My Yearly Battle With...

I don’t expect you to understand. Very few people ever will. My actions, my thoughts my feelings. In my life, all of these are always dictated by me…well, almost always. You see, there comes a time each year when my body succumbs to life’s pressures in a way that is almost completely uncontrollable. That said it is time for me to come clean about something that I have battled for a while. An occurrence that for so long has caused me to label myself as weak. My battle is with Seasonal Affective Disorder commonly referred to as SAD or Winter Depression.

I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t expect you to care. I do expect that you will have patience.

As a child, my personality radiated. Full of excitement, laughter, and energy, I was my parents’ greatest joy and favorite terror. Keeping active in my young age also kept me busy and gave me a social aspect to life that is necessary for children. I was a gymnast. I had a place in something important. It wasn’t long before I gave that all up.

I cannot blame my difficulties on my decision to quit gymnastics but I can trace the origins of my struggles to just a few short months after that choice.

It began when I was in the sixth grade. As a normal child, I loved recess. It was the highlight of most of my days. As November rolled around and turned into December the weather changed also; and so did I. Recess soon became a time when I could breathe. A time when I could be alone. I wasn’t forced to be around people during those 15 minutes. And I took that opportunity, often sitting against the school’s wall watching others and wondering if that random pain in my stomach and right leg would go away.

It didn’t.

In fact, the pain just continued. A constant aching began accompanying me to all of my daily activities. During class, I often could not help myself but to just put my head on my desk and hold back tears. My teacher recognized and approached me asking if everything was alright. Not knowing what was wrong I would always say that I was fine. My teacher starting to see the pattern and how it wasn’t getting better and took initiative to take it to my mother. In a not-so-random coincidence, a sister of mine was taking a psychology class that year and had just learned about this type of behavior. She then intervened.

“What does the pain feel like?”

“Mainly aches with occasional sharp pains.”

“When did this start?”

“Just recently. Mid-November maybe.”

“How often do you feel happy?”

“Happy? It’s been a while.”

She mentioned Seasonal Affective Disorder to my mom and to the rest of my family. It made sense. The only way to monitor if that is what it was would be to wait for the next year and years following to see if my mood would continually change along with the weather.

It did.

To this day, the pattern still continues. Every year as the weather gets colder, I grow sadder. Life becomes a chore. And I often lose the desire to even live. I do not want it this way, a change just happens within me. I can’t explain it in any other way. It just happens. I just deal with it.

How do I deal with it? Well, on a bad day, I lay on my bed hours on end listening to music endlessly hoping to just make it to tomorrow. On a good day, I actually try to do what professionals and those who care about me suggest. I go do things. I get sunlight. I exercise. I eat. I attempt to be social. Just simple things that are made difficult daily.

This last year was one of the worst years to date. Compounding circumstances had no mercy. I did have friends that did everything they could to help. They were often dumbfounded not knowing what they could do. After so long, I still don’t know what others can do to help me. This year has started early. The weather got colder quicker. My body reacted. My struggles have started. The battle is raging.

I do not want pity. I just want people to understand why I change. I don’t want to be judged for things that I cannot easily control. With emotions on edge constantly, I seek more knowledge yearly to combat my struggles. Seeing the static nature of the advice only worsens things. Their advice has been tried previously to no avail. When will I be freed from my own biochemical bullies?

In spring.

When the weather gets warmer. But even then it is only temporary. For now, I remain devoted to my sheets four months out of the year waiting for change. Or for that one thing to come into my life that will ease the ache, if only for an hour.