Category: Adderall Chronicles

aubreyhuff_adderall_detroit

Detroit Rock City

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When I got traded to the Detroit Tigers about a month after I was introduced to Adderall, my downward spiral to rock bottom was in motion.

Addies are an amazing high… one I couldn’t believe I had ever lived without.  If my transparency can save one life from falling into the abyss of addiction, then the embarrassment of my tales will be well worth it.

It was Monday August 17, 2009, in Baltimore, and about a month after I swallowed my first Adderall.  At this point I was perfectly addicted.  I woke up once again beyond depressed yet slightly hopeful knowing I was about to head to Camden Yards and pop my 20 milligram partner in crime.  I slowly dragged myself down the stairs of our quaint, four story town home.  My wife had been up since 6:00 am taking care of my one year old baby boy and in no mood for my bullshit.  I decided to hop on my bike and ride the two miles through the city to the clubhouse where I could eagerly await the coming high.

When I walked into the locker room I spotted our manager Dave Trembley sitting in my locker chair.

“Follow me Huffy,” he said.

I thought, “Oh fuck what did I do this time?”

He swung his office door open and I spotted Andy MacPhail the GM of the Orioles sitting in a chair.  I knew immediately that I had been traded.

The question was…where?

When Andy told me Detroit I was a bit disappointed as I wasn’t too fond of the city.  At least the Tigers were in a playoff hunt.  One that I had yet to be a part of during my 9 year career.

It’s always an exciting but nervous time arriving for your first day on a new team not knowing what to expect.  I decided to kill my nervousness by popping my invincibility pill in the cab on the way to Tigers stadium from the airport.  By the time I arrived and hit the clubhouse the high was at full tilt and I felt like I was already the best thing the Tigers had ever invested in.

Keep in mind this was a team that had Miguel Cabrera on it.

After all the pleasantries with my new teammates I was called into Jim Leyland’s office, the manager of the Tigers.  Jim was in his 23rd season as a big league manager.  A three time MLB manager of the year, and a World Champion Skipper with the 1997 Florida Marlins.

When I walked into the office Jim was pulling down a cig, and since my high was hitting really hard, I felt like lightin’ up myself.

I called out, “Hey skipper, mind if I light up as well?”  He laughed, and in his deep, raspy, I’ve been smoking since I was in diapers voice said, “Absolutely! You’re my kind of player!”

I thought for sure I’d fit right in.  I asked him what he expected my role on the team to be and he said, “I see you hitting fifth behind Cabrera every day, definitely playing some first, designated hitter, and some outfield.  Regardless, you’ll play every day.”

I walked out of his office thrilled to be playing every day and hitting in the middle of a lineup expected to go deep into the playoffs.

My first game as a Tiger I did hit 5th as the D.H.  We were facing the Seattle Mariners and staring down Felix Hernandez on the mound…arguably one of baseball’s most dominating right handed pitchers.  I was undaunted as the Adderall did its little dance in my head.  We won the game 5-3 and I finished a modest 1 for 4 for the game.

Two games later we faced Mariner left-handed pitcher Ryan Rowland Smith.  To my surprise, when I checked the lineup, I was on the bench.  I didn’t read much into it as I must have struggled in the past off of Ryan.

The very next game we were playing the Oakland A’s and once again I was on the bench as left handed pitcher Gio Gonzolez toed the rubber.  At this point I was beginning to get pissed and confused.  Just three days ago Jim had told me I was going to play every day.  My teammates began asking me what I did to piss off the manager.  I did the only logical thing I could think of to cure my embarrassment.

I started upping my dosage of Adderall from 20 to 30 milligrams.

I had been an everyday player my whole life and now it looked like I was permanently etched into the dreaded “platoon player” role.

As the days and weeks went on my confusion and bitterness grew.  When I saw my name on the bench once again in Anaheim going up against Joe Saunders (whom I saw the ball well off of in my career) I knew it was time to chat with Jim.

