To varying degrees, I have experienced what is known as Seasonal Affective Disorder my entire life. There are those of us whose moods can be negatively affected by the decreasing amount of daylight during the late autumn and winter months. I've described it recently as "when the sun goes down, my mood goes with it." The effects of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) are much the same as depression. My symptoms have shown up as wanting to hibernate (sleep all the time until this god-awful season is over), lack of interest in anything, and cravings for carbohydrates and caffeine.
On the Summer Solstice of each year (June 21st in the Northern Hemisphere) the Earth's tilt is at its most extreme, and those of us in the Northern Hemisphere will experience the most amount of available sunlight. In Cedarburg, WI, where I used to live, June 21st has about 15 hours and 24 minutes of daylight, and in Prescott, AZ, my current city, we experience 14 hours and 28 minutes of daylight. Compare that to the Winter Solstice, (December 21st in the Northern Hemisphere), when the Earth's wobble is at its other extreme - Cedarburg will experience a paltry 8 hours and 58 minutes of daylight, while Prescott will have 9 hours and 15 minutes of daylight. (In the Southern Hemisphere, they experience the opposite. Right now it's Spring down under, and they are approaching Summer). So between June 21st and December 21st, I'll have lost 5.25 hours of daylight! It sucks, and it's patently unfair. It's like watching your cookie jar go down, but you know you're not eating all those cookies! I'm getting robbed!
So tack SAD on top of Major Depressive Disorder, which I experienced for many years, and this time of year can be a very miserable time of year.
Because I have not experienced much major depression this year, the SAD was very noticeable when it began, which was about a month ago. A couple of other factors in noticing the onset of SAD are that I no longer take prescription medication to treat depression, so my moods aren't squelched, and I've been learning to feel my emotions again.
In both addiction recovery and mental health recovery, negative mood states can be very disconcerting, as they can be a signal that one is back on the road to relapse. I never learned, in sobriety or otherwise, how to experience my emotions in a healthy way. And those of us who have experienced long term depression know the feeling of "I've always felt this way and I'm always going to feel this way" when we're in a depressed state. Hope can be lost, and relapse can easily happen, because we just want to change the way we feel. I by now have acquired and practiced a lot of healthy ways to deal with the way I feel, but trust me that my brain still remembers the most efficient and effective way to change my mood (and forgets the horrible consequences). So, at least in early recovery, it takes a lot of effort and support to avoid the quick, unhealthy fixes while practicing the stuff that actually heals in the long run.
And there are simple practices that help alleviate the symptoms of depression. For me, it starts with doing those things that I don't feel like doing - getting up in the morning, no matter how much I feel like staying in bed, exercising, avoiding 'quick-fix' substances like sugar, carbs, and caffeine, getting outside and facing the day, going to work and being more pleasant than I'm feeling, practicing gratitude, and continuing to connect with others when I'd really rather not.
But the absolutely best thing I have ever done to not only alleviate the symptoms of negative mood states but perhaps start to actually heal them is consistently practice meditation.
Of all the good things we can do for ourselves, meditation can be perhaps the most difficult to practice because the effects of meditation are so subtle. One doesn't sit quietly for 20 minutes and develop a whole new attitude toward life. However, a consistent meditation practice has taught me how to not identify so closely with what I am feeling and thinking as well as allowed me to learn how to sit with my discomfort without having to react to it.
There are two very simple concepts here and if you understand and experience them deeply, you can stop reading.
- I am not my thoughts and feelings, and
- Everything, even thoughts and moods, are impermanent, and if I truly embrace and accept what I'm thinking and feeling, instead of fighting it, I can let it go.
