I’m fairly convinced that I might be part human, part plant – what other reason could there be for my dependence on light to flourish? During the sunnier months I feel great, but as winter arrives and the light begins to diminish, I start to wilt.
I’ve battled with seasonal affective disorder (Sad) since my teenage years. The indications of Sad mirror typical depression symptoms, manifesting as low spirits and fatigue, which can be just as incapacitating. Throughout the years, I’ve endured the entire Sad range, from bouts of extreme exhaustion and cravings for carbs (yes, those are recognized Sad signs), to a particularly low moment of sobbing on the kitchen floor after school due to the cold, dark, and dreary atmosphere.
I’ve always found it hard to relish the snugness of early winter when Sad feels like a looming curse, akin to a lingering winter illness that stretches throughout the season. But perhaps it didn’t have to be this way? Fed up with losing chunks of my life to the gloominess every winter, one year I opted to delve deep into the science surrounding Sad and even consulted a serious-looking Finnish scientist about it for a feature I was working on. His recommendation? Position yourself in front of a light box radiating 10,000 lux for up to an hour, at least five times per week. Eight out of 10 individuals will notice positive outcomes from this, the Finn elaborated, and it’s best to start a couple of weeks before the symptoms generally begin. And make sure to do it in the morning.
Initially, it appeared overly simplistic – the common advice for Sad is to “get light”, yet I had previously tried Sad lamps and lunchtime strolls with minimal results. However, I hadn’t realized how critical the timing is: the light must reach your eyes soon after waking up – before 10am – because the aim is to assist your circadian rhythm. The absence of light leaves those with Sad feeling adrift as our bodies struggle to track time, and the body clock influences numerous factors, from hormones, appetite, digestion, and immune response to alertness, memory, and sleep patterns.
Desperate for change, I committed to adhering to the directions precisely. I purchased new bulbs for my decade-old Sad lamps and set them up on either side of my window seat that captures the morning sun, or at least a dim version of it. Last winter, I made it a habit to sit there first thing every morning to read a book bathed in the bright light, coffee in hand.
I was genuinely taken aback by how effective it turned out to be. I still faced an occasional dreary day, but due to my new lighting routine, I predominantly felt like my normal self. Instead of slipping into fatigue as the afternoons became shorter, I was eager to embrace the day. I could forgo the occasional morning without experiencing any negative consequences, yet I was soon drawn to the light because I knew it would uplift my spirits, particularly on a dreary day.
As winter advanced, I recognized that the light provided benefits that extended beyond mere energy to endure the day – I also had the vitality to enjoy life. Rather than preferring to snuggle under a blanket on the sofa most nights in January, I found myself excited to go out for meals and dance on weekends. Most importantly, I began to appreciate the beauty of winter when I was alert enough to observe it.
With winter approaching once more, I’m back at my bright window, and I no longer dread the darkness.
