Don’t Fuck with Our Meds

original image by Zeitgsty

266+1 Pharmacies, 0 Vyvanse

“I know it says we had your medication ready online… but we actually won’t have it until tomorrow.” The pharmacist looked sheepish, already bracing for a meltdown. I recognized the face: One part guilt, one part prepping for a “Karen” outburst.

But no. I wouldn’t give him that. I wasn’t about to feed the myth that ADHDers are just amphetamine-hungry lunatics chasing a fix. So I stood there, sweat beading down my back, after a two-hour trip from NYC to Westchester just to reach a pharmacy that actually picked up the phone and confirmed they had stock.

That might sound a little… drug-seeking. And that’s because it was. I needed my medication. The same medication I’ve been prescribed since age 15 after intensive neuropsych testing.

The same medication I now have to pay a third-party service to hunt down for me because, yes, that’s become a viable business model.

Guess how many pharmacies they checked before I threw in the towel and decided to go on this scavenger hunt myself? 266. No stock. Not brand. Not generic. Nothing.

And even if they had it? There’s another hurdle, some pharmacies simply won’t confirm stock over the phone. That’s if you’re lucky enough to get a human on the line at all. Places like Walgreens increasingly use automated messages with no option to speak to a real person, leaving you left guessing. The secrecy alone feels designed to make you spiral.

Here’s a fun little fact I didn’t learn until yesterday: Generics are legally allowed to contain 80–120% of the active ingredient. That 20% margin may not sound like much. But for context Vyvanse comes in 10mg increments. So if you’re prescribed 50mg based on the original Vyvanse formula, but your generic clocks in closer to 40mg… that’s a different drug experience. Technically, a whole separate therapeutic dose. And the changes go beyond dosage. Each generic has its own binders, fillers, and delivery profile. So you have no clue how your body will react. It’s like playing prescription roulette.

The precise blend your brain has grown accustomed to may no longer be available unless you can afford the name brand on your health insurance which, spoiler, many can’t. Even if you can pay the outrageous price? Good luck finding it. So you’re forced to gamble on a new formulation. For neurodivergent people, who are often extremely sensitive to even small chemical shifts, this is painfully destabilizing.

When people on ADHD Reddit threads complain about their generics? Turns out they’re not being finicky for the hell of it. They’re telling the truth. Even the act of that complaint defies the uncomfortable, half-legitimized stigma ADHD inherently carries.

Personally, ADHD can feel like straddling identities without belonging fully to any. We’re “disabled” in some spaces, but not others. We’re “neurodivergent”, but not always granted the same “legitimized” recognition as those with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). (Sidenote: those with ASD face a host of their own system failures and erasures. We just don’t have the space to cover that here.)

ADHDers also face this odd paradox where we’re everywhere, but still misunderstood. There are over 15.5 million diagnosed adults with ADHD in the U.S., or about 6% of the population. Yet, many neurotypical people still roll their eyes at us. It’s easier to write us off as lazy, distracted, coddled.

But stats say otherwise. Did you know that ADHD is independently associated with a 30–50% higher risk of suicidal ideation, planning, and attempts?

All while millions of us are stuck clawing our way through a slow-rolling shortage that seldom makes headlines. Since 2022, there’s been a major supply crisis of ADHD medications. For those of us living it, each month brings a new fresh hell. We’re constantly jumping through hoops, managing unknowns, and fielding shame. We’re gaslit into believing we’re just drug-seeking or weak. Can’t we go a few days without it? Shouldn’t we ration our pills like adults? Everyone else gets by fine.

That mindset is the problem. It shifts blame onto the person asking for help rather than the systems denying it. ADHDers are only trying to function. And the more they try to conform to society’s rigid demands, the more they’re punished for failing at it.

This piece began with one annoying pharmacy trip. But it led me to a deeper investigation. So here’s what I found and what we’ll walk through.

• The systemic failures behind the shortage
• The emotional and psychological toll
• What people can actually do
• The cultural stigma loops that fuel it
• Why this isn’t about pill poppers, it’s about access and dignity

When Shortages Hurt Survival

Sure, unlike opioids or other substances, ADHD medication withdrawals aren’t lethal. But why is that the benchmark for what counts as medically necessary?

Let’s review some withdrawal symptoms people do experience when forced off their meds:

• Anxiety or depression
• Fatigue
• Increased hunger
• Irritability or agitation
• Sleep problems
• Trouble focusing

Totally harmless, right? Maybe — and that’s a soft maybe if you’re not the one going through it.

It makes sense though. Take away a chemical your brain already struggles to produce (and has learned to rely on), and yeah changes will happen. Remember that scary suicide risk stat from earlier?

Being on ADHD medication actually lowers the risk of suicide by 31–39% compared to unmedicated months.

It also reduces emergency visits and injuries by around 45%, and decreases the likelihood of developing a substance use disorder.

Still not sold? Maybe you’re thinking: “If this stuff causes withdrawal, maybe we shouldn’t prescribe it at all?”

