Oh the weather outside...

Well, it's that time of year again. Yes, folks, it's time for the yearly update on my battle with Seasonal Affective Disorder. That's right! SAD.

It should be noted that this is a self-diagnosis made by, well, me. I consider myself a qualified psychologist, having spent years reading advice columns in magazines and newspapers, studying literary criticism, and watching a fair amount of Dr. Phil and Oprah. And, as such, I feel able to diagnose myself as suffering from SAD.

My battle with SAD started last year during my first winter in the Midwest. It was a time that found me questioning the reason for total darkness at 4:30pm, cursing like a sailor at the cruel Illinois wind, and spending an inordinate number of hours conducting on-line research in an effort to cure my illness.

On-line research proved only moderately helpful because SAD is an actual problem, requiring the ability to gain access to equipment that only real-live doctors or tanning bed operators can get, as the first cure I found was light therapy. Not having any source of light therapy myself and not wanting to risk skin cancer (or becoming the owner of a lot of creepy coconut-smelling tan booster) by heading to the tanning salon, I decided my best bet would be the grocery store. It's light; it's bright; it's full of cheesy music from the 80s that really speaks to my SAD-afflicted soul. So, I tried that out. It seemed to work pretty well, though I ended up spending a lot of time at the local grocery in the middle of the night.

I also ended up heading to the local Wal-Mart looking for light. This just ended with me contemplating the use of synthetic fabrics in the lingerie department but also thinking that sparkles could be a sexy addition to any girl's trousseau, a pretty good indicator that I was heading in a downward spiral the end of which was nowhere in sight.

In truth, I sort of lied about this being the first cure I spotted. There was one before that, but I almost needed a therapist to get over the trauma induced upon reading about it. The cure was found on some family-friendly site. They suggested playing board games. Those who know me well understand the trauma. Those who don't should keep my wine glass perpetually filled at a party and then, after a few hours, ask how it was to be an only child. Specifically, reference Pictionary.

So, anyways, I know this all may sound silly, but I really do hate this time of year in the Midwest, and I find it almost impossible to be cheery when it's so grey outside. Usually, I just want to shuffle around my apartment in my jammies, wishing I was somewhere warm with blue skies.

On the up-side, I just have a few more years of this. And, like my mom said, "Just imagine how bad it would be if you lived somewhere really cold. Like Alaska."