Oct. 14, 2015
There’s something special about crisp, early autumn mornings—the invigorating runs, the hum of leaf blowers, and of course, the beloved pumpkin spice lattes (PSLs, for those who may not be in the know). These signals herald the arrival of fall: cozy hoodie season, pumpkin beer season, and football season. It’s the time when I can finally let go of the pressure to maintain a perfectly shaved leg. Yet, alongside these seasonal joys, there are elements of fall that I find unbearable, even frightening. The shift to cooler weather often brings darker mornings and nights, and with it, a creeping sense of depression.
Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a form of depression that typically surfaces during the winter months when natural sunlight is scarce. Like other forms of clinical depression—such as major depressive disorder or postpartum depression—SAD manifests through feelings of guilt, hopelessness, and emotional emptiness. It leads to diminished energy, disrupted sleep patterns, altered eating habits, and a profound disinterest in activities that once brought joy. Despite the “seasonal” label, the impact of SAD can be just as severe as its year-round counterparts.
For me, there’s no set date when SAD makes its unwelcome entrance. One moment, I’m fine; the next, I feel an unsettling heaviness in my arms and a weariness that washes over me. I’m not necessarily sad, but I feel drained and hollow. My thoughts race, and as the end-of-summer buzz fades, I’m left pondering what lies ahead.
All I want to do is slip into pajamas, cocoon myself in oversized clothing and blankets, and hibernate away from the world. In my youth, fall was a magical time filled with costumes, candy, and the anticipation of Christmas—complete with toys, holiday breaks, and lavish feasts. But as the chill of the Canadian air descends upon the Northeastern United States, I find myself retreating more and engaging less. The holidays? They now bring a wave of anxiety—the pressure of forced smiles, empty hugs, and insincere conversations; the dread of endless gatherings; and the knowledge that I must put on a façade rather than embrace my true feelings.
I yearn to relish pumpkin picking with my little one and enjoy our annual visit to Santa’s Workshop, but I find it challenging to be present. I struggle to smile, to engage, and to keep from collapsing into tears. So, I withdraw. I cancel plans, start projects that I know will remain unfinished, and dive into books I have no intention of reading. I become adept at evading conversations about myself, letting calls go unanswered and politely declining invitations to social events. It’s easier to hide because what I’m experiencing feels too sad, too pathetic, and not worthy of discussion. I often find myself paralyzed by worry, stuck in a cycle of tears and dark thoughts.
I close the curtains, turn up the heat, and retreat into my comfort zone. I pull on my favorite leopard-print robe, mismatched socks, and bandana, sinking deeper into my solitude. My seasonal depression is just as real as the year-round battles I face, but unlike those, this one comes with a predictable timeline. I can sense its approach, a chill that creeps down my spine like an unwelcome breeze. Between September and October, it always arrives. You would think that being prepared would help, but it only leaves me in a state of waiting—waiting for the long days and even longer nights, waiting for the sun to “come out tomorrow,” as Annie would say, waiting for it to all be over.
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Summary:
This piece explores the complexities of seasonal affective disorder (SAD) as experienced by Lila during the fall. While the season brings beloved traditions like pumpkin picking and holiday gatherings, it also ushers in feelings of anxiety and depression. Lila reflects on her struggles to remain present and engaged during this time, highlighting the impact of SAD and her inclination to retreat into solitude.