The Default Brain: Learning to Live With My Own Chemistry

A brief reflection on my brain's failings and what it means to be me.

When I moved for my new job, I thought the hardest part would be adjusting to my new city, or maybe the loneliness of starting over. What I didn’t anticipate was how much I’d lose my grip on routine things, including my mental health care.

Between moving boxes and onboarding, I never made time to transfer my prescriptions to a local doctor. That meant, unintentionally, I cycled off both an SSRI for depression and anxiety, as well as a stimulant I’d been prescribed for my late ADHD diagnosis.

The last couple weeks have been a strange, dizzying ride with random crying fits, days where focus felt impossible, and work that demanded more energy than I could give. Over that time I’ve been a poor leader, colleague, and spouse. But now that I’m coming out the other side, I’ve realized something unexpected: this version of me — flawed, raw, unoptimized — is the one I grew up with.

This is my default operating system. And honestly? It’s both terrifying and freeing.

I’m not ruling out going back on medication. I know how much it helped me stabilize and function at my best. But for this brief moment, I’m sitting with what it means to simply be myself and to feel the unfiltered rhythms of my own mind, however uneven they might be.

Maybe this is what authenticity really means: not some aspirational version of balance or productivity, but the willingness to exist within the full range of our wiring.

In design and in life, we often talk about optimization — for efficiency, for engagement, for conversion. But sometimes, maybe the hardest and most honest work is learning to live with the system as it is.