The Breaking Point

The following article was submitted to The Pen by a Peninsula student who wishes to remain anonymous. It is not The Pen’s usual policy to grant requests for anonymity. However, because of the nature of the material in the submission, the editorial board has promised confidentiality to the student. All facts in the story have been verified by the editorial board. Additionally, minor grammatical edits were made.

The computer glare grew brighter against my window as the hours passed. The clacking of the keys pounded steadily. I didn’t know how long I’d been working. I finally noticed that my foot had been clenched in the same position the whole time, and that I’d been grinding my teeth again. My jaw shuddered out of soreness. My sudden awareness led me to believe it was starting to wear off. I was finally coming off the Vyvanse. My heart rate finally began its descent back to normal. I could finally feel like myself again. Lisdexamfetamine. What a scary word. Dextroamphetamine. Even scarier. These stimulants are more commonly known as Vyvanse and Adderall, respectively. They are also heavily abused in high schools and colleges across America. I’ve always been a straight-A student. Compared to some of my classmates, I don’t have parents who put me under an insane amount of pressure. I’m not in all AP classes, I have a fairly average load of extracurricular activities and I was always pretty content with my work ethic—I did my homework regularly, studied for tests when necessary, and looked for extra help in subjects I was struggling with. My sophomore year honors math class gave me my first curve ball. I teetered on the edge between an 89 and 90, knowing that I had to maintain my A in order to keep my near perfect GPA. I spent hours looking over the material on a nightly basis, foregoing other subjects in order to spend more time trying to understand the jumbling numbers. This is when John* stepped in. A close friend, he was always willing to lend an ear when I had a problem. I stayed up late one night texting him about my math worries, and he offered a solution for my upcoming final: he would give me some of his Adderall, the drug he took to cope with his ADHD. I deliberated his proposal for days, researching online, looking up different doses, reading about side effects and taking note of the serious danger involved with the drug. I came to the conclusion that I would try it—just this once—as a way to “test” myself. My first experience with Adderall was intense. My focus was incredible. I got through my math study guide seven different times, doing problems over and over again until I understood them perfectly. I even had time to study for my English final, memorizing lines from poems and their authors. I had this overwhelming sense of academic clarity, a sense I had never truly felt up to this point. The Adderall made me feel invincible. I was chatty and happy, jumping up to help with chores or engaging in absolutely riveting conversation. But then came the crash. At about the six-hour mark, the dubstep music didn’t sound as good. My eyes blurred at the sight of numbers. I still felt my heart pounding, only now it felt unnatural. I tuned in to my body, noting my sweaty palms and feet, my dry mouth, my creaky joints. I tried to fall asleep—it was almost twelve, and I had my final the next morning. This is where the real discomfort started. I lay awake in bed for hours, grabbing maybe sixty minutes of shut eye before my alarm sounded. I took the other pills John gave me, preparing myself for the long day ahead. My body was more well adjusted this time around, and I grew eerily calm and ready for my exams. Unaffected by the restless night before, I floated through the day in my Adderall induced state. It took me three days to finally feel like “myself” again. And my level of concentration during those three days hit an all time low. I was like a zombie—not fully there or functioning. At the time, I figured it was the price I was paying for my choices. That was almost two years ago. Since then, I’ve looked to Vyvanse and Adderall on multiple occasions to get me through schoolwork. I grew to prefer Vyvanse, using it for the SAT or a random junior year weekend pile of homework. Whenever I was on it, I plowed through all my schoolwork, leaving no assignment behind. I processed things at light speed, writing out terms over and over again, memorizing people, dates and facts. Vyvanse became the back door crutch I used when schoolwork spiraled out of control. If I couldn’t keep a handle on my life, at least I could stay captain of my “homework ship.” While I take full responsibility for my actions, my prescription drug abuse stemmed from pressure. In addition to the amount of pressure I put on myself, being in an environment like Peninsula’s did little to solve my insecurities. I always wanted to be better—and being lined up next to such stellar students pushed me to the extreme. It’s so easy to talk about stress and pressure and ways to solve them, but in reality things won’t change unless universities change their admission standards. I truly reached my breaking point. For a while, I really believed that Adderall and Vyvanse helped bring me to that finish line. About a year ago, I admitted to my illicit substance abuse in therapy—professional counseling then helped me to regain my trust in myself. There have been slip-ups. College essay, school term paper and big poster due on one Monday? But ultimately, I know I’m better without the drugs. I didn’t send in my SAT score from when I was on Vyvanse. I didn’t send in all the essays I wrote when I popped the Addy. And I’ve grown to appreciate my work ethic that these stimulants made me question. I’m so thankful for the counseling I received. I wonder if things would have turned out differently had I not come to my senses. The New York Times recently published an article detailing one student’s experience with Adderall addiction. He ended up killing himself after his abuse spiraled out of control. It’s reading about instances like this that truly showcase the harmful side effects to these drugs. They seem like short-term solutions; but in reality, they create long-term problems. I wish I could tell you to ignore the pressure, to be happy with your intelligence, to be okay with getting into a second rate school. With the current climate of both our school and our country, I don’t think that will have much effect. I do advise you to talk to people—friends, family, school counselors—and realize how loved you are, and how putting yourself in danger all for a grade isn’t worth it. Vyvanse and Adderall took away my sense of self. They put me on a high that wasn’t me. And I won’t let an orange or blue pill take something that important from me.     *Names have been changed.