I headed full steam into Leyland’s office clearly perturbed.

“Can we chat Skip?”

The look he gave me had every indication this was going to be awkward.

“Jim, what the fuck is going on? I thought you said I’d be playing every day?”

He forcefully responded, “I don’t remember saying that.”

I was dumbfounded.  He was lying or losing his memory in his old age.  We went back and forth as the conversation ended up going nowhere.  I walked out of his office even more pissed and confused than when I walked in.

Why the hell was I traded here in the first place?

You can guess how the rest of that season went for me.  The Tigers had spent 146 days in first place that season.  But the magic wouldn’t last.  The Minnesota Twins went on an absolute tear the final two weeks of the season and tied us on the last day for the division.  It would come down to a one game, winner take all, contest in Minnesota.  The winner would move on to the playoffs, and the loser would go home.

We landed in Minnesota the night before the big game and as we boarded the bus for the hotel we were told that the Twins would be starting a right handed pitcher, Scott Baker.  I don’t think I slept the whole night I was so excited. After all I only played against right handed pitching.  I was already picturing myself hitting a game winning homer to send the Tigers to the playoffs.  I would forever be remembered in Tigers lore.  It was my destiny.  I had waited my whole life to play in a game of this magnitude.

I was one of the first players to race to the lineup card when I arrived in the visiting clubhouse.  I looked at the middle of the lineup where my name would have normally been.

Nope.

I looked lower, and lower… nothing.

I finally glanced at the bench players and there was my name, like a bright neon fucking light, HUFF.

Now I have been kicked in the dick before, quite literally, but this felt negligent.  I was absolutely sick with anger.  I stormed to my locker fucking hot, popped open my pill jar and threw down two 20 milligram pills.  I had never taken 40 milligrams at one time before.

I didn’t give a shit, I wanted to escape the reality of my situation.

I sat in my locker not engaging anyone. I didn’t move.  I sat there frozen until it was time for batting practice.  It took everything I had to get suited up and go take BP with my teammates.

Nobody said a word to me that day.  The expression on my face said it all.  I was walking around pissed off, red faced, nostrils flared, mouth closed tight, and eyebrows pointed strait down.  Not necessarily the attitude you would want to see from a player before a game of this magnitude.

The Adderall came into full bloom just in time for the first pitch.  My rage lurked just beneath the surface, ready to blow at any minute.  The atmosphere was electric in the Metro dome with 54,088 fans.  Absolutely deafening!  I was enraged I was missing out on such a big game.  I sat at the end of the bench all game, arms crossed.  I know this may sound fucking bilious but it’s the truth.  As soon as I saw my name on the bench that day, I found myself secretly hoping we would lose just so Jim Leyland wouldn’t get the credit.

Looking back on it now, I realized how fucking childish this all sounds.  I also now realize that Jim was no doubt doing what he felt was right for the team.  I couldn’t have made his job any easier being the baby I was.  But the Adderall had taken me over, giving me nothing but selfish thoughts.

I hate to admit this but as much as I wanted to play, Jim made the right call.  The bench was where I belonged.  Adderall threw any rationale I had out the window.  My attitude was embarrassing and I still feel ashamed because of it.

The game went into extra innings. It was a fucking nail biter.   Bottom of the 12th at five to five. The tension in the stadium was at a tipping point.  Any pitch could be the final nail in the coffin.  The Twins had one out…runners at first and second.

Alexi Casilla stepped up to the plate.

And just like that, after five tense hours, Alexi put an end to the game with a walk off single to right field, driving in the winning run from second.

The roar of the crowd in the Metro dome was deafening.  My heart broke for my teammates, knowing how hard they had worked that season.  However, deep inside my selfish Adderall fueled gut, I wanted to scream out jubilantly with the crowd.  The Twins had just put an end to my misery in Detroit.

