Coping with Seasonal Affective Disorder After a Difficult Summer
I can’t have my normal winter this year.
I grew up in Southern California in the 1970s and early 1980s, when the weather was still pretty perfect all the time. In 1985, when I was fourteen, we moved to Las Vegas. Yes, it was hot there. The rumors are true. But back then, it was a manageable heat that cooled off enough to be comfortable when the sun went down.
Now I live in northwestern Pennsylvania and when I tell you that my entire bodily system doesn’t know what to do with this weather — I’m not kidding.
Turns out that I love summer. I really do. It makes me so happy.
And also? Apparently, I have seasonal affective disorder. Only I didn’t know I did until I moved here in November 2018 and didn’t see the sun again until May.
Since then, my annual flow has looked like this: Muscle my way through spring, to summer. Glorious summer. The slow let down of fall — beautiful, but winter is nearly here. The dark, damp, misery of winter.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Love the summer. Cope with the winter.
But here’s the problem.
This past spring and summer were really hard for me. Really hard. People I love…
