I am not unfamiliar with the big SAD (seasonal affective disorder). Like clockwork, it knocks on my window around this time of year, bestowing me with its infamous doom and gloom. The five minute walk to the shops feels like a marathon, and I find myself leaving my room less and less, the pile of mugs on my bedside table evergrowing. The nagging feeling of sadness creeps back into my daily life and before I decide whether I even want to welcome it, it seems the decision has been made for me. It’s a really cheerful time for me in case you couldn’t tell.
Whenever the big SAD used to sleuth up unexpectedly, I found a perverse comfort in it. It was like a stuffy blanket I could wrap myself up in and use as an excuse to do nothing with my day, week, or sometimes month if things were looking really dire. I’d sleep the day away, only go outside for emergencies (running out of teabags simply wasn’t an option), and become a shell of a person. It does not take a genius to figure out this wallowing is not a long-term solution. If anything, the sadness takes pleasure in it, seeping through the cracks of your mind and body, determined to find permanence.
Tried and true, doing the opposite of what your brain tells you is frustratingly what stops the big SAD from getting you. Locking yourself indoors can be a fleeting relief, but going to the gym, getting your favourite overpriced coffee, or even letting the winter air aggressively slap you across the face on a walk heals ten times more. Wrapped up in my coat and scarf, tea in hand, I have routinely done the march up to the Links, Crags, and Calton Hill, plonked myself on a bench and contemplated all my life decisions. And, annoyingly, it improves my mood every single time. The leaves are a rich auburn and the air is so crisp it clears my brain fog; my heart is also deeply thankful for the first signs of movement in far too long.
Walking along the Crags whilst the sun idyllically sets before me, I am almost always filled with an overwhelming sense of peace. For a few moments, I can feel the big SAD float away, like a weight lifting from my shoulders. My mind quietens and everything feels like it might just be okay. The bunnies hopping merrily certainly put a smile on my face. I return to my flat, cheeks healthily flushed, and for the first time that week I don’t feel like total crap.
By all means, revel in Phoebe Bridgers as the support act to your slump. But equally, don’t let her beautiful yet cutting words dictate the rest of the cold months. The trick is not to let this sadness get the better of you. Easier said than done, I know. But my mindset has shifted to realise that I am my only companion who sees, feels, and experiences every version of myself. I am the only one who will witness my bleak days, so my need to combat the big SAD, and trust I can do it alone, feels pertinent. Something as simple as a stroll around the meadows or Holyrood Park isn’t going to permanently fix you, but it certainly won’t hurt you. Loving yourself can just be the walk you’re dreading, the shower you’ve been avoiding, or finally putting away that infinite pile of laundry from last week. And if all else fails, you can run into the abyss and hope for the best.
Illustration by Rose Chase (@rosechaseart) for The Student
