Fall is already in the air and the days are getting shorter. My horse’s winter coat is starting to come in, my dog is no longer longing to jump in the lake, and the giant maple tree that has shaded the garden all summer is shedding its foliage all over my backyard. For me, the chill in the air, the early darkness, and the turning leaves don’t just signal a change of season, they also introduce a change in mood. The drop in temperature creates almost a mourning, a consuming and visceral sadness for what I fear will come. Too many of my winters have been spent in darkness—not just that which falls by 4pm in December, but the internal kind that prevented me from leaving the house for months on end, cost me jobs, and left me unable to complete the most basic tasks of living. As someone whose bipolar disorder has a seasonal component, winter means withering, and despite the fact that I am now well, stable, and high-functioning by any standard, the connection between the season and depression is rooted so deeply that my body remembers it automatically at the first rush of cold air, the first bare tree, the first morning frost. Now is the time for me and others who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder to make plans for how to stay healthy this winter and implement lifestyle changes that complement our bipolar and depression treatment.


