SAD!

 

Winter has a peculiar way of sneaking into our souls. The days shorten, the sun seems like it’s on a permanent lunch break, and everything feels... heavy. For a long time, I laughed at Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). I dismissed it as a hyped-up excuse for people who just couldn’t handle a little frost. But then, the penny dropped. Or rather, the glass clinked.

I noticed a peculiar pattern in my life, like a mysterious algorithm dictating my habits. My drinking—once a year-round indulgence—seemed to spike when the leaves turned to amber and gold and plummeted as spring flowers began to bloom. It wasn’t random; it was a symphony of seasons, and winter was the conductor of my chaos. This realization became a monumental milestone in my journey to sobriety, an epiphany wrapped in a cold December wind.

Seasonal Affective Disorder isn’t just a catchy acronym; it’s a bona fide villain in the mental health world. As detailed in this KSL article, SAD is far more than just the winter blues. It’s a storm cloud parked over your head, raining lethargy, irritability, and a general lack of zest for life. It’s like having a perpetual case of the Mondays, except the Monday lasts for months.

The article eloquently states, “Shorter days and longer nights disrupt the body’s internal clock, leading to a drop in serotonin and melatonin levels”—a cocktail of calamity for your mood. I’ll admit, I’d been so preoccupied with my own struggles that I hadn’t stopped to think about the biochemical betrayal happening inside me. But there it was, a scientific explanation for why winter felt less like a wonderland and more like a wasteland.

In hindsight, my mockery of SAD was nothing more than ignorance in a snowsuit. My drinking during those dark months wasn’t just about numbing the chill in the air; it was about silencing the chill in my soul. Alcohol became my ersatz sunshine, a makeshift remedy for the lack of light. And let’s face it, a bottle of wine doesn’t exactly come with a prescription for clarity.

Breaking free from that cycle was like clawing my way out of a snowbank. It started with acknowledging the pattern—realizing that my drinking wasn’t an isolated issue but part of a greater seasonal struggle. I leaned on light therapy (hello, sunlamp!), forced myself outside even when the air felt like daggers, and embraced activities that gave me joy and connection. Sobriety, it turns out, isn’t just about saying no to the drink; it’s about saying yes to a life that doesn’t rely on crutches.

So, if you find yourself dreading the winter months, pay attention. As the KSL article wisely notes, “It’s important to recognize the signs and seek help if needed.” Maybe it’s therapy, maybe it’s a sunlamp, or maybe it’s the courage to examine what’s hiding in the shadows. Whatever it is, don’t dismiss SAD as a seasonal quirk. It’s real, it’s powerful, and it’s conquerable.

For me, recognizing the connection between the seasons and my struggles was like finding a key to a long-locked door. And on the other side? A life where winter doesn’t feel so oppressive, where the shorter days don’t dictate my worth, and where sobriety feels like the ultimate rebellion against the darkness.

To read more about Seasonal Affective Disorder and how to combat it, check out the full article here.