The promise of structure and planning disappeared this week, as I moved back to the suburbs and the father, stepmother, and sister. Since returning home from the trip to Florida, I have felt like a man without a country.
For some time now (since the health benefits ended), I haven't had Adderall. The difference I see without ADHD medication is that I tend to flounder more. The progress I've made in reducing the symptoms of adult attention deficit hyperactivity disorder—inability to focus, the constant lateness, the absence of follow through, say—appear to be backsliding.
For instance, yesterday evening I went through great pains to sit through a two-hour committee meeting for a non-profit, and, in the end, could not do it. I fidgeted, started text messaging, and scribbled a to-do list on the edge of a legal pad.
The thoughts scattered from one to the next: the film that a date was taking me to later that night, the boxes of my life that I would need to unpack. I stifled a yawn and had a sudden urge to pick up and leave. I was getting bored.
It is like that with the job search too. Despite joining a job-search group, the Laid Off Society of America, despite the support of friends and family—despite all the self-help books in the world and all the positive words of Joel Olsteen and the Chicken Soup series—I am unable to devise a plan and see it through.
At 33, the vision of a life of stability and bliss is anything but.
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