see I turned in the scrip and sorta forgot about it because I had samples and I got a little distracted and I just remembered to take it and I only have half a pill left and you’ve probably already put it back on the shelf but is there any way I could pick it up today or tomorrow? INTUNIV!! IT’S CALLED INTUNIV!!
- Pharmacy Tech: (when she stopped doing a side laugh with her hand over the phone) Ummmm….ma’am?? Could I maybe just have your date of birth? (I give) Okay, actually it looks like it’s still on the shelf so you can come pick it up anytime before 8pm.
- Me: WHAT THE WHAT!?! You guys are AWESOME!! And also, just as fair warning, I forget my meds all the time, so I’ll probably be doing this to you again.
- Pharmacy Tech: No problem hunny, I’ll make a note in your file.
I LURVE LURVEY LURVE MY PHARMACY!! And did you notice how smoothly I worked in Phase 5?? And how pleasantly she responded to my considerate advanced notice of potential future offenses?? She’s good people. And I have a NOTE. Joy.
OH!! AND I got to sign my receipt with a pen with a spoon taped to it that someone had drawn a picture of a sunflower onto. I told the pharmacy girl that next time I was scheduling myself to sign my receipt with the rocket-ship spoon pen. And she said she drew that one!! She was obviously pleased with me choosing her spoon pen for my dance card. AND she informed me that she also does a great castle. I told her I can do a bear, a duck, and that I am a champion with clouds. She felt we should collaborate on floating castle and I agreed wholeheartedly. Which is when the pharmacist piped up and said she can knock out a mean Christmas tree. You just can’t beat that kind of service y’all. I’d like to see you try.
I’m still in my tutu, and I’ve got a stack of cookies here on the desk, but alas in 5-7 days I’ll be all grown up again. Although, Tutu Jamie might leave a peanut butter cookie for Grown Up Jamie ~ just in case she starts to feel a little bogged down by responsibility.