It’s 10:15 a.m. on Sunday morning, January 30, 2011. It’s sunny, about 68-degrees with a high of 75 degrees. I just rode my bike to the park with my dog – whom I have rained to run in front of me on my bike. I’m going to putz in the garden today.
I am happy.
I am telling you this not to rub it in. West Palm Beach in January is lovely. I am telling you this because I have felt your pain and, unlike the pain of childbirth, I have not forgotten it or those of you who suffer with it. Seasonal-affective disorder is one of the most crippling, insidious types of depression there is. It is like running that last two-tenths of a 26.2 mile marathon for about 4-6 months – depending on your latitude.
I know. I have done it. I was born in northwestern Wisconsin. It’s 17 degrees right now but it feels like 6 degrees. The high today will be 19. It’s cloudy – of course – and there will be only 9 hours and 45 minutes of daylight today, which means there will be 14 hours and 15 minutes of darkness. To say it is cloudy is a stretch. It’s more like someone painted the sky an opaque, flat industrial gray.