Adderall, Panic, and Car Accident Stew

I’m not going to start off this post by commenting on how I still can’t be assed to post on my blog more often.  I’ve talked about that enough already.  I’m also going to avoid speaking about college for 5 paragraphs, since I’m guilty of doing that as well.  Several times over.

No, I’m going to start off by actually explaining WHY I barely ever post.  I figured it out, and here it is:

Adderall.

This bitter little orange pill actually makes me want to post.  See, Adderall is prescribed to patients who “suffer” from ADHD to help them focus on the important stuff, like school, work, schoolwork, workwork, and schoolschoolworkschool.  Or at least it’s supposed to.  For me, however, it makes me focus on UNimportant stuff (see: “my blog”).  I was prescribed Adderall to help me stop procrastinating on schoolwork, but it actually might be making the situation worse.  It’s a magical drug that turns the loud, spastic Adam into the quiet, intellectual Adam that thinks at 500 concepts per minute and sits at his desk, biting his nails and twirling his hair.  And on this subject, here’s a fun fact: Every post on my blog was written while under the influence of Adderall.  All I need is one pill and some free time at school and I’m ready to type.

The problem with Adderall, though, is that it’s a personality-changer.  A lot more people enjoy my presence when I don’t take one than when I do take one, and on top of that, it destroys my appetite.  I barely eat while on Adderall, which may or may not be a good thing.  Either way, I prefer not taking Adderall when I don’t think I need to, and therefore, I don’t take it that often.  Thus, my blog is left to collect e-dust while I scarf down entire bags of chips and play video games.

However, there is one side effect that I find incredibly beneficial.  I have quite a few mental illnesses, anxiety being one of the big ones, but lately I’ve developed a panic disorder that rules over my life with an iron fist.  An iron fist that punches me so hard in the stomach that I feel like I have to puke.  I started getting full-on panic attacks just a few months ago in November.  I was driving my friend home from the airport when Mapquest royally fucked me in the tailpipe and gave me a direction that didn’t even exist.  Now, I don’t drive on expressways because they scare the shit out of me, so I had the directions made up without any expressways.  However, the only way out of the airport, apparently, is to take the expressway straight to where you need to be, even though you can get to the airport without any expressways.  Long story short, I ended up in downtown Rochester, parked next to a church at the corner of Getoutofthecar Avenue and Givemeallyourmoney Boulevard, breathing heavily and frantically calling my parents to come direct me home.

There’s a chemical in Adderall that actually stops these panic attacks from happening, but again, I only take Adderall when I think I need to, and how was I supposed to know I’d end up stranded in one of the scariest parts of Rochester?

I’ll share another panicky experience with you now.  I drove out to Webster to spend the night at my friend Jared’s house a couple of weeks ago.  Normally, the winter weather in Rochester leaves the roads caked with ice and snow and other slippery stuff, but when I drove over there, the roads were salted and dried, so I had nothing to worry about.  However, the next day, Jared and I tagged along with his mother and sister over to Target.  When we got there, the sun was shining and there was absolutely no clouds in the sky, so I knew I had nothing to worry about.

Apparently, one hour of shopping is all it took for a fucking BLIZZARD to roll in, coat every road with a thick, slippery layer of snow, and lower visibility to the point where you couldn’t even see more than 5 feet in front of your car.

Now, my drive home from Jared’s house takes about a half hour in good weather and is made up of a system of nice, quiet back roads.  But when the expressways are backed up from bad weather, where do you think those cars go?  The same goddamn route I take home, that’s where they go.  So not only could I not see more than 5 feet in front of my car, which would be slipping and sliding all the way home, but there would also be plenty of other cars for me to glide straight into.

I was obviously worried.

This panic attack was so bad that I actually ended up having to completely disrespect Jared’s toilet by vomiting up everything that I had eaten so far that day, which was a vile combination of a mocha frappuccino, a double cheeseburger from Five Guys, and guava juice.

You’re welcome. c:

I was left with no other option but to call my dad to come drive me home and leave my car at Jared’s house to be picked up the next day by my sister.  On the way home, I sat in the fetal position in the passenger seat while my dad tried reasoning with my panic disorder, saying things like “The roads aren’t that bad,” and “You’ve driven in the snow before.”  None of it really helped, though, as I clutched the seat and braced for impact every time he made a turn.

Here’s where the story gets interesting.  We were pretty close to finally returning home when my mom called my dad’s cell phone.  My dad’s car has a Bluetooth setup where if someone calls his cell phone, all he needs to do is push a button on the radio and start talking.  The person on the other end can be heard through the speakers in the car, so I could hear the entire conversation.  It went a little something like this…

Mom: “Hey, did you pick up Adam yet?”

Dad: “Yeah, he’s right here.  We’re on our way home.”

Mom: “Okay.  Where are you right now?”

Dad: “We just turned at the four corners of Penfield.”

Mom: “Oh, okay, so you’re pretty close.”

Dad: “I’m not stopping.”

Mom: “…I wasn’t going to ask you to stop anywhere.”

Dad: “I’m not stopping!”

Mom: “What are you talking about?”

What was happening was my dad’s car was going downhill, heading towards a stoplight with a line of cars in front of him, and his tires had lost traction with the road due to the snow.  We glided straight into the back of the car in front of us.

Luckily, no real damage was done to either car, so there was no reason to call the police for a report.  After talking to the guy for a minute or two, my dad hopped back into the car and drove us home.

Now, I’d like you to think back to what he was telling me earlier.  ”The roads aren’t that bad.”  Yet my father, one of the greatest drivers I’ve ever known, managed to get into an accident.  So, alongside my fear of driving in bad weather (which had just been reassured), I now had to deal with the fact that my dad had attempted to deceive me into feeling better, and thus, everything he says to comfort me from now on will be considered a LIE and will be disregarded immediately.

Needless to say, I can’t wait for Spring to come and melt away the snow and ice so that I can drive again without as many things to worry about.

So please, drive safely out there.  Go a little slower than normal and use the proper amount of caution in your actions on the road.  It’ll make people like me feel a lot safer and more willing to leave the house.