Some of the world’s great scientific discoveries have, I’m quite sure, started with nothing more than a hunch, a teeny little thread of intuition that propels a curious mind to investigate.
I have a hunch that my Swedish genes are quite like bear genes.
I also have a hunch that time expands like a rubber band during the four months between January and April, making them literally longer than the eight months between May and December.
Despite the fact that each day is now bringing more sunlight than the day before and the arrival of March kindles in me a wan flame of hope for spring, the effect of winter continues to drag me down. I am tired, I am unmotivated, I am hungry.
Did you ever think about the fact that while the amount of sunlight starts increasing in December, it isn’t until at least June (or July near the lake) that the weather is at its warmest? And that while the amount of sunlight starts decreasing in June, it often isn’t until December that winter really arrives in full force? It’s the same with my body – the amount of daylight affects me greatly, but I’m fine through December 31. Come January 1, though, my seasonal affective disorder (SAD) kicks in big time.
I have fought it well this year, spending 7-10 hours a week watching TV guilt-free while I jog or walk on my treadmill or ride my exercise cycle. I maintained a successful weightloss regimen through the fall.
But I haven’t licked my SAD.
I have to drag myself out of bed every morning, usually feeling lousy both physically and emotionally. I spend much of my workday thinking about all the fattening things I want to eat. One recent day I couldn’t stop longing for the Scotcharoos that were sitting in a pan in my kitchen. In order to get my cravings to stop pestering me, I drove home and got them. Once I was back at work enjoying them, I realized I had to have milk to wash them down, so I went to Holiday and bought a gallon (of whole milk).
Most of this winter, I have avoided eating like a pig, but despite working hard to resist temptation and exercising like a maniac, my weight loss of last summer and fall has come to a dead halt. My body is clinging to every calorie as if its very survival depended upon it.
I would
turn my full-spectrum light on in the morning before I have to get out of bed except for the fact that most mornings, I don’t want to see any light until the very last minute when I absolutely have to get out of bed in order to just barely get the kids to school on time (or not on time).
We call this a disorder, but is it really? Maybe we’re supposed to be like bears – with insatiable appetites and big bellies to get us through the winter, doing absolutely nothing but sleeping and lying around until the weather straightens itself around again. I mean, what’s the point of actually staying awake through all this darkness and cold?
Why do we resist our compulsion to hibernate? Why should we try to live like Floridians when they actually have a good reason to be awake?
Right now, I am thinking that this may be the best time of the year – I am nearing the end of the misery, with warm breezes, earthy scents, and shiny green quaking popple leaves to look forward to in the next season. I think May might be the best month of the year, though – it’s getting warmer and I have the whole summer season to look forward to.
June 21, Midsummer’s Day, is a beautiful event – the most sun we’ll see in a day all year, but it’s a little depressing because the sunlight will be waning within 24 hours. My mom once said I had my dad’s pessimistic way of viewing things – halfway through a week’s vacation, I would start counting how few days we had left: only four more days, only three more days, only two more days—and he wasn’t even Swedish.
I have, however, devised a consolation for each season, something to help me believe things aren’t all that bad: From June to September, it’s warm (if we’re lucky). From September to December, fall is pretty and Christmas at least warms my heart. From December to March, every day brings more sunlight than the day before. And from March to June, we can fantasize about the snow melting.
Moral: Enjoy the anticipation, because it lasts a lot longer than the satisfaction!
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