Joanne Robertson Facebook ad: “I seriously wish I would've found this sooner”

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If I had a dollar for every hour ADHD has made me waste picking my skin in the mirror? I would be eating steak everyday for the rest of my life. It truly is such a shame, every time I walk past a mirror? I cannot help but instinctively check my face for any imperfections. You and I both know where this goes, don't we? The hours we lose, the trance that the mirror sucks us into like a bizarre whirlpool. Ugh, I can't even tell you how frustrated it was making me because of this. The number of much more productive things I could've done with that time instead of throwing it away like that? I wouldn't even be able to count because the amount would be at such a large scale. And that's not even the worst part, let's not forget that avalanche of shame that comes down crashing on us afterwards. That realization that we have now thrown several hours of our day down the drain because we were lost in a trance. A trance demolishing our face. (To this day, I still haven't told a single soul) The cherry on top? Not only have we wasted more time than we can count? We also get a free destroyed face. My breaking point was losing the promotion of my life because of this curse. I'd be lying if I said it still wasn't stinging me like a needle pinned to my chest to this day. If we were grabbing a cup of coffee together, I'd probably tell you the entire story but I'll spare you the details. I was soon to be promoted to a much better position than the one I am in right now (Assistant Manager) Keep in mind this wasn't just an ordinary promotion, it was a $7 more per hour raise which is HUGE. (an extra $14,560 a year) In order for me to get this promotion, I had one final task to do. I was to edit a large sum of files and have it submitted by the next day. (MIDNIGHT, yes I know, it really sucked) As soon as I got home, the first thing I was going to do was to open up my laptop and get started right away. But I was already stressed about the deadline. And when I'm stressed? The urge to pick goes through the roof. And of course, I just had to go use the bathroom first and oh gosh. I saw one bump. Just a teeny tiny one and lost my consciousness to the picking. By the time I checked my phone, it was already 11:30 PM. The files were due in 30 minutes. My heart sank. I tried. I scrambled. But there was no saving it. The next morning, my manager pulled me aside. "We're going in a different direction." $14,560 a year was gone just like that. Not because I wasn't smart enough. Not because I wasn't qualified. Because I lost four hours to a mere bathroom mirror. That night after I had just lost a life-changing promotion? Enough was enough. I gave in and called sweet old Texas' best psychiatrist Dr. April Chen. (Not cheap at all) "I can squeeze you in Saturday at 2:45" Before our first session, she asked me for a good load of information so she could assess what I was going through more thoroughly. I told her everything. The trance. The precious time I've lost. The promotion that left a permanent hole in my heart to this day. I told her about all the things I'd already tried. The fidget toys. The acrylics. The pimple patches. The therapy. None of it worked. When I first stepped into her office, she didn't look at me like I was some creature. She didn't shake her head like I was some psychopath who just loved doing this to themselves. She didn't add any more shame to the huge mountain's worth I already bear. When I sat down, she didn't waste any time. She grabbed a pen and started sketching something on her notepad. "It's not that you lack self-control and willpower. Your brain is starving." --- I remember staring at her like she had three heads. "Starving? What do you mean starving?" She put the pen down and looked at me. "You know how picking actually calms you down? Like how it's your little form of self-soothing?" I froze on the spot. I was here to meet a psychiatrist and might've gotten a mind reader instead. "That's because it does. You're not making that up. Your brain found a way to soothe itself and it's not random." She started explaining. "Women with ADHD have way less dopamine than most people. Think of dopamine as the thing that makes your brain feel okay, calm, and satisfied. When it's low? Your brain gets desperate. It starts hunting for anything that delivers it. When you're stressed or anxious? It drops even lower. So the hunt gets even more desperate. And picking? Picking delivers. Big time. It floods your brain with dopamine AND endorphins at the same time. Endorphins are your body's natural painkillers. That 'ahhh finally' relief feeling. Which is why you won't stop even though you know it's self harming. Picking makes you feel calm AND relieved at the same time. Your brain found the most efficient source of what it's been starving for. So it locked on. Hard." "Okay that makes sense. But why can't I stop even when I TRY to stop?" She nodded like she was waiting for me to ask that. "Here's the part nobody talks about." She pointed to the sketch on her notepad. "There's a pump in your brain called System Xc-. Its job? Keep your brakes working. The brakes are what help you stop doing things you know you shouldn't. You know... like picking your face for hours in the mirror. This pump needs fuel to work and runs on something called cystine. However, your pump has been SEVERELY damaged. Every time you pick, you damage that pump a little more. The more you pick, the worse the pump gets. The worse the pump gets, the weaker the brakes. The weaker the brakes, the harder it is to stop. The harder it is to stop, the more you pick. So now you're stuck in a loop. And round and round it goes." She drew a little sled on the notepad. "Think of it like a sled going downhill. The urge is gravity here which pulls you toward picking. And there are no brakes on a sled so once you start sliding? You can't stop until you hit the bottom. That 'gravity' is actually a signal in your