Dear Pharmaceutically- or Otherwise-Alternate-Substance-Super-Charged Friends:
If you know me and my history, you know that I teeter in the middle of a lot. If you think you know me and you don't know my history, you often think I'm way on left side of that middle, and you're sometimes shocked to find otherwise on occasion. So this is fair warning that one of the filters through which you'll perceive this piece is how well you really know me.
The topic at hand is one about which I tend toward the shocking middle. (That's right: I shock people because I'm in the middle. Must be the hair. Go figure.)
My 12-year-old's on drugs.
Now, let me just apologize right here to him for outing him. Actually, he doesn't seem to mind talking about it openly; sort of like he used to be about his "miracle foot" (a long story that a lot of you don't know) before the approval of his peers was tantamount to his pleasant existence. See, now those very peers are "cool with" his "issue" or "condition" or "diagnosis"... or maybe it's just drugs. So, sorry kiddo, for chatting online about you being on drugs, but you know me: I love you more than my own life.
So on to the story. About my kid on drugs. They're prescribed by his lifelong pediatrician for his new diagnosis of ADHD Inattentive type.
Those closest to me know the emotional struggles I went through to arrive at this point, that being a Mom With A Kid On Drugs. For those who were fortunate enough to not witness it, I'll cut to the chase and say it was one of the most wrenching brain-fucks I've ever put myself through, and this from a woman who's been BF'd an awful lot.
So here we are. And after a month or so of drugs, the end result is that my kid -- who was beating himself up severely in his first year of public school ('what?!' you're saying. 'he's 12!' yeah: private school and homeschool after that) for being a slug at math (like his Mama) -- has achieved a final 6th grade report full of A's and B's.
We're all ecstatic.
And of course, there was that little Middle Way voice in my head that said, 'There's always another side.'
In this case, in my opinion, and just trust me, it's an experienced one, the "other side" of this Happy Drugged Ending is this: the strong likelihood that my kid will derive Drugs = Success from this life episode.
Yes, you're wondering why I addressed my Super-Charged Friends at the top of this, aren't you?
I love you people, really, I do. And some of you know what I'm going to say. And lots of you really don't care. But it's my blog so I'll whine if I want to.
Every time I hear "adult" friends of mine chirp about how this chemical or that plant has made their life better in any way, I think of my kid. Every time.
Every time I hear someone say that they purposefully ingested or otherwise took into their body something with the express intention of producing a particular sensation, frame of mind, or other experience, I think of my kid.
And in my opinion, so should you.
(This is me, wagging my finger.)While you *could* think of *my* kid, what I'm suggesting instead is that you think of either (a) your own kid/s or (b) yourself as a kid.
Remember all That Crap People Told You about how you can Be Anyone You Want and Do Anything You Want?
Is it really crap? Were they out to shut you up at the moment, make you feel hopeful in spite of the unreality, or did they sincerely see in you the seeds of any and every thing -- even if they had given up on nurturing those seeds in themselves?
Imagine sitting my kid down and telling him this instead:
You have abilities. You have propensities. You have challenges. You have within you some of what you need. And the rest, you can get by adding chemicals to your body.
G'head. Just visualize that for a minute.
"OH, but he's just a kid," you'll defend, "and we all know things are different when you're an adult."
Really? Like what? Now that you're a certain age, what: you don't get selfishly angry? Now that you're "adult," you don't want to cry over myriad insults from life?
What *is* this difference between one age and the next that makes us drop our belief in ourselves?
Why do we think that a "grown up" way of thinking includes the realization that, in fact, you cannot do whatever you want or be whomever you want and that, in fact, we're all just struggling to make do with what we've got and it's never enough so the best way to muddle through is by obscuring our true emotional paths with chemicals?
And at this point, I bet some of you are wondering if I'm talking directly to you, and some of you are conjecturing that you know who I'm talking to... and I'm telling you that you're all wrong.
I have no problem with people who do drugs (including alcohol and prescribed medications) as long as they are clear with themselves about their motivation and they also do not assume that their motivations are necessarily the healthiest. One thing about being an Adult is true: you do have to answer your own karma, or consequences. And if you're one of the ones who does, that's cool with me.
But even for you responsible drug users, my heart sinks just a little bit, on behalf of my kid, when you tell me about your choices to steer your experience with Stuff From The Outside. Again -- if you know that's your motivation, and you understand every single inherent ramification, *and* most importantly, you're more than just willing to stand up and be held accountable, then bully for you. Truly.
But I'm telling you right now that part of that accountability is to the kids who, like mine, are watching you. They're watching you say, "Man, this week was shit. I'm gonna get plowed now and make it feel better!" They're listening to you say, "I know I'm gonna have a long night, so I took an extra one."
And they're watching the relief suspend around your face as your tense shoulders soften at hearing that you've found an answer -- and that answer is not from within, it's from outside of you. Hallelujah.
They're really smart kids.
Just like you used to be.
Do I use drugs? Yes, I am a caffeine fiend (within certain hours of the day) and I occasionally drink alcohol. Lately, that could be called 'rarely' actually. I also take allergy meds seasonally and aspirin/acetaminophen for headaches now and then. And daily thyroid meds. I'm one of those people who actually truly enjoys the taste of alcohol, and I use it whenever I know that I won't likely have to answer to duties that pop up. Hence, the 'rarely' label of late. I've been busy and slim in the pocketbook. During times like this, I tend toward meditation, yoga, and running to ease my mind. And ranting. /grin
I've had numerous experiences since the 1970's that have shown me I can, indeed, bring about the feelings and thoughts I desire without external agents. I happen to think everyone can, if they want. And from here, we could get into complex debates on neuroscience. And I'd possibly already have explored your points.
Finally: The other day, a friend of mine in the oil business quipped this when I had no personal references to add to banter about that industry: "Just keep driving."
My version for the purpose of this blog topic: Thanks, on behalf of me and all the other marketing writers in the world, for believing what we tell you to think about yourself, your abilities, and what you "need" to add to your life so you can be better than you really are. You can get off the merry go'round any time you like. Until then, thanks for keeping corporations afloat.
You know that old saying about "just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get ya"?
Just because I'm old and crabby, doesn't mean I don't have a point.

