I stopped ADHD meds and quit my six-figure tech job

I’m nervous to post this, but in typical me-fashion, I’m going to be vulnerable and keep going.

In August of 2023 I was diagnosed with ADHD combined type; meaning that I fit the criteria for both inattentive and hyperactive/impulsive ADHD. It explained so much of how I’d moved through life–distracted yet restless, chasing ten thoughts at once. Like most people recently diagnosed, I was given the first approach to treatment, a prescription: 5 mg of Adderall, twice a day.

At first, it felt incredible. The noise in my head quieted. I could sit at my laptop for hours without jumping up to feed the dog, switch the laundry, or grab a snack. I was less anxious, more “productive.”

But with that new clarity, I noticed something unsettling: my creativity dulled, my joy for food and even sex faded. I also saw exactly where my hours were going…sitting in front of a 20-inch aluminum rectangle, making small talk with people I’d never met in person, building something that didn’t seem to actually make life better for humans.

It hit me hard: maybe ADHD meds work so well for our society because they keep people focused on goals that aren’t really their own. I thought, maybe it’s not just ADHD, maybe it’s capitalism. I couldn’t shake this idea.

Since January, I’ve stopped taking Adderall and started practicing mindfulness in my thoughts, body, and life. Since April, I haven’t worked full-time. Most days, I wake up early, walk my dog, cook nourishing meals, move my body. I measure my worth in rest, fresh air, and the pleasure of feeding myself well. My brain is well-supported. I keep wondering: is it ADHD, or is my brain simply wired for a slower, more human way of living?

Please don’t take this the wrong way, being diagnosed and receiving treatment changed my life. It helped me see that I was never broken, just wired a certain type of way. I’m forever grateful for the neurodivergent community that helped me understand this.

However, I just hope one day we’ll question not only our brains, but also the world we’re asked to fit them into. Maybe the real treatment isn’t another prescription, but daring to slow down and give ourselves the kind of care no system can profit from.