I’ve always been a fan of adventures. As a girl growing up on the Great Plains, my earliest playtime memories are a sort of Little House in the Big Woods-meets-Xena mishmash. I was going to go on incredible adventures and consume the world with the kind of relentless tenacity that only prairie life can cultivate.
As I grew, my fondness for adventures did, too. I devoured books. I played Dungeons and Dragons. I got engaged at just 18 and moved from a small town in South Dakota to the urban sprawl of DC. Together, my husband and I traveled. We ate. We worked. We procreated. We said yes as often as we could.
And it paid off. After ten years of East Coast living, my husband accepted a three-year gig in Wiesbaden, Germany. We started to prepare our little family for ex-pat life and all the adventures that Europe had to offer.
We arrived in early autumn, folding ourselves into the changing leaves and crisp breezes along the Rhein. There were beers to drink, brats to eat, and castles to explore. I sat in a quaint cafe in Cochem and marveled at the cobblestones outside the window. In that moment, I was proud of how far I’d come. The little girl on the big prairie would hardly have believed that, months shy of her 29th birthday, she would be touring quaint towns and abandoned fortresses with her husband and son.
But as autumn quickly bled out, the romantic glimmer of life in Germany dimmed and November came on like a sudden storm. The days transformed from perfect, golden-lit gems that sat lightly on my spirit to dreary, wet cloths that hung heavy around my shoulders.
Despite being a stereotypical early bird, I found it harder and harder to get out of bed. Even when I got out of bed, I found it difficult to stay upright for an entire day. The weight of living pushed me down.
Having struggled with depression since my teens, I found it oddly difficult to quantify how I felt. It wasn’t quite like being depressed. It was like being buried alive. Or maybe like being stuffed with weird, happiness-absorbing cotton balls. Like something had taken up residence in my chest cavity and was feeding on my will to be.
New to ex-pat life, I tried to explain it away as being lonely. I just needed some friends, right? Maybe I needed to get out of the house more? Perhaps spend a little time away from my computer and my kid?
But how could I? The sun didn’t rise until we were well on our way to preschool drop-off, and collided with the horizon again before 4:30pm — on days when we saw the sun at all. For days — weeks — at a time, there would be nothing but clouds. No sunrays to glint off of the ever-present puddles. No afternoon light to illuminate my 2:00 pm coffee run. Just drippy, dank clouds that spat down at the sad, hard earth.
Each day, I resolved to find myself. Every day, I swore I would relocate my sense of adventure. And each morning, I was assaulted by these twisty thoughts that made doing easy things — things that I loved — so hard. I routinely ended dinner by crying on the floor of the kitchen, saying that I wanted to go home. That this adventure sucked, that it made me feel broken.
I really thought maybe I was going to evaporate or disappear. It never occurred to me that the darkness in my brain was a direct result of the darkness outside — I’d never lived so far north before. I couldn’t have known how the short days would short-circuit my brain. It wasn’t until February, when I saw a few headlines about how the winter of 2012-13 was the darkest-ever in Germany, that I realized just how overwhelming and conniving the onslaught of seasonal depression could be.
Now in my third (and final) winter above 50 degrees north, I am prepared to fight the onslaught of the German gloom. A SAD (happy?) lamp is my sidekick, and Vitamin D is my elixir of mental stability. The days are short and the nights are long, but — armed with a little knowledge and perspective — this battle has also become part of my adventure. Bring it on, Old Man Winter.
Tags: depression, elizabeth bauman, seasonal affective disorder
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Oh, this is great and beautifully written. I get a terrible upswing in anxiety in the winter with a little side of depression. I was hoping because I’ve been taking D supplements it wouldn’t happen at all this year, but it’s already kicking my ass. I got a SAD lamp about a week ago, and I guess it’s too early to tell if it’s helping? I thought it was, but then I couldn’t sleep last night because a little congestion in my throat convinced me I couldn’t breathe and was dying so, um, I think it’s still happening. How long do they usually take to start working, successful SAD lamp-ers?
First: thanks!
Second: I noticed a difference after a couple of weeks when I got mine. The trick is to figure out when best to use it for you – they can sort of mess with your sleep schedule if you don’t time it just right. And it’s all about routine, just like the rise and fall of the sun. Spend time with your lamp at the same time every day (just upon wake up or in the early afternoon works best for me).
