Vyvanse for ADHD: Through One Young Woman’s Eyes.

I started taking the new medication for ADHD, Vyvanse. Here’s a partial look into my experience.

I see Clive’s body shriveling up, and I imagine him having HIV, and knowing it while he had sex with me. My eyes look beyond sad and hollow as I look in the mirror. I scream for help in the hotel room, but through my head, so know one heard.

Calm down Mea, I tell myself, just pack up and move across the country. Just run. So that’s what I did. I didn’t think in a few days I would have full-blown psychosis and drive a car into a swamp. Or I would then run around a boarded up neighborhood in a too small to call a town. I broke the windows to barred houses with a pin from the railroad, and then I placed them back into my back pocket for protection. I ran for my life across the state’s line. I was soon picked up, and after a lengthy medical examination in the smallest town in the country’s ER, I was sent to hospital over the state’s line.

Prior to my ‘psychosis,’ the taxi driver stops at the store for me; we’re on the way to the airport for departure. I purchase a coke. He tells me coke isn’t good for me. I know, I say to him, annoyed. He looks into the rearview window and I freeze– I swear it is Clive in disguise with big curly hair and droopy eyes.

At the airport I wait for the ticketing booth to open with 4 oversized suitcases in a 2 carts. I sit outside and re-read my journal. It dawns on me, I was killed 5 years ago, and this has all been a dream or a fantasy. But when did I really die, maybe longer than 5 years ago? How much has been a fantasy? Did I imagine relationships? No! I look to my journal for a clue and use a highlighter to draw a line down the pages. I read the words along the line, and put together my truth or truths from there. Odd source of information, I know.

I look up into the sky at the burning Casa Nova and I wonder what the stars mean to me. Then I see angels on the roof of the parking garage across the way. Are they telling me to jump? Where am I really going? I had a feeling I wasn’t going to end up where my family was; I thought I would be re-directed to where dead people go. I sat in anticipation, a bloody mess.

I arrived somewhere. A man on the plane prayed over me to ward off evil spirits. I called my parents, but no one was picking up. I wandered around and found myself hours later outside the airport on a hot day. I saw a license plate that read, ‘xover’ so I crossed over his suburban and walked past the empty police cars to the parking garage. I hear someone say to get to the other side you have to leave your baggage. I dropped all my suitcases and purse and began following them to the back corner of the garage. They got into a car and drove off. I picked up a burnt map with sticky note with directions and shoved it into my back pocket. I walked up a stairwell and picked up a lighter as I reached the next tier. There was also a dead bird.

I saw spirits in the cars, trapped. I tried to rescue a few, but the doors were locked. I saw the circumference of the mock universe I was in, but I couldn’t go yet, I had to save these souls. I followed *Hayden, who died years ago in a car accident, or I tried to find him. I lit my lighter to see which way the wind was blowing. I follow that direction as my lead to the answer.

I call on the security intercoms. The men tell me they can’t see me; their camera’s are broken. I walk out of the back of the parking garage along the grassy side of a road. I hear dead souls crying out to me. I arrive to a ‘yard’ of some sort. A black man who I think is Clive again in disguise tells me the guys I’m looking for don’t work for him.

Okay Clive, I say.

He looks at me strange. I begin looking at the tire marks in mud on the other side of the fence as he was on. I pick up a chew can and pieces of torn up clothes. I’m sure a murder occurred here.

How long you going to be Miss? The man who I think is Clive, asks me.

*             *              *

When I wander back into the airport my name is being called over the intercom. I find my way to airport police. We’ve called your father to pick you up, his number was in your wallet. Why were you bags scattered through out the airport’s parking garage? Where have you been? They ask me. I’m freaking out about them calling my father but I respond I don’t know why the bags were scattered. That was true…