Of Obstacles

I've never enjoyed hearing, "you can't."
It is often followed by, "because," or, "without."

Because I required prescription drugs
to finish grade school,
my father presumed that I would always need it.

When I recoiled from the side effects,
from the mood swings,
from the havoc the chemicals wreaked on my young body,
I was an object of ridicule.

My father turned up his nose
at all my protests,
pride,
and aspirations.

When I wanted to try to live without medication,
his was the voice of protest, of punishment.

He tried to sound reasonable.
"You can't do it without Adderall...can you?
You couldn't before."
He refused to give me the chance
to perservere on my own, to build on my own strengths.

I have taken my life into my own hands.
I have been clean for weeks, freed from an addictive drug
administered to children across the country.
I wouldn't change the path my childhood took,
and I am grateful for the accomplishments of science
that helped me to come this far.
Now, however, I take advantage of my freedoms,
looking within for the power that might have grown over the years,
or might have been there all along.

I intend to succeed.