I work with a couple of men who experience bipolar disorder. I suggest a lot of things, but the one 'commandment' I give is DO NOT say, "I am bipolar." Very few people, if any, are mentally ill 24/7. Nobody is anything 24/7, except perhaps our gender and our skin color, but we've seen that even that can change. Upon examination, I've found that I show up each day in many different ways. I don't say 'I am an alcoholic' because I haven't shown up under the influence of alcohol anywhere or anytime for over a year (and yes, I do recall every day that drinking alcohol is not a very good thing for me). On those occasions when I feel depressed, I do not say 'I am depressed.' A better way of stating my condition would be 'I feel depressed.' An even better way is to say, 'there is depression,' or 'there is sadness' or 'there is (whatever is going on at the moment)' because whatever I'm experiencing is going to change, if I allow it to change. Disorders are a very real thing - until they're not. Conditions are a very real thing - until they change.
I noticed an attitudinal shift this year when I began experiencing symptoms of SAD. My previous experience upon experiencing a symptom of depression (and a lot of other stuff) has been to become disappointed with myself for the way I am feeling. I would identify with what I was feeling so closely that I would think that I am less-than or defective because of the way I was feeling. Ask anybody in early recovery what they feel the first time they get a craving for their substance of choice, and they'll tell you guilt and shame. "How can I feel this way after all the damage my drug has done to me and others?" Well, how can you not feel that way after you've trained your brain to equate using drugs with survival? Cravings are natural, and they don't mean a person in recovery is bad.
In my case (and many others, I'm sure), depression fed depression. "Why am I depressed when I hate being depressed? There must be something intrinsically wrong with me (I'm defective)." This year, I was able to notice a symptom ("I really do not want to get out of bed at all"), acknowledge it as a symptom, accept that I was feeling it, and do what I needed to do (get out of bed and start my day) anyway. It is harder to do when I'm having symptoms, but not impossible. I relate it to experiencing allergies now. I'm allergic to some stuff where I live, and the occasional sneezing and congestion are a bit irritating, and something I'd rather not experience, but they don't keep me from living my life, and the symptoms aren't permanent and constant; they're occasional. The SAD symptoms I experience aren't constant; they occur at different times of the day, and don't affect my whole day. Moreover, I no longer have the thinking that the way I'm feeling is permanent, because I know it's not. Unpleasant and uncomfortable, yes, but there's a lot about this human existence that's uncomfortable.
And then there's the sadness! I've mentioned in previous posts that I've really worked on developing genuine connections with others over the past year, and a big part of connecting with others is learning to feel again, and one of the things I feel is sadness, often because things change. Recently 3 of my friends have moved or are moving away. There is sadness about that - it's a loss. And sadness is one of the symptoms of SAD. Today I acknowledge my sadness, and I give myself time and space to experience it, and then to let it go. I regularly take long walks, and this is an excellent time to embrace the sadness and to let it go. I can cry on these walks, and crying is extremely beneficial. Crying is cleansing, and I know that when I cry, I'm not only dealing with the current situation, I'm also dealing with every other thing that I've experienced that I should have cried about but didn't. I have a very good friend who will shortly be moving literally halfway across the world, and that's very, very sad for me because I may never ever see them again. But I wouldn't be sad if I didn't love this person and their qualities - their courage, and zest for living, and good energy, and adventuresome spirit, and confidence. So yes, I'll miss them, but more importantly, I have had the joyful experience of being their friend, and I wouldn't miss that for the world. As I've mentioned before, one constant that I seem to experience is that the best people walk into my life, and that's something I hope never changes. If I didn't allow myself to embrace and experience the feeling of sadness when someone moves on, I would probably avoid allowing shining stars and angels into my life, and I do not want to do that. Y'all give me such hope and joy and inspiration.
Anyway, my point is that it's been my experience that my feelings won't kill me, unless I hang onto them and/or try to medicate them away - then they could.
Feelings are simply feelings, and they're transient.
I used to try to avoid or escape the discomfort of this human experience, and in doing so, I caused more suffering in me and others. I am learning on a daily basis that I do have the strength, courage, faith, resilience, wisdom, compassion, and love to not only engage wholly with life but to do it in a way that creates more peace and joy and healing and less suffering, for me and others. The peace of mind and happiness I experience from living heavily outweighs any discomfort I might experience.
May you be filled with lovingkindness, may you be safe and free from suffering, and may you be well.
Namasté,
Ken
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