Also, don’t stop just because you don’t think it’s working. It can make things even twistier.
Finally, hey! We’re only a few days from the winter solstice! THE END OF THE DARKNESS IS NEAR(ish)!
Thanks! I’ll keep at it, I’ve been doing early morning. Though I can’t get too excited about the solstice at the moment because uuuugh it’s not even Christmas, and usually I feel the worst in late February-early March when the end is near but somehow sooooo far away. At least we will get a few more minutes of sunlight!
Keep at it for the better part of a month! It takes some time. It’s not a miracle cure but it has made a huge difference for me over the years in terms of giving me more solid footing to deal with SAD. Hope you have similar results!
[You probably know all of this already but just in case anyone else is thinking about getting one: try to sit with it under a foot away from you, don’t also have another source of bright light that your eyes are focused on (e.g., your computer screen or phone screen), try to do it at the same time every day, etc.]
Ahhh, German winter. The only thing keeping me from moving back to Germany. I lived in Wiesbaden as a child, and it didn’t bother me too much then– but when I spent a year in the Westerwald as a high school senior, oh boy. I’d come home from school and spend hours watching ski jumping or trash TV. And coughing, because of course I had a cough that lasted all winter, too.
The only that made up for it (and even then, only a little) was German Christmas. I fucking love Lebkuchen and Glühwein.
YUP. I’m really mourning leaving the markets behind, but it’s not stopping me from counting down the days until we move back to the US in the spring!
I love how there’s always ski jumping on in Europe. I like it when they do it on not-snow, even though it kind of freaks me out.
Dutch winter is also terrible. Less cold, but really wet and grey all the time. Although when it does get frozen-cold, people get SO EXCITED about ice skating, and that helps.
GLUEHWEIN!! i miss that stuff.
oh, man, I did a study abroad in Berlin fall semester one year. I was home before the solstice, but man, those late November/early December days were SHORT.
I really loved Berlin when I visited. It was June.
It is December in Canada and I can’t remember what the sun feels like on my skin. I remember seeing it, it came out for 20 minutes in the afternoon the Friday before last.
In an earlier discussion on here (the SAD comedy story that probably was the catalyst for this being here) someone said that for the SAD lamp to work you have to be really close to it, so I cradle it against my face every morning. I’ll let you know if it’s working come February.
I hate February.
But I thought they had fabulous Christmas markets in Germany? With fancy hot mulled wine? I totally believe you, I also live in the PNW where my therapy practice doubles around every November because everyone is wearing heavy boots and crying inexplicably. Winter sads are tough.
I am trying to convince girlfriend to spend future Christmases in Germany because Christmas markets, and she speaks passable German, and minimal family drama.
Also I love “the relentless tenacity that only prarie life can cultivate” so much- not entirely sure what it means, super like it.
The Christmas markets are great (hot wine and snacks abound), but they are not actually open on Christmas day. Plan to come the last week before Christmas, and there’s one in almost every town. My personal favorites are in Heidelberg and Michaelstadt.
The markets are just wonderful, but they don’t last forever… and then it’s just darkness. Ugh ugh ugh.
so this is my second winter in the PNW but the first after a long-term romantic relationship ended and this may sound weird but it is SO NICE to hear other people go through this. (particularly the “crying inexplicably” part.)
Winter in Germany 2012-2013 was the darkest winter I’ve lived through – I totally understand the wet cloth feeling. It’s like the gloom settles in late November and just doesn’t leave until April. And in Berlin the sun sets at 3:50 this week! When people hear I’m from Canada here, they always talk about the cold, but it’s the darkness that will get you, and there is only so much all the Gluhwein can do for you.
Lived for 10 years in England. Winter days were short and dark, yes, but it’s amazing how quickly Earth zips around that point in its orbit, and they start getting long again. And there’s nothing like being outside at 10pm at midsummer with the sun only just having set; totally makes up for it.
If only SAD-sufferers could bank summer sun for midwinter!