I must say, I’m so fucking uncomfortable telling you guys this story. Still, I feel it’s necessary to show you how powerful Adderall can be.  Never in a million years would I be such a selfish pussy sober.  On Adderall I wanted to be the guy who made it all happen.  I wanted to be the hero.  I wanted the fame and the adoration. Instead of handling my time with the Tigers like a man, I chose to numb my true self and take Adderall which convinced my mind that I was a fucking victim…and that simply wasn’t the case.

Yes, Jim did tell me I’d play every day.  But that’s not the point.  The point is when I got my opportunities in Detroit I simply didn’t deliver.  I only hit .189 with 2 homers, and 13 R.B.I’s.  I had no one to blame but myself.

This subject is so passionate for me that I’m dedicating a series of blogs on Adderall addiction and the hell it brought into my life.  It truly transformed me into a person I couldn’t stand.  I will continue to share with you in these blogs very personal, painful, even embarrassing truths, because I want everyone out there to know just how fucked up this shit is and how crazy it can make you.

If my transparency can save one life from falling into this sea of addiction then the embarrassment will be well worth it.

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After the Menthol Gates Opened: My Introduction to Adderall Part 2

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Most nights after a game I’d retreat to the hotel bar, drink a few beers and go to sleep wishing it was the off-season. 

Not after my first game on Adderall. 

The chain-smoking, menthol-encrusted party had just begun.  I gathered a few teammates and made plans to hit Maestro’s Steakhouse off North Dearborn Street in Chicago, even though my appetite would be considered petite by most if they could have peeked inside my Adderall lit mind. 

The funny thing about Addies are that you’re never hungry and I didn’t even want to eat. However, booze and the great scenery at Maestro’s sounded amazing.  At dinner, I force fed myself an 8-ounce filet and a hefty side of beer.  I was totally lost in the moment, marveling at my new heightened sense of awareness and don’t give a fuck attitude.

After dinner, the fellas wanted to head back to the hotel.  I had a different idea that involved more booze, more music, and definitely more “atmosphere.” I plucked an easily impressionable teammate from the herd to join me at a nightclub a few blocks away.  This club was set up with “beautiful babes” as far as the eye could see. 

At this point any morals or guilty thoughts about being unfaithful to my wife had gone out the window. The change had come out of nowhere, I had never once considered cheating on my wife sober.  My wife was the most amazing, gorgeous woman I’d ever been with.  Not to mention we were dynamite behind closed doors (at least she was anyway). The desire to just bang another woman never crossed my mind until ‘Adderall’ and ‘Menthol’ took up residence – one on each shoulder, bumping Conscious off onto the floor.

I remember heading outside to smoke yet another Marlboro menthol.  I looked into the pack that the visiting clubhouse attendant at the stadium had adorned me with.  To my surprise, it was half empty (a pessimistic attitude I know).  When I was down to my last few drags, standing on the curb, I was approached by two beautiful twenty-something-year-old women who had come outside to ‘bum a smoke’. 

I lit up another smoke to join them as our conversation instantly evolved.  One of the ladies had hypnotic blue eyes, long gorgeous brown hair with legs and an ass that just wouldn’t quit.  I took an immediate interest in her as I could tell she was curious about me.  The conversation flowed as if we had known each other for years, and the eye contact and chemistry felt flawless.  As we finished up our heaters she invited me to an “after party” at her house. 

Immediately I was on board, but from somewhere deep inside my adrift and out of control prescription drug riddled mind, my guilty conscious began to silently speak.  Visions of my wife back home snuggling my 1 year old baby boy jolted me into an instant state of criminality.  As much as I wanted to spend the evening with this beautiful woman I just couldn’t make myself do it. 

I told her I was flattered and if I wasn’t married I’d definitely be making a different commitment.  I wished her and her friend well and reluctantly walked back into the club still fighting the urge to run back towards a fantasy.

I knew at that moment, that if I were to continue to take Adderall, it would only be a matter of time before all loyalty and culpability were ripped away.

I found it incredibly hard to not hit on women the rest of that night, ultimately fighting off my shoulder demons who urged me to the contrary. As we closed the club, my teammate and I innocently took a cab back to the hotel. 

