BlackShanglan
Silver-Tongued Papist
- Joined
- Jul 7, 2004
- Posts
- 16,888
How funny is that? Sometimes things like this are easier to admit to a large forum of strangers than to those one is closest to.
I am taking a medication - Adderall to be specific. It may hopefully aid me with some problems of concentration and focus that have be a source of considerable unhappiness and conflict in my life.
This is my first day on the medication. My first hour to be precise.
It's difficult to describe the mixture of apprehension, anxiety, and lingering hope with which I've resorted to the stuff, or the peculiar sensations I feel having taken it. (And of course, it's difficult to say whether I'm reacting to the medication or to my own considerable nervousness about it.) There's nothing really worrisome going on at the moment, certainly nothing that isn't probably just me hyper-analyzing my every breath.
It's just a little frightening taking something that is meant to change the way you think. It's hard to avoid the implication that I am in some way changing what I actually am. I'm a strange sort of horse; since childhood I have always loved fairy tales about people who turn into bears or lions or dragons or horses, and I've never understood why they wanted to turn back again. Yet I have a very deep streak of resistance to changing what I am. I've been offered (for a problem that concerned me in childhood) plastic surgery gratis from the concerned parents; my father worked in a hospital and knew a very good man for it. I turned it down, even at fifteen - not because I didn't think it might look better, but because it was my body, and I did not choose to have it altered to be something else.
Now I've given Shire Pharmacuetical the keys to my brain.
The old fairy tale change I think struck me as a change from the inside out. My body would be wild and exciting and wonderful, just like I felt my spirit to be. But changing from the outside in worries me. I don't like the idea of changing my body while my mind and spirit remain the same. I think part of me is afraid that what is outside will begin to affect what is inside. Perhaps I really have absorbed that old notion that the body is merely the outward mask of the mind, and that what I look like is a sign of who I am within. In many ways I think it's true of me, and so the notion of plastic surgery repulses me in a very deep-seated, almost moral and spiritual sense. But now I'm monkeying about with what is on the inside. I feel like Dorian Gray retouching his portrait. I don't know what it will lead to, or what sort of person it will make me.
Forgive me the rambling. But where can one ramble with less heed and less worry of offense than an Internet bulletin board? And yet, too, where else have I met more people who seemed like they might understand this?
Or if nothing else, take this as apology if I say or do odd things today. My mind is scattered in more than pharmacological fashions.
And deepest love and affection to my fedaain, who understood - as I knew he would - immediately and totally. You really are a wonder.
Shanglan
I am taking a medication - Adderall to be specific. It may hopefully aid me with some problems of concentration and focus that have be a source of considerable unhappiness and conflict in my life.
This is my first day on the medication. My first hour to be precise.
It's difficult to describe the mixture of apprehension, anxiety, and lingering hope with which I've resorted to the stuff, or the peculiar sensations I feel having taken it. (And of course, it's difficult to say whether I'm reacting to the medication or to my own considerable nervousness about it.) There's nothing really worrisome going on at the moment, certainly nothing that isn't probably just me hyper-analyzing my every breath.
It's just a little frightening taking something that is meant to change the way you think. It's hard to avoid the implication that I am in some way changing what I actually am. I'm a strange sort of horse; since childhood I have always loved fairy tales about people who turn into bears or lions or dragons or horses, and I've never understood why they wanted to turn back again. Yet I have a very deep streak of resistance to changing what I am. I've been offered (for a problem that concerned me in childhood) plastic surgery gratis from the concerned parents; my father worked in a hospital and knew a very good man for it. I turned it down, even at fifteen - not because I didn't think it might look better, but because it was my body, and I did not choose to have it altered to be something else.
Now I've given Shire Pharmacuetical the keys to my brain.
The old fairy tale change I think struck me as a change from the inside out. My body would be wild and exciting and wonderful, just like I felt my spirit to be. But changing from the outside in worries me. I don't like the idea of changing my body while my mind and spirit remain the same. I think part of me is afraid that what is outside will begin to affect what is inside. Perhaps I really have absorbed that old notion that the body is merely the outward mask of the mind, and that what I look like is a sign of who I am within. In many ways I think it's true of me, and so the notion of plastic surgery repulses me in a very deep-seated, almost moral and spiritual sense. But now I'm monkeying about with what is on the inside. I feel like Dorian Gray retouching his portrait. I don't know what it will lead to, or what sort of person it will make me.
Forgive me the rambling. But where can one ramble with less heed and less worry of offense than an Internet bulletin board? And yet, too, where else have I met more people who seemed like they might understand this?
Or if nothing else, take this as apology if I say or do odd things today. My mind is scattered in more than pharmacological fashions.
And deepest love and affection to my fedaain, who understood - as I knew he would - immediately and totally. You really are a wonder.
Shanglan
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