ode to my sun lamp
seasonal depression, Schitt's Creek, and trying my best
Just in time for a three-day weekend, a winter storm rolled into town and kept Jo and I cooped up. Even the art museum was closed for inclement weather! This afternoon, we walked down to the coffee shop to grab lunch and work on our newsletters, but dysfunctional wi-fi sent us back home. Did we sit down to work once we got back?
No. We took a nap.
Winter is here in earnest now, which brings mixed feelings. Living in western New York is my choice, and part of me is deeply grateful for snowy days in the face of climate change. On an intellectual level, I know that this wintry world is a huge part of what I fight for when I advocate for responsible environmental policies as we stare down the barrel of the climate crisis. (And, yes, I mean this wintry world—though it was a winter storm, it wasn’t deadly, and it wasn’t too overwhelming for our city’s infrastructure to handle.)
On an emotional level, however… Let’s just say that “grateful” isn’t the word that comes to mind. It’s something more like this:
I have major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and social anxiety disorder. That charming trio is just manageable throughout the year. Then, winter comes, bringing with it seasonal affective disorder. If three’s a crowd, let me tell you—four’s a fucking horde of zombies.
The SAD manifests like clockwork. Every day around three in the afternoon, I get some combination of The Squigs (anxiety) and The Sludge (depression). Heavy on the sludge. I can start a day with the best of intentions, do everything “right,” and still end up there. It doesn’t matter if I wake up on time, do yoga, take my vitamins C and D, take my many other medications, eat a filling breakfast, drink coffee while solving word puzzles with my husband, go on walks with Marmalade, listen to calming music, get focused work done, drink enough water, eat lunch—three o’clock comes, and so do Squigs and Sludge. When I can, I crawl into bed, Marmalade close behind and eager to curl up next to me; when Jo is home, he holds me and we talk softly or sleep.
Every year, I hope things will be different. Every year, they’re the same.
Well. Not exactly the same. My psychiatrist and I try different combinations of meds to see if we can improve things. My therapist this winter isn’t the same person I saw last winter. I’m doing my best to maintain the healthy habits that I consider “right.” Jo says I seem better this winter than I did last winter, even if I still feel shitty.
I know I shouldn’t break behaviors up into right and wrong; judging myself isn’t helpful for anyone, least of all myself. But it’s tough to quiet the self-critic. I try to return to a mantra of, all you can do is the best you can do.
If you’re also struggling with SAD, there is one thing I’ve found that has helped more than anything else:
Last year, my Mom recommended that I get a sun lamp; she used one during winters in her craft room when we lived in Alaska. Jo and I didn’t actually get it until this winter—a lamp of this quality is a financial investment of a couple hundred bucks. The combination of winter once again eating away at me and the feeling of, but I’m doing everything right! meant I was ready to take a chance on something a bit costly. Anything to improve my quality of life. If it sounds dramatic, sorry—but it’s true.
Between nine in the morning and seven in the evening, this lamp is Doing The Work. I bring it with me wherever I’m sitting: on the couch to quilt, at my desk to work, at the dining room table to collage, on my bed to drink my morning coffee. Jo and I call it my “lizard lamp.” More than a lizard, though, I feel particularly plant-y. When I’m not outside, this lamp is my sun. Oh, what a sun it is.
I don’t have a great conclusion to build toward this week. All I want to say is that I’m trying my best, and that if you’re struggling with SAD—or any mental illness, really—I’m proud of you for doing your best, too. Whether that looks like sleeping off The Sludge on a Monday afternoon, doing yoga in bed because the floor feels too far away, or walking to the gas station on the corner to pick up a pint of “fancy ice cream.”
Jo and I couldn’t make it to the March on Washington for Gaza this weekend; we have to be incredibly COVID-conscious for the sake of Jo’s lungs and my sanity. It was moving to see the hundreds of thousands of people who joined their voices together in a cry for a free Palestine and an end to the genocide in Gaza. Netanyahu declared that even the Hague—meaning the International Court of Justice—can’t stop Israel from conducting genocide; while horrifying to hear, I want to respond to that horror with a reminder that together we can and will end this genocide. We can and will build a liberatory future with a free Palestine. If you’re struggling in this season, as I am with the weather and the state of the world, I encourage you to find even a small practice that helps you build hope and resilience.
As a special treat, here is my three-day weekend in three GIFs from Schitt’s Creek:
Working on my vision board:
Getting ready to go to the coffee shop with Cool Hand Jo:
Confronting my lovely husband’s habit of squirreling through chores:
That’s all for this week. Sending you love, care, rest, and a wish: I hope you find your sun and turn to it when the world feels dark.