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ROBERT TAYLOR |
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for Him |
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There's a quick remedy
for all you SAD people
By ROBERT TAYLOR
For TheColumnists.com
To a significant number of Britons, the onset of winter is a cause of deep regret. That’s if they suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, aptly acronymed SAD and otherwise known as the winter blues.
The cause of SAD is simple. Darkness discourages the body from producing serotonin - a substance that people need in order to keep themselves jolly. In SAD people, reserves of serotonin seem to dry up altogether in the darker months. The less day light there is, the worse they feel.
It didn’t surprise me to read that the term SAD was invented in Britain. In all probability the condition itself was invented here, too. London in particular can be a pretty gloomy place during winter. Sometimes it seems as though an impenetrable grey blanket has been laid across the city. And even when blue skies are in evidence, the working hours demanded of Londoners and the fact that most travel on underground trains means that a lot of people don’t get to see proper daylight at all.
No doubt the same syndrome afflicts people throughout the northern hemisphere but they lack the catchy acronym invented here.
Unfortunately, those people that aren’t SAD can be rather sarcastic and unsympathetic to those that are. They liken SAD to ME--or so called “yuppie flu”--and say that it’s only suffered by people fortunate not to have anything more serious to worry about. It’s not a real illness, they say. It’s all in the mind (which is stating the obvious). No doubt this skepticism and ridicule make SAD people feel even worse.
For me the skeptical line
of thinking doesn’t add up. Just because SAD isn’t
as serious as, say, bubonic plague, and not so obviously visible
as a broken leg, doesn’t mean it’s not an illness.
Most Westerners are pretty sure to live into a ripe old age.
If they’re free of physical ailments, then mental and emotional
ones will come to the fore.
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but we don't have any Serotonin on tap in this pub." |
And in any case the symptoms of SAD, in acute form, are really quite disturbing. SAD people will feel unmotivated, withdrawn and doom-filled. They may experience problems sleeping and varying forms of depression including guilt, anxiety and hopelessness. They may avoid company and experience loss of libido, lethargy and even stomach problems or lowered resistance to infection. Starved of something to cheer itself up, the body craves carbohydrates, and therefore SAD people tend to eat more in the winter months, making them fatter and even more SAD.
The figures say that two per cent of people in Northern Europe suffer badly from SAD, with 10 per cent putting up with milder symptoms. In other words, this is not a psychosomatic or imaginary illness. It’s pretty common and should, to my mind, be taken seriously. So let’s put all the skeptics to one side for a moment, and concentrate on what SAD people should do about their condition.
Actually I have to admit some bias here. I’m one of the 10 per cent that suffer SAD mildly. SAD people like me can’t understand how the majority of the nation can suffer the winter without becoming SAD. I have friends who don’t like the summer for what to me are spurious and ridiculous reasons, like “London gets too hot and sticky” or “there are too many tourists.” To them, I suppose, my saying that the winter months make me fat and inconsolable is equally strange.
Now obviously I’ve read about all sorts of possible remedies for SAD, but one of the best and simplest, though more expensive, is a winter holiday in the sun. Last year I went to Antigua for a week in December, and found that the burst of ultra violet light in the middle of winter lasted me through until late March when London’s climate became something approaching bearable again.
The day I left was a truly atrocious one--the sort that only London at its worst can provide. It was still dark as I drove to the airport and the windshield was battered by gusts of hail. The highway was like something out of a nuclear winter--all dark, wasted gloom. Yet I loved every minute of it, safe in the knowledge that I was escaping. Later, there was sheer joy when the plane broke through the clouds and we were suddenly bathed in light and sunshine. The relief was indescribable.
But the ultimate pleasure is in stepping off the plane on a balmy late afternoon in the Caribbean. Having stepped onto the plane in hail and darkness you’re ready to believe that you’ve been the subject of some wildly elaborate magical trick--something too good to be true. You wander around for the first few hours with a silly, disbelieving grin on your face. And all because the sun’s shining and it’s warm.
A week in the sun can work wonders on various different levels. The thrill of impending escape makes you revel in the misery of the dark months leading up to it and the anticipated contrast. This year I booked my holiday as early as possible, so that I could begin looking forward to it. It’s still over a month before I go, but I’m already dreaming about the beaches I will swim off, the restaurants I will dine at and the exotic cocktails that I will sip. Truly, I’m like a kid in October that has already started looking forward to opening his Christmas presents.
You can see how SAD I am.
Now obviously the downside of a winter holiday is the homecoming. Everything is done in reverse, and instead of a silly grin you have a hangdog look of despair. That’s when you have to resort to other ways of alleviating symptoms. After all, something that has been deemed worthy of medical terminology must also be granted the privilege of medical treatment.
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typical winter day along the Thames in England after all the SAD people have left for Barbados or Antigua |
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Light boxes are all the rage here in London. I haven’t bought one yet, but I’m told you have to sit beside it for a bit, and then you feel fine. I admit that at first I was extremely dubious about this. How can the body be tricked into believing it’s bright and sunny when it’s dark and miserable? It sounded to me like the famous Russian parody on Stalinist propaganda: If the train breaks down, just shut the curtains and ‘pretend that the train is moving.’
But it turns out that the average body--and certainly mine--is more stupid than I thought, and perfectly capable of being tricked into believing something that isn’t true. Light therapy has been proved effective in up to 85 per cent of diagnosed cases. Now I reckon that anyone suffering badly enough to bother with a diagnosis must have worse symptoms than me. So I’m now pretty hopeful that a light box will suit me fine.
The preferred level of light in a light box is “as bright as a spring morning on a clear day”--which seems to make sense--and for most people allowing the light to reach the eyes for three quarters of an hour daily will be sufficient to alleviate the symptoms. Thankfully you don’t have to stare at the light, but can watch TV or read. It really sounds rather relaxing.
But just in case it doesn’t work, a friend of mine has also recommended buying daylight-simulation light bulbs. I’m willing to give it a go, but does it mean I’ll end up walking in sunshine from my bedroom to the bathroom, even in the middle of the night? The good news is that even one of them will make a difference, especially if positioned over my desk where I like to think I spend some productive time.
And if all else fails, there’s always Prozac, of course. This is almost guaranteed to work because it gives the body the serotonin it lacks, and so should automatically cheer you up. The only downside is that if you take Prozac you officially become a nutter--at least in my book--and that’s a seriously depressing thought.
But whatever the chosen remedy, SAD people like me should choose not to suffer in silence, nor to accept one’s fate or to consider it too inconsequential to worry about. Human beings can only try to deal with the ailments placed before them. You can’t expect someone suffering from SAD to ignore ways of alleviating it, any more than someone suffering from a headache should refrain from opening the cupboard in search of aspirin.
It is surely the height of arrogance, and a demonstration of a profound lack of empathy, to assume that something you can’t visualise and don’t experience yourself isn’t debilitating to others. SAD is real enough for me, and real enough for many others.
Now, where can I buy one of those light boxes?
© 2002 by Robert Taylor.
The illustration is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895
Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
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