Here’s why you don’t want to go down that path. When left untreated, ADHD materializes as more than being fidgety or forgetful. It dramatically increases the odds of:

• Drinking and smoking
• Drug use
• Risky sexual choices
• Chronic lateness
• Missed deadlines
• Severe disorganization
• Workplace conflict
• Poor emotional regulation
• Car accidents
• Gambling issues
• Legal trouble

These go far beyond quirks and personality. They’re data-backed consequences. And guess what? When any of those things happen, society withholds compassion, opting to double down on judgment.

Here are a few “silly” things that happened to yours truly, off meds:

• I wore two different shoes all day without noticing.
• I got into a horrible car accident (my fault, T-boned someone).
• I lost a job for not “meshing with company culture.”
• I drank alcohol during the day to self-regulate and survive.

There was nothing character-building about it. It was downright humiliating.

I felt even dumber than I already did for not “fitting in.” What’s worse is they made me angry at myself for struggling to just “figure it out.”

ADHD encompasses so much more than a “productivity” disorder. Ask anyone who has it, ADHD will permeate every kind of relationship, in every kind of space. Over time, you erode any trust in yourself and wonder if there’s any world where you belong.

Because right now, this one seems to be shouting back: We don’t care about your inane little disorder, so we refuse to accommodate.

Gatekeeping by Design (AKA Why You Can’t Get Your Meds)

So yes. The shortage is real. It’s happening. It’s bad. And it’s affecting millions of people.

Let’s talk about why, because our experiences expand beyond a few unlucky refill attempts or one understaffed Walgreens. At its core, the ADHD med shortage comes down to a fragile, profit-driven supply chain.

You might think the reason you’re running around to five different CVS locations is just bad luck, “high demand,” or judgmental pharmacists. Yet the truth is way more infuriating and systemic.

Since Vyvanse’s patent expired in February 2023, production of low-margin generics has surged. However, these generics aren’t especially profitable. As a result, many manufacturers are deprioritizing them. Even FDA Commissioner Robert Califf admitted: “A number of generic drugs are in shortage at any given time because there’s not enough profit.”

So what happened next?

Manufacturers cut corners or scale back, creating supply gaps, especially around active ingredient sourcing. That means even if a pharmacy wants to help you, they literally may not be able to get the drug from upstream suppliers.

This system is extremely fragile as well. In summer 2022, a labor strike at Teva’s packaging facility disrupted Adderall’s supply. That one disruption rippled across 11 different generic manufacturers, and we’re still feeling the aftershocks — 3 years later.

The System Built to Underserve Us

Let’s talk about quotas.

The DEA controls how much stimulant and opioid medication manufacturers are allowed to produce. And yes, in its 2024 Annual Drug Report, the DEA itself ties current ADHD medication shortages directly to those limits, despite demand climbs.

The FDA and American Society of Health-System Pharmacists (ASHP) shortage databases echo this. The most widely used ADHD meds are flagged due to active ingredient scarcity, especially amphetamine mixed salts and methylphenidate extended-release. According to a 2024 FDA database, these formulations are expected to remain in shortage for months.

Why? In part, because the supply chain is long and fragile. From raw active pharmaceutical ingredient (API) sourcing (often overseas) to manufacturing to distribution, even a single-point disruption (for example a delay in material delivery) can stall production for weeks or months or, now, even years.

Beneath that logistical chaos is something deeper: post-opioid crisis fear. To avoid another national drug disaster, we’ve overcorrected into a rigid, punitive regulatory state. This has created more administrative hoops for prescribers, along with a climate of fear for pharmacists. Many are currently hesitant to write or fill ADHD prescriptions. Interestingly, most are concerned with red tape, not abuse risk. .

The real kicker? Pharmacies can’t just order more ADHD meds because more people need them. Their supply is tied to a closed-loop quota system that’s enforced through DEA rules and distributor-imposed limits. Pharmacies are only allowed to order what they’re expected to need. That means they’re bound to quantities based on how much they dispensed the prior year.

But every year is different. Especially as diagnoses rise.

In fact, ADHD diagnosis in U.S. children rose from ~6% in the late ’90s to ~10% by 2016, with a similar increase in adults. Yet manufacturing is unable to scale to match. Instead, it’s stayed largely stagnant, creating shortages not in spite of demand, but possibly because of it.

What’s worse, if a pharmacy experienced shortages last year (which almost all did), they’re now allocated less this year to match. This happens regardless if demand spikes or their patient list doubles. There’s virtually zero mechanisms to account for real-time need, and pharmacists are frequently unaware they’ve hit their quota until shipments suddenly stop coming.

These distributor-enforced caps were tightened further in mid-2022 after the opioid lawsuits. That means pharmacies can now be cut off mid-month from ordering any more stimulant meds.

So how are these thresholds determined? Arbitrarily, without pharmacist or doctor input, and without pharmacists even fully understanding them.

Scale fails to meet need when the population in question is stigmatized. Tale as old as time.

When “Overdiagnosed” Means “Overlooked”

Quotas and numbers matter. But there’s an even more insidious layer of institutional suspicion beneath the surface.

It starts with an idea — one that’s maybe harmless-sounding on the surface — that “ADHD is overdiagnosed.” You hear it everywhere: from teachers, from doctors, from skeptical family members. It’s an easy belief to lean on, especially when studies and meta-analyses support the notion in certain populations.