Breezing through the doors of the Westin lobby I immediately noticed the bar was closed, much to my disappointment. Despite all the booze and atmosphere, I had recently experienced I still wanted more.   With my teammate now heading to the elevator to escape my needy clutches, I said to myself, “Maybe I should just shut it down and try and get some fucking sleep.”

I showered to get rid of the smell of my sins and, of course, the Menthols.  I hopped into bed with 20 milligrams of Adderall, and an inderminent amount of nicotine and beer coursing through my veins.  My heart was racing and I felt as if I could jump out of bed and relive the entire day again, at that moment, without a second thought. 

I had no concept of when I finally fell asleep that night, but that didn’t stop the alarm on my phone from buzzing at 10am. I had to get packed and ready to go to the field. As I sat at the side of my bed trying to gather myself I was surprised although I wasn’t hungover, I felt overwhelming hopelessness.  It was as if my soul was an empty void of depression, sadness, and guilt.  I had never felt this low in all my life. I remember fighting off the urge to cry, sitting on the side of my bed with no idea why I suddenly felt this way. 

Sitting on the bus on the way to U.S. Cellular Field for the final game of the series against the White Sox, I couldn’t help but replay the events from the night before. 

I was astonished and worried at the number of cigarettes and beer I had consumed while the amphetamines were cascading through my veins.  But the biggest thing that bothered me that night was my insatiable urge to want to be with another woman.

That scared the fucking shit out of me. 

I knew I didn’t do anything wrong physically, but in my mind, I had cheated on my wife without a twinge of guilt. Sitting on that bus, I knew right then and there if I continued to use Adderall it would only be a matter of time before I actually took the physical leap. 

As we pulled into the parking lot I gazed up at the stadium, snapped back to reality, and wondered, “How the fuck am I going to play again today?”

As soon as I asked myself that question my brain had an immediate answer. The answer was simple…another Addie please!

The bitch of this whole cycle was the fact that I actually loved playing baseball again while using. If I stopped using, I would have to face the guy that lived in misery, playing the game with zero joy, love or excitement. 

I started to believe that Adderall made me “THE ALPHA MALE.” A man who was confident and fun… a leader on the field and in the clubhouse.  Adderall was going to resurrect my floundering career. 

The temptation to choose confident, joyful, baseball over misery and depression, no matter the trade-off, proved too much for me.  I was willing to risk it all including my family, health, and sanity for baseball.  My mind was made up.  The vicious cycle had begun.

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My Introduction to Adderall

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Have you ever had a moment in your life where you wish you had a time machine so you could go back and change a life altering decision? One that would no doubt result in making your life and others’ lives better? If you answered yes, then you and I have something in common.

I remember that day vividly. It was July 18th, 2009 and I was a Baltimore Oriole attempting to pull it together for our 1pm game against the Chicago White Sox. We were in the middle of the dog days of summer and we were getting our asses kicked on a daily basis. It was the second game of a three game weekend series, and the aches, pains, and mental grind of the game were starting to mount. I was also feeling the full weight of the debauchery from the night before. The last thing I wanted to do was play a fucking baseball game. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

Still dressed in my party clothes from the night before, I sought out an overtly secret and dark part of the visiting team locker room. It came equipped with my own personal, decrepit throne; in the form of a leather Lazy Boy recliner that smelled like ass. Eyes closed, I began to drift in and out of a single thought. I had visions of me as a kid in Texas, kicking dirt on my home town Little League field, dreaming of when I would make it to the pros. Simple enough, but a reminder of better times that allowed me, if only for a few minutes, to forget where I was and how I arrived here. As that thought and the excitement I used to feel about the game washed over me I was quickly pulled back into reality and the rank chair of doom. My hangover wouldn’t let me continue to drift. I wanted to fucking puke.

