The personal and the public
By Butch Freedman
It’s labeled S.A.D., a very appropriate acronym as it stands for seasonal affective disorder. In laymen’s terms, it means that as the colder months progress and the days grow shorter and the light disappears for days on end, surprise, surprise, a lot of us feel pretty shitty. Or to be more specific, we get depressed, we get sad, mopey, and down in the dumps. I, at times, suffer this affliction. As one susceptible to the dark cloud, it’s not a big leap for me to succumb to the winter blues. I hide it pretty well, I think. Maybe my wife would disagree. She knows me too well. But there’s no good reason to afflict my darkness on others — and even on myself. So, I do what I can to battle against my tendency, and go outside for a walk, even in the rains and storms. I surf when the ocean allows. And when riding waves is impossible and dangerous, I go to the gym and spend an hour or two working out. Physical activity is very curative. As is getting together with friends and suffering and laughing together. Even a short burst of communication can inject a ray of lightness. I’ve also tried using a light box — a high intensity lamp that simulates (sort of) sunshine. Frankly, it doesn’t do much for me. But worth trying.
There’s yet another cure for the seasonal melancholy, and that’s to get away from the cold and dark, and, if you can afford to, travel to someplace where the sun is still doing its thing. There’s a whole tribe of older Snowbirds, retired folks who go this route —to Florida or Arizona, or Hawaii. Beverly and I are not among this clan, largely because we love the comforts and coziness of our home, and most days, we feel just fine about snuggling into comfy chairs and spending the day reading or going for walks or making big pots of soup. Winter does have its charms, you know. We still travel, but in shorter bursts, and to places where we’ve never been before.
But there’s yet another side to the onset of stormy weather, one that is more universal than personal. Lately, what I find way more depressing than the weather, is the state of our federal government, and, at least in the short term, I’m afraid there is no cure for that. Despite their humiliating losses in the mid-terms, the fools in the executive branch are wildly flailing about to make the next two months (at minimum) as awful and cruel and deranged as the first 22 were. They apparently still don’t get the message—namely that an overwhelming swath of the populace is sick and tired of the corruption, both financial and moral, that has infected the last two years of trump’s attempt to destroy democracy and plaster ugly monuments to himself all over the Capitol. There will be a reckoning come January, many of the rats are already scurrying off the sinking ship, but enough remain to continue the chaos. If there was any imagining that the scoundrels would see the light and let up on the cruelty playbook, the appointment of Stephen Miller (the worst human being on the planet) as chief of staff put an end to that.
So, on both a personal and national level, I am struggling right now to find the right path and maintain a level of equanimity. Sometimes, the best way to deal with sadness is to face it head on. What is it that makes us blue and what can we do about it? Perhaps the answer is simply to make the best of the reality you live in — be kind to your friends and family, laugh when you can, and wait for another brighter day. That day is closer than it’s been in a long time.
