Joni & the ADHD Meds Shortage
“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone?'“
Big Yellow Taxi - Joni Mitchell
I f**king love Joni Mitchell.
She’s one of a select few artists I discovered later in life; gorging on her entire catalogue like it was sweet and salty popcorn. And as a lyricist, she’s on point. Especially with the above line from her iconic track, ‘Big Yellow Taxi’.
So it comes as a surprise to me, that I’m now using said line in conjunction with the current ADHD medication shortage. But here we are.
As someone who takes both Xaggitin for ADHD and Sertraline for depression and OCD, meds are a big part of my life. Yet, if you asked me how they affect me day to day, I’d probably say, ‘I don’t really notice.’
Why?
Well, for lots of folks who take similar meds to me, the most potent ‘aha moment’ is often felt within the first month or so.
My moment was on a bus journey home from work.
I’d started taking Sertraline a few weeks earlier and was eagerly (some might say naively) awaiting something…anything to happen.
I even remember the song that was playing as I sat grumpily waiting in traffic just off Sheffield’s Park Square roundabout.
But as the gridlock loosened, so did something in my brain.
Suddenly, a wave of joy flooded over me. I felt something shift. Things felt…lighter.
My experience isn’t everyone’s, though. For others, it’s more subtle.
For both the Sertraline and Xaggitin I take - after the initial impact; as my body accepted these new chemicals as part of its physiology, the ‘sparkle’ lessened.
Not to say they didn’t work anymore; boy did they work! But it was less noticeable. Like an invisible presence, silently supporting me.
The problem with my clandestine co-pilot, was that it was easy to take for granted. That is, until I missed a day here or there (ironically due to ADHD brain).
On those occasions, I was reminded of their value. However, because I knew my meds were available whenever I needed them, even when I missed a dose - it was no biggie. I’d just take them again a day or so later, and shortly after, balance was restored.
So what happens when the things that quietly keep your ship afloat aren’t available? When something you thought you could depend on… disappears?
For this copywriter, dad and husband:
The ‘grumpy half-hours’ when I forgot to take my meds stretched for days
The bucking bronco-like focus that my meds corralled - became the norm
My faith in myself, my job, my future - dissipated.
Sh*t got dark, man. I ate anything that brought me comfort. I blocked out whatever I could to try to regain focus. And where I could usually tick off tasks and blockages with ease, they smooshed into a goopy mass of anxiety the size of the f**king Eifel Tower.
I wasn’t alone either. Searching the Boots Pharmacy Stock Checker, I found that only a few areas in the South of England had stock of the ADHD meds I use. Of course, that doesn’t account for all pharmacies; but after calling 20+ stores within a 50-mile radius, the answer was the same:
‘Anyone looking for Methylphenidate, we’re out for the foreseeable future.’
Here’s where that Joni Mitchell line really starts to have meaning.
Sure, I knew my meds did something. I just didn’t know how to make sense of it, until their magic left my system. Once it did, I knew exactly what they did for me.
They evened me out; addressed the balance that, unbeknownst to me, didn’t exist for over 30 years prior to taking them. They didn’t change me - but they brought out my best, and supported me in a world that wasn’t designed for my brain.
Eventually, I reached the three-week marker. Three whole weeks without ADHD medication.
“Maybe it’s time to roll the dice, Dan.” I thought.
“You’re out and about doing a few jobs; why not bob into the pharmacy on the way home. See if anything has changed?”.
I walk into the pharmacy. In my head, the Three Degrees classic, ‘When Will I See You Again?’ was echoing around in tribute to my missing meds.
“Excuse me, can I check if my medication is in stock?” I said, feeling weirdly guilty for asking.
I waited; longer than I ever remember waiting for this kind of request.
I look over. Everyone seems to be getting on with…well, whatever lovely folk who work in pharmacies do.
Slowly, the pharmacist walks over.
It’s the same guy who’d told me just weeks before, “Sorry, we don’t know when we’ll have this medication again.”
I take a breath.
“We can give you 16 tablets. Will that help you in the interim?”
My brain immediately started to process the possibilities:
16 days of being less grumpy
16 days of being able to think straight
16 days where I didn’t feel drained doing simple tasks.
I could feel my eyes filling up.
“Deep breath in, Dan.” I thought.
“That would be fantastic, thank you”, I replied, as casually as someone overcome with incandescent delight could.
Now, humour me. Have you ever felt so good about customer service you received - that you want to contact your friends, family, postman, priest, cat or whoever to declare your love for the person who served you?
That’s how I felt in that moment.
Jubilant. Renewed. Ready to reclaim weeks of lost time and energy.
The bittersweet of it all? There are still folks going without. And that extends beyond just ADHD medication.
My heart aches for them, and I wish them love as they walk a similar path (some far longer) to the one I have, and may come up against in the future.
And as for the pharmacist. Maybe he saw it in my eyes; that he’d absolutely made my week.
Maybe not.
And while he was simply doing his job - on that day, his words were like the first time I heard Joni .
Comfort.
Possibility.
Rebirth.
Hey, I’m Dan. I’m a mental health writer.
I write newsletters/social posts/web copy for therapists and coaches.
If that sounds good, click my face for a chat.