Seasonal affective disorder affects about 10 per cent of the population. Photo / 123rf
Seasonal affective disorder affects about 10 per cent of the population. Photo / 123rf
COMMENT
Imagine having a mood disorder that others don't think is real. An emotional dark cloud that comes over you when literal dark clouds roll in. This is SAD, or seasonal affective disorder.
I have SAD, and you might too – it affects about 10 per cent of the population.Between June and August, perhaps you notice your vim and vigour are noticeably lower than others'. You might struggle to get out of bed in the morning, withdraw from social activities, eat more and feel helpless, hopeless and lost.
If you don't have SAD, I know what you're thinking. "That's just winter. Everybody feels low in winter." If you're in the real doldrums right now, though (and know you won't feel genuinely better until September), you're probably worthy of a SAD self-diagnosis.
I've been reading a lot of Yuval Noah Harari lately (author of Sapiens and Homo Deus). He likes to relate all parts of modern humanity back to the behaviour of the earliest homo sapiens. Indeed, SAD has been around for tens of thousands of years. It's not just humans that get SAD either – many mammals do. SAD is, perhaps, the precursor for our desire for hibernation.
See, physical activity is reduced for many species during winter, in response to the availability of food. Bears, for example – the typical creature we think of when we say the word hibernate – are genetically evolved to sleep for several months because there's little-to-no hope of foraging for food outside their cave. They'll just be left hungry.
Even your dog's mood can be affected by the winter weather. Photo / 123rf
Surviving winter is obviously a lot more difficult for animals who live in the wild, so why do we modern homo sapiens struggle with it? We have more to wear than loincloths, and supermarkets mean food isn't scarce. We have heat pumps! Down-filled duvets! Crock pots!
Well, it's because humans are an evolved species, but we're still wired a certain way. Many behaviours from the early humans carry on today – our desire to protect others and to mate, for example – and a seasonal mood change is no different.
It's almost a shame that our coronavirus lockdown hasn't come now, instead of in March, April and May. Staying inside for seven weeks seems like the only way to survive SAD. Yes, we have heating, woolly jumpers, and an abundance of hot cooked meals. But during winter you still have to get from A to B, and that's the hard part. You must go outside to get to work, see family and friends, shop, and so on. It's those frequent daily jolts of chilly pain that we hate so much.
Even my dog gets SAD. More proof that this disorder is a natural experience for the warm-blooded. While usually bursting with energy to find out what new smells have appeared outside overnight, now I struggle to get my spaniel up in the morning. Even just to go to the toilet – he gives me a look of defeat that says, "it's fine, I'll just hold it in". Don't even ask what my dog is like when he knows there's rain outside – he'll literally hide in a corner of the bedroom so I can't find him and force him out on a walk.
As research has found that hamsters and rats display depressive-like symptoms, when forced to endure short, dark days, it's safe to assume the affliction of SAD is a biological phenomenon for many animals. Coldness and darkness limit production of serotonin – aka the "happy drug". Food may be available,but crisp, fresh produce is harder to find – there are a lot of old and soggy fruit and veges on the shelves this month.
So, what can we do about SAD? Can't book a holiday to somewhere warm because it's impossible to leave New Zealand right now. You could dye your hair blonde like I suggested last week. Or perhaps get back on that hygge wagon that was so popular a few years ago – the Danish concept of cosy culture that helps you actually enjoy the winter months.
Special light therapy is supposed to be effective for SAD patients, but I'm not convinced this can be achieved artificially. My solution for the 2020 SAD season is to take a tip from my dog: find the sunny spot in the house; that crack of warm light coming through one single window. Sit on the floor and let the sun hit your face until it moves. Repeat this process with different windows while the earth orbits, until no warm rays are left and you give up.
It's not much, but it's a hit of Vitamin D. Fellow SAD sufferers: unite with me this winter in finding sunny spots. We can't go to a beach on another hemisphere right now to alleviate our strain. Finding the literal hot spots in our houses is all we've got to get us through.
