There's no mistaking that our lovely planet has now wobbled its seasonal wobble and tilted those of us in the northern hemisphere away from the sun until the winter solstice passes, and we wobble back again.
All that to say, it is DANG DARK OUTSIDE!
For most people, the shortening of days is an annoying but normal part of winter, and they light a little candle and just deal. But for some of us, the lack of light leads to decreased serotonin production, a slowing of bodily functions and a steady descent into a state of depression. This condition is called Seasonal Affective Disorder, bittersweetly acronymed SAD.
The Psychology Today website states:
Seasonal affective disorder (also called SAD) is a type of depression that follows the seasons. The most common type of SAD is called winter depression. It usually begins in late fall or early winter and normal mood returns in summer. SAD may be related to changes in the amount of daylight you get.
Growing up I remember my dad taking off for southern California every year in the fall to get his sun fix. He came back cheerful and effervescent, his solar batteries evidently charged up until spring. It wasn't until much later that I understood how much the change in the seasons and in daylight affected my own mood. In my struggle with depression over the years, I've learned that this time of year is particularly tricky. I can't waste time mourning the departure of the sunlight like some neo-pagan druid person, but I also can't give the gloom any quarter or its tentacles will sneak up on me and pull me down to a place it may take months to get out of. And so, it's time to review the tools with which to fight back.
- Light. Okay, scarce commodity, I know, the lack of which is causing the trouble in the first place. But I have to use what I've got, and I have a policy of at least fifteen minutes a day outside in natural light, in whatever the weather, to get enough light in my eyeballs to tell my brain to produce serotonin. However, let's get real. This is Seattle, and when it is pouring, I have been known to not follow the policy. There enters my Happy Light. It's a full spectrum light called the Apollo Sun Touch (doesn't the name make you feel better already?) which I bought a few years ago at the recommendation of my doctor. From the evening I took it out of its box, was dazzled by its glorious brightness, and subsequently couldn't get to sleep for several hours, it has held a special place in my life from October to April. My neighbors mention it casually - "saw you had your light on this morning...That thing is really bright!" On days when the infamous rain pounds down on the skylight, and the other lamps in the house seem to be fighting a losing battle, you can find the kids and I hovering like moths around the Happy Light, doing math problems in its shiny white glow, pretending we're whizzing down an alpine slope while finding common denominators and adding fractions.
- Peppermint. Oil, tea, ice cream or all of the them at once. Peppermint is called "the world's oldest medicine" and has been long been used for thousands of years to treat digestive ailments and headaches. I have a little jar of peppermint lotion intended for relieving headaches and have learned that it also is useful in lifting the spirits and waking up the brain on days when I seem to be super-glued to my mattress. I open the jar of peppermint on my bedside table and let the aromatherapy do its work until the whole idea of actually getting up doesn't seem quite so overwhelming.
- Loud, Happy Music. This is no time for Sarah McLaughlin, lovely as her music is. Nothing melancholy or bittersweet. Even slow but happy will not do. No, these times call for Abba or the BeeGees or whatever music can be relied upon to make you jump around in spite of yourself. But not in the earbuds. I need the air around me to shake with moving sound waves while I fold laundry, correct papers, clean, cook dinner, whatever. There are times, though, when I have to make allowances for others. "Mom, can we puh-leez turn the music down? I'm trying to write my history paper."
- Forced Marches. I know quite well the benefits of regular exercise on my mental state, but none of those benefits seem very convincing when my alarm goes off in what seems like the dead of night. Instead, through my head resting gently on my tender pillow parade all the logical reasons why tomorrow would be a much better day for going to the gym. Ah, yes, tomorrow would be infinitely better, or at least later this afternoon. And after all, wasn't my throat slightly sore yesterday? I wouldn't want to overexert myself and come down with a horrible virus. That wouldn't be prudent. You see how it goes. So now I put my sweats and running shoes next to my bed, and when I wake up I have a deal with myself: no thinking. Just get dressed and follow the orders: march, march, march.
- Order and Routine. I used to hate structure and routine. How boring! I was a free spirit! Structure was so...what's the word? Stifling! Ha! That has sure led to some trouble! Anyway, over time I've come to see structure as a benevolent but bossy friend, come to help you when you're ill. If you don't give her complete reign over your life, she can actually be quite helpful. So I have my little routines that make life manageable. But sometimes when the weather is cold and my closet is messy, I catch myself thinking that I don't need to stick to the routine. I don't really need a shower today. I don't really need to get dressed yet. I don't really need to take my vitamins. We don't really need to clean the house this week. It doesn't really matter. That is a pivotal phrase, and if I am paying attention and catch myself thinking it, I've learned to stop short and realize that there's more at stake here than a messy house or making my children look at my bad hair all day. If I hear myself thinking that phrase, I have learned that whatever the issue is, that is where the line of wellness is being drawn today. It DOES matter. It's time to fall back on routine. Time to go to bed on time, make my bed, eat breakfast, take a shower, take my vitamins, put things away, do the next thing.
- Something to Look Forward To. Ideally right now I'd be looking forward to a trip to Tahiti next month. But, as that does not seem to be in the current plan, I have to give myself other things to look forward to. Of course I look forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas, but there's also a lot of logistical dread that accompanies those big, busy holidays. The best things to anticipate are simpler, quieter things: a dinner and game night with friends, a movie with popcorn, a winter visit to the zoo, learning to crochet, reading a book by the fire. And honestly some days, the cup of coffee that I'll have the next morning is what I'm really looking forward to.
- Give. Not just money, but time, a meal to friend who needs help, a listening ear to a neighbor or extra attention to the child who needs it. One of the most insidious things about depression is that it pulls all your attention into yourself. It traps you in an ever-shrinking bubble of gray sadness and stupor. It's like the Star Trek: Next Generation episode where Dr. Crusher somehow gets stuck in an alternate universe and the Enterprise and everyone on it are gradually disappearing into gray nothingness. Eventually her entire world is only herself and a ten foot circle around her. That's depression and the mind-numbing, isolating bubble that goes with it. If I can give something of myself away in an attempt to keep that bubble at bay, it's worth every ounce of my effort. And perhaps while I'm at it, the world will become a little bit better for someone else.
- Prayer. God made the seasons, and He also built me the way I am. If I am affected more strongly by changes in the seasons than some other people, then He must also have the manual of how to live with them. I need to ask Him.
So what about you? How does the shortening of the days affect you? And what do you do to deal with and enjoy this time of year, stay healthy and keep SAD away?