Nine years prior I had realized my dream. That kid kicking dirt on the field in Texas had made it. I spent 6 years with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and was now in my 3rd season with the Baltimore Orioles. That dream was quickly losing its luster 9 years and One Thousand Four Hundred and Fifty Eight games later. The aches, pains and mental grind of the game were beginning to poison me. Not to mention the fact that I had basically been getting my ass handed to me over the course of those One Thousand Four Hundred and Fifty Eight games playing in the American League East. I was sick of baseball, sick of losing, and sick of being shit faced choosing dark corners of locker rooms and leather lazy boys to hide out in.

A teammate of mine crossed into my seemingly secluded corner of the locker room blocking out the one minuscule ray of light that swept across my closed eyes. I could almost see the smirk on his face and definitely felt his energy. He sarcastically laughed, “Tough one last night Huffy?”

That was an understatement.

Thirty thousand screaming Chicago fans were waiting to rip me to shreds in a matter of hours and I was in no shape to shake that shit off, let alone charge towards the field leaving behind my perfect seclusion.

“I’ve got something that will make you feel invincible.”

I perked up, attention grabbed, eyes suddenly able to open. “What you got man? I’m desperate.” In true infomercial style he replied, “I got an Adderall, and in thirty minutes you won’t be hungover anymore and you’ll feel like you’re twenty.”

Snap! Just like that, my journey with Adderall began. It was that thoughtless, that desperate, that mindless and that instantaneous. I never gave it a second thought.

Major League Baseball tests for Performance Enhancing Drugs and Adderall is definitely considered a PED. All drug tests are random. After any game of choice an MLB drug tester could show up, unannounced and select a handful of players to randomly piss in a cup. If a player failed a drug test the first offense was a slap on the wrist. The second offense… a fifty game suspension with no pay, and a 3rd offense basically pulls the sheet over your career. I had never been tested positive for any PED in my career and at that moment I was feeling lucky.

At the time my attitude was toxic. The way I saw it, I was really getting fucking sick of baseball, so if somehow I got caught and was kicked out of The League for taking drugs, I really wouldn’t have given two shits. The beer and booze filled nights along with the physical grind of the game, the constant travel, being away from my family, and a long losing streak were taking a toll on my body and my mind. I clearly was troubled and was no doubt numbing myself from deeper seeded issues that I was unaware of at the time. I felt numb, I didn’t care…I was drifting. And I was about to embark on using pharmaceutical drugs to help me function.

Aubrey Huff Adderall AddictionAs I reached for that little orange and white 20 milligram capsule it never occurred to me that something so inappreciable and insignificant would turn out to be so considerable within the course of my adult life. I just wanted a quick fix for the torment I was feeling.

Thirty minutes later the dark corner of the locker room I had exiled myself to began to open up. The dim lit room I was hiding in began to get brighter and brighter, mimicking a perfect sunrise. My senses were firing on all cylinders. I noticed every stain on the carpet, every imperfection in the ceiling, even the offensive smell I had been drenched in all night seemed to emit a hint of crisp mountain air after a fresh snow fall.

I felt like Bradley Cooper in the movie, “Limitless” when he took his first pill of NZT.

Hangover??  What hangover?!

I hopped out of the Lazy Boy and rushed with a surge of excitement to get my uniform on. I had always been the guy who hated going out early to stretch. I loathed hearing all the bothersome autograph seekers and asshole insults. Most days I’d be the last one strolling out from the locker room moments before the first pitch.

Not today!

I bolted out of the visitor’s dugout and charged toward the right field line to get loose. I  stretched. I did 30 sprints. I also did pushups, sit-ups, and hell I couldn’t even believe it, jumping jacks! Hardly exercises you’d see Major Leaguers engage in before a game.  I must have looked like a fucking crackhead.

