Seasonal Depression

Seasonal Depression

Most days are like the sun. Bright, warm, hot, smoldering. Light so bright it burns itself into the inside of your eyelids so that even when they are closed, it blinds. Most days. Skipping on a side walk, cold popsicles on a scorching day, yellow sundresses with white daises. Pure optimism.

Then some days are like the moon. You know they are coming when she shows up too early in the sky. The sun hasn’t set, but there she is. A silver disk against the purples and reds of sunset. With her arrival, the sun begins to fade. It isn’t as bad at first. The night is still illuminated off her reflective surface and the stars still shine with all their hope from light years away. But as her cycle progresses, down she goes with the dawn of the new day, only to appear the next night with a piece missing.

The night sky is not so bright.

And so you go. The day fading into the night. With each cycle getting darker and darker. The sun’s energy begins to fade and so you do too. The days become cooler and the nights icy. The yellow sun dress becomes layers of fabric. Hard wool scratching against your skin. Every inch covered to protect against the bite of winter. No longer a cool breeze of relief on a hot day but an attack that makes you hug the bulky fluff tighter to your body.

Itchy.

How you long for the nakedness of summer and sweet kisses of the sun on your skin.

But nature does not accommodate your feelings. So on you trudge through cold sludge in thick sturdy boots and with the weight of the fabric wrapped tightly around every inch of skin. Walking inside is a relief but a duty as you begin to strip each layer off one by one. A mountain of clothes piles in the corner you lay exhausted from the task. Night takes you.

Days aren’t as welcoming as they used to be. Inside seems more safe more warm.

So you stay.

Inside and sit and eat and drink. Day after day. And then soon the layers are not just a cover on your body but an accumulation of pudge around your midsection.

You sigh and pray for the new year.

These days are not like the sun. The sun still hangs in the sky most days, but something has changed. Time passes in an endless loop with one day feeling just like the last. Nothing new nothing bright just nothing. A numbness begins to overtake you. But what to do?

So you relax into the dullness. It becomes a part of who you are. Always longing. Those bright days begins to fade as you accept this reality. Numbness. On and on and on. The cold seeps into your skin and settles. Your last reserves of warmth overtaken by the chill. You sigh. There is no remedy. This is just how the season goes. Summer acts like a past lover. New, optimistic, hopeful, and then gone the next day. Leaving you in shadow.

And just as you begin to lean hard into this new reality, the snow begins to melt. Layers of wool become a light windbreaker and the bloom of spring peaks through the earth. Pinks, greens, yellows fill the sidewalks. You walk along, defrosting. Winter clothes begin to clear themselves from the corners of your room. Tank tops and shorts and bikinis begin to litter you floor instead.

And then the yellow sundress.

The sun is shining. The heat hugs your exposed skin, optimism is fragrant in the air and buzzes like the sound of bees.

And these days are your favorite. These days like the sun.

You smile.