ABCDEFGLP-1

At some point, modern life stopped sounding like language and started sounding like someone dropped a keyboard down a flight of stairs.

ADHD. OCD. PTSD. SSRI. BMI. MRI. CBT.

And now: GLP-1.

The latest acronym everyone suddenly has an opinion about.

I’m on a GLP-1 medication, and like most things involving my health, the reasons are more complicated than they appear from the outside.

Yes, I’m hoping to lose weight.

But it’s not just about weight.

It’s about heart health.

It’s about chronic venous insufficiency.

It’s about liver disease.

It’s about reducing the strain on a body that already deals with chronic pain, limited mobility, and the daily wear and tear of carrying extra weight.

That’s what gets lost in so many conversations about GLP-1s. People argue about celebrities, before-and-after photos, willpower, shortcuts, and whether taking medication is somehow “cheating.”

Meanwhile, a lot of us are just trying to make our bodies a little easier to live in.

And honestly, some of the benefits have been real.

The constant food noise gets quieter. Hunger stops demanding attention every waking hour. The mental obsession around food eases in a way that’s difficult to explain unless you’ve experienced it yourself.

There is relief in that.

There is also relief in knowing that weight loss may help reduce cardiovascular strain, improve some symptoms tied to chronic venous insufficiency, and potentially help slow the progression of liver disease. When your body already feels overloaded, weight loss stops being an abstract goal and becomes something much more practical.

But lately I’ve been wrestling with a question I didn’t expect.

What happens when the side effects stop feeling physical and start feeling cognitive?

Because the conversation around these medications usually focuses on pounds lost, blood sugar levels, appetite suppression, and health markers.

Nobody really talks much about what happens if your mind starts feeling different.

And I don’t mean feeling a little tired.

I mean watching my own capacity for language—the primary tool of my work—begin to fray.

I’m a writer and a creator. I rely on a certain rhythm, a flow that connects ideas and allows me to find the right word at the right time. But lately, that flow has developed a stutter. I find myself mid-sentence, looking for a common, everyday word, only to find a hollow space where it used to be. It’s not just a momentary pause; it’s a tangible, noticeable gap in my ability to communicate.

It’s losing track of the thought I was just articulating while I’m still saying it.

It’s walking into a room and standing there, completely untethered from the purpose that brought me there.

It’s a brain fog that makes it feel like my thoughts have to push through a layer of static before they can reach the surface.

Lower motivation.

Less mental sharpness.

A strange feeling of being slightly disconnected from myself.

Not enough to cause alarm.

But enough to notice.

Enough to wonder.

Enough to question.

The difficult part is that I already deal with plenty of things that can affect cognition. Chronic pain. Stress. Multiple medications. The normal wear and tear of living in a body that’s been through a lot.

So when the fog shows up, it becomes a frustrating diagnostic puzzle. Is it the medication? Is it the chronic pain flaring up? Is it a symptom of everything at once? It’s hard to know exactly where the static is coming from, but I know it’s there, and I know it’s changing how I show up in the world.

What makes this even more confusing is that the science isn’t entirely clear either.

In fact, some research suggests the exact opposite of what I’m experiencing.

Researchers have been studying GLP-1 medications for their potential effects on brain health. Some studies suggest they may reduce inflammation, improve insulin signaling in the brain, and possibly even help protect against cognitive decline over time. There is growing interest in whether these medications could eventually play a role in reducing the risk of conditions like dementia.

At the same time, a growing number of patients have reported experiences that sound very familiar to me.

Brain fog.

Mental dullness.

Lower motivation.

Difficulty concentrating.

Feeling emotionally flat.

Feeling less excited, less driven, or less interested in things that once brought pleasure.

Some researchers think this could be related to the way GLP-1 medications interact with the brain’s reward systems. These drugs don’t only affect hunger. They also appear to influence dopamine pathways and the mechanisms involved in craving, reward, and motivation.

Which raises an uncomfortable possibility.

What if part of the reason food becomes easier to resist is because the brain’s reward system is being turned down a few notches?

And if that’s happening, could it affect other areas of life too?

The honest answer is that nobody really knows yet.

The science is still evolving.

The long-term neurological effects may eventually prove beneficial while some people simultaneously experience cognitive or emotional side effects in their everyday lives.

Both things could be true.

That’s what makes this so difficult to evaluate.

Because the benefits are real.

But so are the concerns.

And when people talk about weight loss, there is often an unspoken assumption that becoming smaller automatically justifies every tradeoff.

I don’t think that’s necessarily true.

A functioning brain matters too.

Being present matters too.

Being able to think clearly, remember things, create, connect with people, and feel fully engaged in your own life matters too.

So I find myself stuck with a question that doesn’t have a neat answer.

Do the benefits outweigh the risks?

Right now, I’m not sure.

Maybe they do.

Maybe they don’t.

Maybe the answer is different for every person who takes these medications.

What I do know is that health is bigger than a number on a scale.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from a lifetime of medical acronyms, it’s that sometimes the hardest decisions aren’t about whether something works.

They’re about deciding which version of yourself you’re willing to live with.

ABCDEFGLP-1.

We’re running out of letters, but not questions.