I remember that winter! It was my fourth Berlin winter and by far the worst. I distinctly remember the the day the sun came out after a solid 30 days of grey – 2:30pm on a Thursday. I stopped on the street and stood with my eyes closed facing the sun for a beautiful two minutes. When I opened my eyes, I saw people all around doing the same thing. It was SURREAL, but that winter….man. I’d have gone straight back home if that’d been my introduction to ex-pat life, so bravo to you for sticking it out!
Oh man, I actually just got back from 10 days in Germany (near Weisbaden actually – Frankfurt and Mannheim) and while I don’t suffer from SAD, I can totally see how that kind of winter would really mess a person up. It’s not easy to get excited about going outside or doing activities or…anything when it’s dark and cloudy all the time and humid and just warm enough that it rains instead of snows. Even when there’s glühwein.
Not that it’s actually any warmer or the days any longer here in NY – sunset tomorrow is 4:29pm – but somehow it feels so different when everything is clear and bright during the hours of daylight.
There has been no sun at all in Toronto for weeks, or when there is sun, it is weak and hidden. I am deeply sympathetic to you! I also want to go adventuring so badly.
i’m living in heidelberg right now which is only about an hour from you (i was in wiesbaden a few weeks ago actually!) and this is hitting so close to home right now man. i mean, i’m from england, so the darkness and dreariness isn’t really that new, but something about experiencing it far from home really confounds things. anyway. solidarität, basically!
<fist bump> I visit Heidelberg often, actually! One of my favorite German cities!
Natural lighting helps. Go to a place where there are lots of windows, or take a stroll outside. I get through winter sitting by the southfacing windows in our house.
Oh man, thanks for writing this and making me feel just a little less crazy. Chicago winters are usually sparkly and bracingly cold, but this one has been just grey and damp. I keep telling myself it’s not me, it’s not my life, it’s not my family making me miserable, it’s just the weather and it will pass. I have been depressed at lots of different points in my life, and in a way it’s the weirdest when I know I’m perfectly happy (as opposed to in a bad job, an unfamiliar place, or something else).
Fist-bump. I lived in Heidelberg in 2011-2012, and the sun came out once, for 15 minutes before it set, in all of November and December. My husband and I were taking 10,000x the recommended vitamin D dose and we still had SAD. I grew up in Winnipeg where it’s eye-searingly sunny all winter, and Germany made me heavily depressed. It was brutal.
GLUEHWEIN!! i miss that stuff.
so this is my second winter in the PNW but the first after a long-term romantic relationship ended and this may sound weird but it is SO NICE to hear other people go through this. (particularly the "crying inexplicably" part.)
Thank you for this: “It was like being buried alive. Or maybe like being stuffed with weird, happiness-absorbing cotton balls. Like something had taken up residence in my chest cavity and was feeding on my will to be.”
Several years ago, I moved from the Great Plains to a basement suite on Vancouver Island, and during that first autumn I had NO idea what hit me. It really did feel like my head was full of cotton, and like no amount of sleep was ever enough.
(I’m back on the prairies, but am living in a basement suite again. I’m glad that I still have my SAD lamp.)
I know I’ve talked about this before, but winter of 1999 in the PNW (three miles south of Canada) just about killed me.
It rained for 93 days. There was no sun for three months.
You could feel your body rusting.
I miss the sun. Chicago is so gray this year. I’m used to having my sunglasses freeze to my face. But this year, the sun is hidden by clouds that are keeping us a little warmer than usual. I’ll take the cold over the dreariness any day. It’s as if the whole city is in a bad mood. SAD lamps for everyone!
I miss the sun. Chicago is so gray this year. I'm used to having my sunglasses freeze to my face. But this year, the sun is hidden by clouds that are keeping us a little warmer than usual. I'll take the cold over the dreariness any day. It's as if the whole city is in a bad mood. SAD lamps for everyone!
I know Lake Erie isn’t as far north, but I live in a part of Ohio that has an old Army training ground/arsenal nearby. Why? Because they originally scouted the entire country by air (before radar) and decided to put the arsenal in the place THAT HAD THE MOST CONSISTENT CLOUD COVER for the MOST DAYS OF THE YEAR.
I have to turn the headlights on to light up the dashboard in my car just to see it …at 2 in the afternoon!
Thank you for the lamp advice, I just got one. For me the challenge is finding a time to sit there with it when it won’t blind the kids. They are a bit dramatic about it.