Good morning, Monday.
I, like so many others, suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder or SAD (which is probably the best name for a depressive disorder ever). It's essentially your body freaking the fuck out because the days are so short and you're not getting enough sunlight. Anyone that sees me in the summer sees a lovely, confident, cheerful, and sociable Sara. I go to all kinds of events and parties, and I'm fun. I make new friends, I flirt, I dance, I have boundless amounts of energy. Not many people see me in the winter. It starts in October, when the light/dark ratio goes below 50%. I notice myself getting tired, snappy and easily overwhelmed. The layers upon layers of clothing I now have to wear pull on my muscles that are sore for NO reason, squish my newly acquired pounds of winter fat and make me miserable every time I have to go outside. I bail on plans, and not because I have something else I would rather do, but because I don't think anyone would like me like this. I don't. I'm tired, whiny, easily offended and just SO FUCKING SAD.
I had my first full breakdown when I was 13. I'd been grounded for a long time, no phone, no friends, no television, no leaving the house. School was out for the holidays. I felt very alone, and I hated my home. My stepdad was a tyrant, and my mom was a pushover. My brother was staying with my dad for Christmas, and I hadn't wanted to go. I cried all the time. I screamed, I punched things, threw things. I was a brand new teenager with hormones to spare and a depression I didn't understand. I remember writing "I hate myself" all over my body in red sharpie. (Oxy pads get that shit right off, btw). I remember fighting with my stepdad, screaming that I hated him, that I didn't want to live there anymore, and him opening the door and telling me to leave, then. Which I did. In socks and pajamas, I ran to my friend's house. In the snow. Through a trail and over a train trestle. (Which is a bridge made of train tracks for anyone unfamiliar). They tried to put me in a foster home after that. Which brought up a whole lot of pain that I wouldn't show, my mother was being forced to choose between her daughter and a man, and she was choosing a man. They wouldn't take me into foster care, of course. There were kids who had it way worse off than me. What finally caused me to fully crack was when my brother got home from my father's with a shiny new skateboard and some cash, and told me that I because I hadn't gone to spend Christmas with him, my dad had decided that I didn't get any presents. Stupid reason, really. But I snapped. Completely freaked out. Locked myself in the bathroom and threatened to kill myself if they didn't leave me alone, because I hated them all. Which is when my mother called the cops, and I got my very own police escort to the hospital to talk to a therapist, and court ordered therapy sessions every Thursday at school for three months.
In the ten years since, I've had some bad winters, and some worse winters. I've experimented with anti-depressants, and self medicating in healthy(exercise, tanning beds, vitamin D) and unhealthy (meaningless sex, drugs, cigarettes and alcohol) ways. I've had the best results this year with a combination of the two. Tanning beds, a healthy sex life, a good sativa during the day, a strong indica to help me sleep, and wine. I'm going to Cuba in two weeks, and having an end in sight, even if it's just for a week, is doing wonders. I also have an amazing partner who helps me see the light, or at the very least, makes my darkness more comfortable.
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