How It Went Over

Two very silent months passed. Rikki and I were in touch sporadically, as we usually are, and only via email. Living in a different time zone also helped me stay out of her hair.

After two months, she finally emailed me, “Okay, I think I’m ready to talk,” with a bunch of emojis I had no clue how to interpret.

On our call that evening, she shared how it went.

“For starters, the book. I didn’t read every word and skipped around, but I got the basic gist of it. The main part was the CD. I saved the CD to my iPod, and twice a day, I sat down to do a track or two. The tracks were nothing major; a body scan, observing my thoughts as if they were clouds, stuff like that. These things sound straightforward and easy, but trust me, it took every shred of willpower to get through them every day at first. My mind would wander off and I’d start fiddling with my phone and the couch and my sweater and whatever I could get my hands on. Eventually, it got easier to follow.

“I’m not sure how to explain it, but I’d describe the experience as kind of like a reset button. I got off the couch from each mindfulness session like I was waking up from a cozy nap. All the deep breathing trained me to breathe differently. I wasn’t so ‘all over the place’ and overwhelmed as always. Sounds funny to say it, and I can’t believe I signed up for sharing this with you, but it’s working.

“And after four weeks, I did some- thing sneaky. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but the deed is done and I’m happy it is: I started cutting the pill. I cut off a quarter at first, and taking only three-quarters of the dose, and I felt zero difference whatsoever.”

I got a little apprehensive when I heard Rikki was messing with her meds without the consent of her doctor, but I held me tongue. After all, I didn’t recall camp-Rikki being very good with authority figures. Not funny.

“Anyway,” she said after a pause. “Three days ago, I started cutting the pill in half. Then I was at least able to enjoy both halves on two separate days.” She laughed, “Who knows? Now I can start selling my spare pills on the black market, kidding not kidding.

“This morning, I called my psychiatrist to make sure it’s okay to play around like this. Not to pasken for anyone else, but she said it’s totally fine for me to do it.

“Soooo, yep. Practicing mindfulness has helped me so, so much. It’s the most amazing thing ever. I don’t think I ever mentioned it, but the meds never let me get into that wild creative mode. I was feeling dryer on meds, and somehow, this mindfulness thing brought back the joys. Not wild, unhindered creativity, but a deep kind of creativity. I dunno, maybe we can even call it a spiritual creativity? Don’t laugh at me please.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“You’re changing details, right? My kids need shidduchim eventually,” she chuckled.

“Yup, no one will ever know this was you. I’m writing all of this down now but will switch the details. Let’s talk in a couple of weeks, and see if you can keep this up in the long term and what happens,” I said before we hung up.

Then Purim happened, and with Pesach hot on its heels, I didn’t speak to Rikki for another two months plus.

When we were finally in touch, Rikki sounded excited to talk.

“I have a lot to tell you, and over the past few weeks, I started jotting notes in an email draft so I wouldn’t forget to tell you anything,” she said. Here’s what happened to her.

In the hectic days leading up to Pesach, she accidentally forgot to take meds on more than one occasion. Get this—she felt no difference whatsoever! It was huge; she was able to run a household and manage her four children, chores, and her projects without anxiety, overwhelm, or feeling all over the place. “When I realized I wasn’t feeling a significant difference without meds, I pretty much quit taking them. I hardly felt any different. And I made Pesach!” Rikki’s pride was unmistakable.

She still made it her business to practice mindfulness every single day, sometimes only once a day.

“I feel like I’m in the driver’s seat of my life. I’m in charge, not my ADHD. I can tap into the advantages that come with ADHD, while managing the downsides as well, using mindful meditation. I can access my positive energy, patience, and creativity and work with myself not to get lost.”

On medication, both the downsides and the upsides of ADHD are squashed, she explained. “Practicing mindfulness is a much healthier and more effective way of relaxing, focusing, and calming down. Of course, this is not for everyone across the board. There are certain things that mindful meditation can’t do, like shortcutting me to emotional regulation. Also, I still for the life of me cannot sit for a stretch of time, cannot focus on a long shiur, cannot read long stretches of text if it is not totally fascinating. But as long as I can manage my current life this way, and no one is affected by it, I can keep going this way. I don’t think this would have helped me back in my school days, but as a wife, mother, and a creative person, mindfulness helps me way more than meds. Especially the creative part.

“You remember how crazily stressed out I used to get from my work projects when the going got tough. I’d lose it. I would just check out of life. Now, my twice-a-day session helps me reboot and move forward. Not that it’s easy to do the mindfulness thing,” she repeats, lest I think it was easy for her. “And I just had a phone session with my psychiatrist, and she’s fine with this as well.”

“I want to sum up my experience by saying that my life is not perfect now, and in some ways it’s probably harder than without the medication. But it’s okay this way. If anyone wants to try it, they should first practice being okay with their life not being perfect all the time, by letting go and allowing negative emotion and overwhelm to surface.”