I remember at one point lying face down on the grass breathing it in for what seemed like hours. It must have looked like I lost my mind, but I didn’t give a shit. There wasn’t a more important, confident, or happier man on the planet than Aubrey Huff! Even the asshole Chicago fans firing insults at me entertained me as I began to taunt them in return. For every insult I returned fire. Ironically enough I  could tell they were actually enjoying our back and forth banter.  Filled with power, exuberance, and a newfound love for White Sox fans I even went over and signed autographs; and no doubt made some new fans that day. I couldn’t remember the last time I went over to sign autographs before any game.

Who the fuck is this new guy?  I love him!  How the hell have I played this game this long without this shit?  How did I ever manage life without this?

We lost the game 4-3 and I went 0 for 4. I usually would have been miserable and pissed off, starring into my locker wishing I could ride off into the sunset. Today was different. I felt like I was 4 for 4 and wished we would have gone to extra innings.

It’s no secret I had always enjoyed a beer of two after a game, but the thought of having a beer on Adderall was the only thing on my mind. I remember popping open that first Bud Light, the angels singing, and the gates of heaven opening. It tasted like the nectar of the Gods.

After that beer and for reasons I still can’t explain, I wanted a cigarette. Not just any cigarette, a menthol! I found this odd as I was never really a smoker. Sure, every so often when I was shit faced I would suck one down socially, but I had never bought my own pack.

The clubhouse attendant scored me a Marlboro menthol and I retreated to the clubhouse laundry room and pulled down my first menthol ever. It was absolutely magical. The mix of the Marlboro menthol and Bud Light satisfied my deeply engrained white trash DNA.

That very first drag was spellbinding. Every major sense in my body was at euphoric levels. I had never felt this free. I thought to myself, “shit if every person on the planet was on Adderall the world would be a better place.”

I know many of you right now are probably reading this and about to make a call to your local shrink to try and score your own script.

Please don’t!

It’s too easy to get. Doctors push this shit like Skittles. This is not a drug to be glorified as it has caused much destruction in my life. I want to give you  a very intimate snap shot of what I experienced the first time I took this very addictive, and dangerous substance, so you can understand the allure and how easy it is to get addicted.

I abused Adderall from 2009-2011. I abused it while winning a World Series and ironically having one of the best seasons of my career.

But at what cost?

I have certainly paid for many of the mistakes I made on Adderall since my retirement. I lost my career as I felt I had more to give in the end. I am convinced Adderall was the sole reason for my crippling panic attacks in 2012 that drove the final dagger through the heart of my career. The searing and deep depression I came to grips with in my retirement was only amplified by my abuse of the drug. I lost my sanity, my wife, my faith at times, and my confidence to the point where I thought my life was worthless. I had suicidal thoughts because I started to wonder if perhaps those around me would be better off if I put myself six feet under.

I intend to cover countless stories of my abuse and destructive behavior with Adderall in future blogs. I’m not shitting you when I say, “I will have close to 10 blogs in the upcoming year that touch on how out of control this drug made me.”

If you are considering using Adderall, currently on it, or abusing it now, I hope my future stories scare you straight…or at least give you pause in order to reflect on how dangerous this drug can be.

DISCLAIMER REGARDING ADDERALL – (SHIRE PHARMACEUTICALS/TEVA): AMPHETAMINES HAVE A HIGH POTENTIAL FOR ABUSE. ADMINISTRATION OF AMPHETAMINES FOR PROLONGED PERIODS OF TIME MAY LEAD TO DRUG DEPENDENCE AND MUST BE AVOIDED. PARTICULAR ATTENTION SHOULD BE PAID TO THE POSSIBILITY OF SUBJECTS OBTAINING AMPHETAMINES FOR NON-THERAPEUTIC USE OR DISTRIBUTION TO OTHERS, AND THE DRUGS SHOULD BE PRESCRIBED OR DISPENSED SPARINGLY.

MISUSE OF AMPHETAMINE MAY CAUSE SUDDEN DEATH AND SERIOUS CARDIOVASCULAR ADVERSE EVENTS.***

***For people that actually have ADHD, Adderall may have benefits. But for a guy like me that doesn’t have ADHD, it turned me into a monster.