You know that scene in Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King where Sméagol is
banished from the Shire community (for murder, but that’s not really important to this particular story) and takes the One Ring with him to the mountains? There’s a montage of his transformation into the dirty, disgusting cursed creature Gollum. He goes into the caves and his face becomes pale and tight, his eyes sink into his head and his cheekbones protrude, he loses all his hair. He’s crawling around on his hands and feet in the dark and just generally losing his mind. It is a pretty gross scene.
That’s what winter in New Hampshire is like.
Of course, first comes the excitement of newness, that chill in the air that means the
holidays are coming. The first snow, which usually doesn’t stick. Ice makes the branches of trees into tinsel. November and December arrive and everyone remembers why they love it here: actual seasons! Winter sports! Layers! But there comes a time, usually after December is all unwrapped and wrapped up, where the reality of the next few months sets in. Seemingly endless winter, even after Punxutawney Phil predicts it will end. And reader, the cold is one thing, but the dark? That’s the killer.
I was never actually diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder (appropriately known as SAD), but then again no one ever formally told me I had a Vitamin D deficiency either; chances are, if you’re from where I’m from, you’ve got it. Instead, I was diagnosed with normal, regular, year-round major depression. The major part of major depression gets worse in the winter. Waking up for school at 9, 10 am gives me about 6-7 hours of sunlight, most of which is hidden behind clouds or I won’t even see on account of being inside. I won’t miss “falling back”.
Like all living things, humans need the sun to live. But we need it to be happy, too. To
give us the energy and desire to live. My therapist told me to go outside, to soak up the sun
whenever possible. Sunlight cannot cure all my ailments, but it’s certainly helped. What I can’t get in the winter I try to make up for in the summer. Every sunny day I spend an hour or more just laying on my deck, flat, rotating every so often like a rotisserie chicken. I’m happier in the summer, and I suspect sunlight plays a big part in that.
I used to work at a pet store, where I maintained a one-sided understanding with the
reptiles: heat lamps are heaven and basking is essential. Lizards need to bask. Humans need to bask. Even a small bask can make you happier and healthier.
When expounding the various merits of whatever it is they love, a responsible
recommender must also explain that there can, in fact, be too much of a good thing. Reader, I must sadly inform you that too much basking can be bad for you. I myself have suffered the wrath of the sun: sunburns, sun poisoning, dehydration, so forth. One time I nearly passed out at the local mini golf course due to heat exhaustion. Our sun is a fickle queen. My mother bestowed upon my brother a token of her Greek ancestry: the ability to tan quickly and evenly to a warm Mediterranean hue. The Irish found on both sides of my family tree converged to find its home in me. Pale, easily seared me. Like a scallop in a Gordon Ramsey show, I am often either raw or burnt, and seldom that perfect golden-brown. I know how painful the sun can be, but I urge you not to let this threat deter you from basking. Sunscreen and shade exist, after all, as does water, which is always a good thing to have on hand during a bask.
A good, proper bask when utilized to its full potential should leave you with a lasting
sense of relaxation, rejuvenation, and warmth. Not third-degree burns. Please bask responsibly.
Reader, what I really want you to know is the undisputable truth that the sun will come
out again. In the cold, dark winter months, it is as easy to lose hope as it is to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers or toes. It is easy for the cold and dark to seep inside, into your body and your mind. When your thoughts are so dark, it can be hard to notice the light. I know, I’ve felt it. Sometimes the winter on the inside is year-round.
But listen: the light is there. The sun will come out. Somewhere close to you, a ray of
sunlight is touching down, and you can go sit in it. Like I’ve said, basking in sunlight is not the miracle cure. It can’t burn away all the dark thoughts and feelings. I’ve got a therapist, a
wonderful support system, a healthy dose of Lexapro, and I still get sad. And SAD.
But the sun can make you warm, and sometimes it’s enough to be warm again. Less nasty
cave creature and more Hobbit. So please, go bask. And if you live in Alaska or something
where the sun actually doesn't come out for a good few days, I hear there are light therapy lamps for sale online for anywhere between $20 to $200, so maybe look into that.
Happy basking, reader! Please remember: it gets better and it gets brighter.
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