brain called glutamate that screams at you PICK PICK PICK. It fires the hardest when you're stressed, anxious, or overwhelmed. I'm sure you've noticed you pick MUCH more when your emotions are up there. When the pump is starving, the brakes don't activate. So the PICK signal just absolutely floods your mind which is why you can't resist the urges, ever. That's why you always end up at the mirror after a bad day. That's why you lose hours. That's why you black out. That's why you come back and have no idea where the time went. You're not weak. Your brakes are just broken." Everything clicked. That's why I lost four hours to a bathroom mirror. That's why I missed the deadline. That's why $14,560 a year slipped through my fingers. (LITERALLY) My brakes weren't working. They were never going to work. I looked at her and asked the obvious question. "So everything I already tried…" She didn't sugarcoat it. "The fidget toys? They don't feed the pump. They just give your hands something else to do while the urge keeps screaming. The acrylics? They don't feed the pump. They block your fingers but the urge is still there, clawing at you from the inside. The pimple patches? They don't feed the pump. They cover the spot but the second you peel it off? You're right back at it. Therapy? It helps you understand WHY you pick. But understanding doesn't give your pump fuel. Willpower? You can't stop a sled with no brakes by digging your heels in harder. None of them were ever going to work. None of them have the right parts to install brakes on the sled." I sat there realizing I'd wasted years and THOUSANDS of dollars on things that were never going to work. "So what actually works? Please Dr. Chen, I just want my life back. I'm so tired of losing it to a mirror." She paused. "The truth is... the women who actually get better? They're the ones who feed the pump directly. As I mentioned earlier, your pump is starving for cystine which is the fuel that enables it to work. When the pump gets fuel, the brakes come back online and the urge to pick? Good as dead. Not with more placebos like before, but with real brain nutrition. However..." I was going to lose my mind. "I'm sorry to inform you that you can't just swallow cystine and expect it to work. Your brain has a protective wall called the blood-brain barrier. It's very picky about what it lets through. And cystine? It doesn't have a pass. It gets blocked at the gate. So it never reaches the pump. You're going to need something that CAN get through and convert into cystine once it's inside." --- I left Dr. Chen's office that day with one goal. As soon as I got home, I fell down the Google rabbit hole. It was pretty obvious by now what I needed was a consumable supplement. Most supplements I found were trash. Nearly all of them didn't even mention the blood-brain barrier. Let alone converting to cystine. I was starting to really hate research, and my butt was sore. (REALLY SORE) Then on a Reddit thread about ADHD and skin picking (you know the ones, where women actually tell the truth) I saw dozens of women raving about something called Lyra. I checked how it worked against what Dr. Chen told me. Holy crap. It was exactly what she described. Lyra contains an amino acid called N-Acetyl Cysteine or rather NAC for short. NAC actually bypasses the blood-brain barrier because it's membrane-permeable. (Fancy word for "can slip through walls on its own") Meaning it doesn't need a transporter like cystine does. Once it's inside your brain? It converts into cystine. The exact fuel the pump has been starving for. $49 seemed insultingly cheap for something that could help me stop throwing my life away. Considering I'd already spent: $400 on fidget toys that collected dust $300 on acrylics every month for over a year $200 on pimple patches $1,500 on therapy that "helped me understand" but didn't stop anything Plus losing a promotion worth an extra $14,560 a year What's another $49? A few days later, it showed up at my door. Three small capsules. Every morning. That's it. The NAC slips past the barrier. Converts to cystine. Pump gets fed. Brakes come back online. And the PICK signal that used to scream at you every time you walked past a mirror? Finally quiets down. Day 1: Nothing really happened but I didn't expect anything anyway. Day 3: The urges felt a little quieter but I honestly wasn't sure if it was just placebo messing with my head. Day 5: Something weird happened while I was watching TV. I caught my hand going toward my face and I just... stopped. Not with willpower either, it just stopped on its own. Day 8: I went a whole day without picking and I actually cried that night because for the first time in years, my hands finally felt like they belonged to me again. Day 11: My face started healing, like actually healing. No new wounds to cover up in the morning. Day 15: I sat down to work on a project after dinner and three hours later I looked up and realized I'd been WORKING the entire time. I wasn't wasting time picking, I actually got work done! And it's not just me. In a clinical study published in JAMA Psychiatry, women on NAC were over twice as likely to see major improvement. And if it doesn't work? Lyra states on their site that every customer is entitled to a 30-day money back guarantee (I've personally never had to use) So either it works and you finally stop throwing your life away to a bathroom mirror... Or you get every penny back. If you want to have your time back, here's the easiest way to start. Try Lyra Now: https://trylyra.co/products/lyra-true-calm-supplement-90-capsules P.S. I used to lose hours to a bathroom mirror and just felt so much shame for it but not anymore. People that say you can't buy back time? I'd like to disagree. I'm now able to stop throwing my life away. And you? You can too. Check it out → https://trylyra.co/products/lyra-true-calm-supplement-90-capsules

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I seriously wish I would've found this sooner

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