Picture this: you’re sitting in your mobile home park, sandwiched between a neighbor whose yard decor consists of 15 garden gnomes and a guy who collects broken washing machines for fun. It’s 10 a.m., and he’s outside trying to power-wash a squirrel. You’ve got bigger problems, though—you’ve just read a study that says your antidepressants might be messing with your brain’s serotonin receptors in ways that no one quite understands. Again.
This is my life now. I didn’t expect to get philosophical about brain chemistry between trips to the Dollar General and trying to figure out why my oven is emitting a smell that can only be described as “burnt regret.” But here we are. It seems selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), those little pills that are supposed to make me feel less like I’m trapped in an emotional snow globe being shaken by an angry toddler, might be doing something surprising to my cognitive abilities. And not “surprising” like finding out your neighbor uses his 1987 Winnebago as a storage unit for exotic chickens. I mean the type of surprising that involves scientists throwing around phrases like “receptor binding” and “serotonin synapses” while you squint and wonder if they’re talking about a new craft beer.
So, according to some folks over at Copenhagen University, SSRIs might not just be doing their thing with mood regulation—they could also be giving our memories a little boost. A sort of “Buy One, Get One Free” deal for the brain. They tested 90 people, slapped them on the antidepressant escitalopram (I know, it sounds like a designer furniture store), and what do you know? These people were suddenly recalling words like they were on some high-stakes episode of Jeopardy.
But wait, there’s a twist. (There’s always a twist.) The cognitive improvements weren’t happening where you’d expect. Turns out, the folks who didn’t show as much change in a certain serotonin receptor—the 5HT4, if you’re keeping score at home—ended up being the ones with the most impressive memory improvements. It’s like getting a promotion because you forgot to show up to work. And what’s even stranger? These brain changes didn’t exactly line up with improvements in mood.
Let’s pause for a second here. In the affordable housing industry, you’ve got two kinds of problems. First, the kind you can see: leaky pipes, a raccoon that’s living rent-free in your shed, the mobile home down the block that is just one strong gust of wind away from becoming a game of “Where’s My Roof?” Then there’s the invisible stuff. You know, the bigger, murkier issues—like the fact that affordable housing doesn’t actually mean affordable when the lot rent keeps going up like clockwork, or that I’m now taking pills that might be improving my memory but not my mood.
Is this like when you patch a hole in the wall only to realize the foundation is sinking? The study might as well be saying: “Good news, the roof isn’t leaking anymore! But the entire house is slowly tilting into the swamp.” Cool, cool.
And it’s not just me questioning whether these SSRIs are actually doing what they’re supposed to do. Turns out, some researchers are starting to wonder if SSRIs are any more effective than a placebo. That’s right, there’s a decent chance my little blue pill is no more powerful than a sugar cube, and I didn’t even get the satisfaction of a sugar high. This is the kind of existential crisis you can only experience while sitting on your mobile home stoop, trying to remember if you locked the door or if you even care anymore.
But let’s not throw out the pills just yet. Because, let’s be honest, I can’t afford another crisis—not with my landlord raising the rent to cover the cost of repainting the water tower. Besides, as the researchers pointed out, we still don’t fully understand how these medications work, and stopping them could bring about a whole new set of problems. And by problems, I don’t just mean the return of those 3 a.m. “What’s the point of it all?” monologues I’ve been treating with Netflix and ice cream. I’m talking serious side effects that make your serotonin receptors seem like the least of your worries.
In the end, it feels a bit like the affordable housing industry itself: no one’s really sure what’s going on, but we all pretend we do while hoping nothing catches fire—metaphorically or otherwise. So, while scientists keep tinkering with our brain chemistry, I’ll be over here in my mobile home park, trying to remember why I came into the kitchen, hoping my antidepressants are at least doing something productive, even if it’s just making me better at Scrabble.
At least I still have my gnomes.
