So my mind’s moving a bit slowly today.
A bit slowly and a bit like a Lana Del Ray song, all melodramatically languishing around in the calcified dome it calls home. Part of it’s ‘cause I’ve been a bit “under the weather” and part of it’s because everyone’s under the weather – or at least its tyrannical rule when it’s ice raining like this outside. I’m not a fan of winter cold – so much so that I would almost rather be in Tortuga’s position there, minus a body ‘n all, if it meant I could be in the warm desert where he is instead of here. Despite the elements, I’ve been doing my best to face ‘em head on this year. But for some reason, it’s just not the same as when it’s warm. In fact… it feels quite the opposite unless I’m doing something endorphin inducing. And, obviously – with terms like “Seasonal Affective Disorder” out there – I’m not the only one. So while spring is technically only 19 days away or so, I’m wondering what science has to say about it. Especially since it was the next topic covered in my trendy-news subscriptions (clearly a cosmological sign I’m meant to issue my two cents on it). Is it the barometric pressure? Is my brain contracting in my skull, leaving too much space between it and the walls swaddling it?
Nope.
It’s just that those of us who feel shitty are either vitamin deficient or tougher to please. Or, respectively, a lack of sunlight thanks to shorter days and a drop in serotonin and dopamine (the happy makers). Since a lack of the happy makers and Vitamin D can lead to a season long dose of Vitamin Depression, it often presents as exactly that. People lose interest in stuff they like, they sleep longer, and they eat starchier stuff. Check, check, and check. Last night I went to sleep early because I couldn’t think of a reason in the world to remain conscious anymore. Now, when I rewind my slow-moving mind to about half’a year ago, replay any given evening in that beautiful albeit muggy summer month, and put myself there mentally… why, I can come up with at least two point two million reasons to stay awake. “I can take Minnie on an evening jaunt! Visit the family! Do some late shopping! Go down to the water and contemplate my navel!” In winter, not only is all of that inconceivably preposterous sounding for nighttime, but during the daytime it sounds equally lucridous.
Which means some of us stay in and hibernate when at all possible.
Now, though they don’t make the connection here, I can’t help but notice something.
If sun-exposure vitamin absence is among the things causing a permanent case o’ the Mondays, then wouldn’t staying inside and hibernating make it 100% worse? The suggestions I hear are supplements, fish instake, and light boxes that mimic the sun. Nowhere do I hear anything about, “Um, just get over yourself, layer up, go outside, and take a jog. Or even just a walk for fifteen minutes.” Like, I get that it’s uncomfortable and cold. But so are the symptoms of depression. And, yes, I appreciate how hard it is to initiate. No one knows that better than I who had to put down the Venus destined for my vein just to write this (ugh… you’re welcome). But, unless you’re a liar (or legit ill), you can’t say that you don’t feel at least a hair follicle’s worth better once you return, right? Even if it’s with frozen hair follicles?
So why isn’t science suggesting that?
At least the popular trendy ones I’m reading seem to skip it. The way I see it, battling seasonal depression’s like battling fat. You’ve got the hurdles of discomfort there, and the sudden unprecedented lack of willpower. But something magical happens when you fcck off what you “feel like” doing (#couch #bed #heatingpad) and try the thing that works for a change. I really hafta drag my ass out to go for a frosty jog when the “runner’s high” isn’t promised but the first stages of frostbite are. But you know what? I’m never sorry when I go. I’m actually happier 90% of the time. I’m also never sorry when I make myself do the other stuff in the cold season that comes more natch in summer when I’m hating life less – reading, tinkering on the piano, getting out amongst fellow species members, and acting like something other than an imprisoned simian throwing feces at any zoo-going voyeurs who try to stop by to try and coax me out into the sunlight.
So, I think that’s the answer, really. Coaxing ourselves outta pity captivity.
I mean sure: snatch up a bottle of sun vitamins, but unless you’re having perpetual Alaskan nights or live under a blanket of grey, maybe try to up the natch light on your lunch break before resorting to expensive boxes that simulate it. Not enough lunch breaks? Fake a cigarette habit and go get you s’more. Still not enough? Switch careers so you can increase your sunny dose of sanity while you count down the days till spring. Life may not be short, but it may very well be the only thing you ever do and it may very well be the only go round. So, why waste it under office lights like some subject of a living autopsy? In the meantime, make yourself do the same stuff you’d do if checking the daily forecast wasn’t akin to opening your email when you know a hateful torrent of messages awaits you. Because I’m told that doing good shit can up your feel-good-shit body chemicals. With free fixes like that, why waste your money on the Snow Sads? Save it as extra cash to put toward that Hawai’i holiday in a few months.
Specifically – my ticket’s cost.
Which, yes, I’ll accept as a sufficient token of your gratitude for this excellent advice I’ve just offered.