A New State, a State of Writing, and Antidepressants

On the first of the month, our family moved from Florida to Tennessee. Life’s been a little chaotic.

Overall, it’s been a fairly smooth transition: no cars broke down, there were no miscommunications; halfway through our trip, I didn’t have to find a different hotel late at night with three small children in tow (that’s its own story). We moved nine days before school started. If I was scrambling to find the right uniforms, at least we’ve acquired them now. We’ve been on a few hikes & family adventures. Our house already feels like home.

Naturally, I haven’t gotten a lot of writing done.

Since becoming parents, we’ve moved seven times. The last few moves have been difficult, as moving tends to be for the grown ups responsible for…everything. The move from four years ago was especially hard for me for reasons both personal and creative. The overwhelm of unpacking, which involves hundreds of tiny decisions, when I’m already exhausted from packing up and driving, not to mention caring for four children, leaves me with energy for little else. Lacking a creative outlet tends to worsen my mental health. I mean, really worsen it. To the point where nothing interests or motivates me, I’m stuck in ADHD paralysis/depression, even sometimes dealing with suicidal ideation.

For the past few months my provider and I have been trying to find the Right Medication for my ADHD. I don’t tolerate stimulants well (though the few days they calmed my brain was pure bliss, until the heightened anxiety symptoms took over and made basic functions even more difficult). My provider put me on an antidepressant a couple of months ago. And it’s actually helping.

Yes, there are always numerous factors at work. For one thing, I’m more mature now, have more tools in my kit for adjusting to big changes like moving two states away. I was skeptical about an antidepressant since it does nothing for my ability to focus or concentrate. But the last few days seem to prove that it’s helped tremendously.

Now I’m wondering why I had so little faith it would work. Maybe because it’s hard to draw the line between this ADHD paralysis and depression. Maybe there isn’t much of a difference on some chemical level. Certainly I’ve reigned in my hopes that anything could drastically affect my mental health for the better, and we know medication can be a mixed bag with no guarantee of success.

I’m still overwhelmed and deeply frustrated at times, but I’m not spiraling. I’m still tired, but I’ve temporarily withdrawn from non-essential things that sap my energy (Instagram and my newsletter, for example). I haven’t written much, but I know I will again soon. Most of my resources still go towards providing meals, helping with school, and comforting children who wake up in the night, but in a few weeks life will even out a little and I’ll find my writing groove again.

I still feel a sense of loss. We aren’t able to move to the place that’s been my anchor for the past seven years. But we are closer to it than we were before. I’m reading a lot and spending time outside, things that always fill my creative well when life depletes it. There are cooler mornings and the promise of a real autumn for the first time in years. As someone who is deeply affected by her surroundings, this excites me.

I can see my writing projects on the horizon. Who knows how far away that really is at this point, but they’ll wait for me. I’m just glad that science in the form of a tiny pill can help me see that my creative horizon still exists.