Naturally, when online pill-mill startups like Done and Cerebral blew up during COVID, this narrative only gained steam as diagnoses ramped up. Suddenly, moral panic took form and bred gatekeeping.

Other forces are shaping who gets treated. Much like everything else in this country, bias runs deep. Racism, classism, and ableism all play a role in who’s deemed “worthy” of ADHD treatment.

• Black and Hispanic children are significantly less likely to be diagnosed with ADHD or prescribed stimulants, even when their symptoms are the same as white peers.
• Black children are more likely to be diagnosed with conduct disorder instead(2.4X) . This poses a framing that’s more punitive than supportive.
• Girls and adults of color often go undiagnosed altogether due to gendered and racial biases in symptom recognition.
• Even the evaluation criteria themselves are eurocentric, compounding disparities.

Imagine being misdiagnosed (or not diagnosed at all) because you fell short of presenting the “right way.” Or, imagine growing up without treatment while being gaslit into thinking your struggles are a character flaw. Now, imagine how that shapes your identity over time.

TL;DR — Why the ADHD medication shortage exists

📉 Bottlenecks: The Teva strike + generic deprioritization = long-term shortages

⚖️ Quota Limits: DEA fear in a post-opioid world constrains production

📈 Demand Surge: Diagnoses have skyrocketed, production hasn’t (and can’t)

🕵️ Suspicion: “Overdiagnosis” panic fuels prescriber/pharmacy hesitation

🎯 Bias: Race, class, gender, and elitist beliefs influence access at every level

Stigmas on Loop and What to Do

Despite what the world subliminally tells you, there’s nothing “too dramatic” or “aggressive” about lobbying for your own care. We’re navigating a system that was never built with us in mind, and is actively working to discredit our needs.

Focus. Regulation. Productivity. These are framed as moral virtues more than medical challenges. The kind you either have because you’re disciplined (and thereby more “valuable”) or lack because you’re broken. And so, institutions from classrooms to pharmacies to Congress treat our struggles as personal failings rather than labeling the systemic oversights.

For people like me with ADHD, being unmedicated becomes more proof that we’re lazy. Messy. Unreliable. It confirms the narrative that we bring less to the world, so why would we deserve treatment?

Therein lies the sad paradox: Our untreated symptoms become the excuse to withhold the treatment.

This is the stigma loop accelerating past a few offhand jokes or eye-rolls at neurodivergent TikTokers. It’s structural denial, social judgment, and internalized shame. They all feed each other until you start to believe you deserve it.

original image by Zeitgsty

Sometimes it’s overt — like a professor shaming a student in front of an entire class for needing their legally prescribed medication. (A reminder: that kind of behavior should be protected against under the ADA.)

Other times, the stigma is silent. A look. A pause. A blank expression when you mention your diagnosis. So what can we do?

🧠 For ADHDers

• Refill early. Aim to send scripts by Day 27 or 28 of your cycle.
• Call ahead. Keep a running list of pharmacies that tend to stock your dose.
• Stick with your usual. Pharmacies you’ve used before are more likely to tell you what’s in stock.
• Use stock trackers. Sites like FindRX and MedFinder cost money, but they’ve worked for me.
• Reddit = local intel. Sometimes subreddit threads offer helpful leads on pharmacies with stock nearby.
• Try independent pharmacies. Especially ones near schools or just outside big cities.
• Don’t fight your pharmacist. It’s almost never their fault. But respectful pushback can help (it did for me).
• Get support. Ask for help calling or picking up meds. Talk about it when it’s safe. Visibility kills shame.

You’re not doing it wrong. The system really IS this broken.

🤝 For Neurotypicals

• Stop minimizing ADHD. It’s not a punchline or personality quirk.
• Don’t casually claim it. “I’m so ADHD” is a terrible (and uncreative) shorthand for being forgetful.
• Challenge stigma. Call out comments that frame meds or diagnoses as weak.
• Support access. Never suggest we’re faking or manipulating the system. Especially when you have no proof.
• Normalize it. The more we talk about this like we do insulin or eyeglasses, the less shame sticks.

🏛 For All of Us

• Call and/or write to your reps. Urge them to re-evaluate DEA stimulant quotas. It only takes a few minutes and collective pressure can stick.
• Push for infrastructure beyond awareness. “ADHD month” means nothing if you’re suffering. We need action.
• Back harm reduction. Because moralizing healthcare just leaves more people behind.
• See the intersections. ADHD overlaps with anxiety, PTSD, OCD, autism, trauma, and is filtered through race, class, and gender at every level.

Some of us were lucky. I remember the first time I got the right medication. The static cleared and I stopped living in a daydream. I could listen. I could write. I could have a conversation without zoning out or shame-spiraling. I finally knew who I was beneath the noise.

That internal shift? It was eons more rewarding than simply being productive. It gave me access to a life where I could connect, think, and be more of myself. As a result, my grades went up, bullying about my intelligence ceased, and I built rich interests and opinions that endured.

So, my plea is this.

Never let shame turn you silent. And reject every system that dares to fuck with our meds.