'Tis the Season

No, I'm not one of those crazed Christmas-in-October people. Definitely not; my tolerance for carols is much too low for such an affectation. That, and I like Thanksgiving.

'Tis the SAD Season.
Seasonal Affective Depression

We're all a little bit seasonal, as Dr. Rosenthal mentions in his book, "Winter Blues." (The Handbook 2 of the SAD world.) It's just that some of us experience it more intensely than others. For most people, it's normal to feel a little lazier after the exhaustive work of the holiday season is over or to find it harder to get up when the sun isn't. For some people, like myself, it gets in the way of everyday activities.
One year, I went for nearly two months without taking out the trash or doing the dishes because I just didn't have the energy.
One year, I spent an entire day in bed. Literally. I didn't go to the bathroom more than three times and may have ventured into the kitchen once to get some water.
One year, I took a nice, long, warm bubble bath because I was stressed. I got out, wrapped my towel around me and looked in the mirror. I didn't like the grumpy looking face I was wearing, so I tried to smile. And I couldn't; it was too physically painful. My facial muscles were actually incapable of forming a smile at that moment. (That was when I knew I had a problem.)


So this isn't an emotional depression triggered by circumstances. (I also know what that feels like, so don't think for a second I'm discrediting those with such depression. And don't even ask what it feels like to experience both at the same time. I wouldn't even reccomend imagining it if I were you.) This is a physical depression triggered by chemicals, which I'm working with someone on figuring out the best way to alter those and get them back to where they should be. And where they are 6-8 months out of the year. Because it's chemically-induced (rather than circumstantially-induced), things that normally brighten my day often don't.
In fact, they sometimes make me feel worse.
It's why I often avoid social situations if I'm feeling particularly bad. I have good friends; when they see I'm down, they try to cheer me up. And, while I appreciate their efforts, such attempts are destined to fail simply because they are unable to address the root problem. And I don't like seeing my friends fail when it isn't their fault they can't cheer me up; it makes me feel bad.

Each case of SAD varies in both severity and duration. While I don't know how to gague severity, I do know that mine is severe enough to need professional help. I start anticipating it in late September, and if I'm not careful, by the beginning of November, I'm flooded with it. January and February are almost always bad, and December can be sometimes. Things start to improve around mid-March and the physical depression is all but gone by the end of April.

So what does this mean for me? (And those around me.)

Firstly, it means a change in my hunger trends. I'll either be craving chocolate and sugary substances or I just won't feel like going through all the work of making and cleaning up after a meal. Neither of which are very good. So I budget more for my food in the winter time so I can eat out, doing all I can to get leftovers for lunch the next day.

The most noticeable aspect is that I withdraw socially, mostly for the reasons listed earlier. Also, being around a lot of people can be exhausting. It takes a lot of energy to paste a smile on my face so people don't ask me what's wrong.

I also get a little grumpier. My patience wears thin and I'm apt to overreacting. Yet one more reason to limit human exposure until I get this all under control.

However, with SAD, there's a light built into the end of the tunnnel. I know better weather and better feelings will come around again. I've just got to do what I can to get there.