‘Tis the season to be jolly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
As the rest of the world is preparing for the happy, merry, jolly holiday season, up to 10% of the population is slowly sliding into a major depressive episode. It’s called Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), and it makes the late fall and early winter months miserable for those unfortunate enough to suffer from it.
I am one of those people. The cloud seeps into my brain as the days get shorter. By the time we revert to Standard Time, I am fully engulfed. My energy levels are non-existent, as is my appetite and motivation. My desire for sleep in unending. Tears hover, waiting to tumble from my eyes for no reason at all.
It fucking sucks.
When I was younger, I would force myself to participate. I’d buy presents for everyone I could think of, and send holiday cards to over 250 people. I’d decorate my tree, my house, my office, my car, myself. The world said it was time to be cheery, so dammit I’d be cheery.
Now, I just don’t give a damn. I no longer celebrate the season. No more decorating. No more holiday cards (although I do still beat myself up about this one). No more forced cheer. I’m miserable all season, and I’m not going to pretend anymore.
Which doesn’t mean I’m trying to spread gloom everywhere. I’m just trying to keep my head above water, so I apologize if I seem a little distracted. I try to keep my misery to myself. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. I just want to ignore the holidays, increase my meds, and take a very long nap. Hibernate.
I do wish my friends a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I hope my friends are enjoying the season and all the festivities. I just hope it’s all over soon.