ADHD, dopamine addiction and Zazen

Well. I have ADHD. Which is to say... I'm an addict. Edit: LouisDeLarge pointed out that these aren't the same thing, though they can be linked. I have a lot to learn about this still. Anyhow, the clincher for me was hearing a friend describe how they were understanding their ADHD and their addictive relationship with dopamine, and how a non-pharmaceutical therapy for it involved sitting, focusing, and learning to accept a lack of dopamine stimulation while still staying focused. I was like excuse me what did you say and can you say what you just said again because I get dopamine hits from epiphanies.

I came to Zen meditation because it just felt like the only thing that could actually help me change some of my behavior. I mean... that and adopting feminist thought and worldviews. But I know why I need that. The zazen was just like... I don't know why I do so much better when I'm practicing this but I do. But it really makes sense through this lense.

Dopamine addiction is virtually synonymous with attachment, at least for me. Or at least viewing it this way seems to be a powerful tool for stopping the grasping action; it's no longer some abstract action that some unknown part of me is doing... it's when any visual or mental or other sensory stimulation creates an expectation for a potential dopamine hit. This makes it really clear what the nature of so many common traps is: the desire to "attain" OR not attain anything, or reading sutras for the feeling I get from understanding ideas or...so many things will give me a dopamine hit. I'll get it wherever I can. The practice is to notice it, then not feed it more fuel. Let it burn out, which it does if I don't accept any justification at all to look for other forms of fuel.

And when I do that, sometimes, individual things cease to stand out or be focal points in the same way, because I'm stopping looking through the lense of what can bring a dopamine hit. And in the wake of that, everything takes on an even, equal, unshakeable glory- everything seems meaninglessly, unbearably beautiful and precious, and there's no need for me to "do" anything about that.

That's what happens sometimes. More often, I just have to force myself to sit down, stare at the wall attentively, and accept that I'm powerless, that my life is unmanageable, and that becoming still enough to reflect the light of a power greater than myself is all that can restore my sanity.