Is It Different if You Put a Patch on It?

Do you have a nickname for medication you take? I call mine my “patch”. 

It’s in the form of a clear sticker that I put on in the mornings and take off at night. 

I talk about myself like I’m two different people: patched me and patchless me. 

These two “people” are very different. 

Patched me is the one writing this blog post. They’re the one who can get me through college, can focus on assignments and turn them in on time. I trust them to be professional at work and to drive home when we’re done. 

But I can’t and shouldn’t exist as them all the time. 

Being patched for more than a week or two straight, including the weekends, can leave me feeling mentally exhausted and a little disconnected. My patch is also hunger suppressant and if I’m stressed, trying to convince myself to eat something feels physically difficult. 

In a way, I’m more logical and calm. When I found out I had been accepted into my college of choice, my parents cheered in celebration and I simply said “cool”. In my mind, they were either going to accept me or reject me and I had already done everything I could to get accepted. 

Patchless me is the one who feels emotions down to the core. She exists on weekends, eating freely and constantly, and allows my brain and body to rest. She laughs until her muscles ache and decides to try new things on the spot. 

But I can’t and shouldn’t exist as her all the time.

Being patchless means nearly falling asleep only a few hours after I wake up. Assignments fall to the back of my mind while reading through stories about my latest interest for hours on end. Time slips through my fingers like sand, never knowing if minutes or hours have passed when I look at the clock. It means actively wanting to start something but not moving from my spot for hours on end.

I’m more sensitive to sensory input as well. I get overwhelmed from being in crowds or hearing loud noises far quicker than if I was patched. It can feel like every single word being said around me is winding around my skin and pulling in every direction at once. Even with headphones playing music, just going to the grocery store or to a restaurant will leave me close to overwhelmed by the time I’m done there.

I’ve talked to plenty of other people in college who are neurodivergent and some of them don’t take medication. I’ve asked why and there are two main responses I get. One is that they had a bad reaction to the medication. The second is often some variation of “I didn’t feel like myself”. 

I want to talk about my thoughts on the second response. 

Yes, you will feel different on medication, but that’s the point behind taking it. 

If you define yourself by your emotions, your impulses, your ability to focus, then taking something that changes any of that will make you feel like you’re not yourself. I think that scares some people off before they can really meet the person they are with medication.

Patched or patchless, I’m still me. 

It’s like a laptop running on different settings. It may respond differently, but it’s still the same laptop. I am myself when patched and I am myself when patchless.

How is this any different than coffee or tea? Some people can’t function without it in the morning and people don’t bat an eye. It’s even a common phrase: “Don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee.” 

I wonder if they feel similar: if there’s caffeinated them and non-caffinated them. But they are still themselves with or without it.

Is this what it means to be self aware? 

I’ve been told by a few adults over the years that I’m very self aware, but I never really understood what that meant. Like, why am I good at that? What are the other options? How are people not aware of themselves and their thoughts?

I think some people see themselves on medication as suddenly being in an entirely new laptop. This isn’t them, this isn’t their laptop. The mouse moves slower, the screen is dimmer, and everything is just so different. It can’t be themselves. It can’t be the same laptop.

But it is the same laptop. The settings are a little different and maybe a few things have been rearranged but it’s still them. Different, but the same.

I think that understanding or belief, that’s part of what makes me so self aware.

Another part of that is that I ask people about their perspective. 

Differing perspectives and mindsets is a favorite conversation topic between me and my dad, who is neurotypical. He does his best to explain his viewpoint and I do my best to explain mine. He finds my ability to do multi-sudoku (like normal sudoku but with multiple overlapping boards) fascinating and I find his ability to understand the stock market equally perplexing.

Being self aware doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It happens in conversation. That might be with another person, it might be a conversation with yourself. Either way, there’s only so much you can learn about yourself, by yourself. 

When I get really excited or emotional, I “override” my patch. I’ll be patchless until I calm down, even with the patch. It’s often excitement that does it, and I can almost feel the way that patched me settles back into my brain when it’s over. 

I can function like I’m patched when patchless. Never for longer than 30 minutes at a time and it requires some level of panic to start. A late night text about a friend’s emergency, realizing I slept in late, etc. But my brain can’t exist in emergency mode forever, and once I relax it’s hard to get back into it.

Both are a part of me, really important parts. I can’t imagine not being both, because there is no one or the other. I take medication and I’m still me. I don’t take medication and I’m still me. It’s all just me.

I am Lauren Von Elm. Who are you?

Lauren Von Elm is currently interning at The Arc of North Virginia through a program with BroadFutures. She is a rising senior in college at Roger Williams University. She is working on a major in Marine Biology and hopes to study sharks in the future. “I am extremely passionate about sharks,” she says, “and even have a Spiny Dogfish Shark specimen in a jar named Finley!”