Autumn: the Arrival of Magic and Darkness

Now that we’ve entered autumn in the northern atmosphere (though it doesn’t quite feel like yet), and are about one month from the end of daylight savings, I need a moment to discuss what the arrival of autumn means to me.

Don’t get me wrong: autumn is, by far, my favorite season. I’m not sweating or freezing to death, I actually have a fashion sense, and there’s nothing better than a rainy morning with nothing to do but write.

Some people may call spring a magical time, with how the world wakes up after the chill of winter, but autumn is even more magical to me. Nature shifts into a kaleidoscope of colors, and the breeze in the air brings an extra pep into myself. In autumn, I feel comfortable in my own skin.

And, even better: in autumn, I don’t constantly suffer from allergies.

But, there are some downsides to autumn’s arrival, and most of them come with the end of daylight savings.

The autumnal equinox represents the day in which every point on earth has an equal amount of day and night. After that day, darkness sneaks into our lives, and for me, the end of daylight savings fully represents the period of 5 o’ clock sunsets.

And, as we approach winter, the days of darkness begin to take a toll on me.

Now, I haven’t been formally diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder, but when winter arrives, the changes are noticeable. I’m even more tired than usual, I lose interest in the things I enjoy, and it’s as if I just completely slow down.

Last winter was particularly brutal, as there were times I could barely make it through the day. It was like my ability to function as a person was slipping through my fingers, even though I did everything possible to get out in the sun while it was up.

While last year I had the advantage of my roommate’s service dog, this winter, I have to do without. So, what can be done to fight the beast that is the darkness of winter?

Many countries near the Arctic have their own philosophies of comfort during the winter, such as the Danish concept of hygge, but many boil down to one concept: when things feel hopeless and dark, surround yourself with things that bring hope and light.

For me, this means my writing and video games, but also cooking for others. Cooking is a way I show people I care, and it’s a way for me to slow down and feel something tangible, no matter what I make.

(As much I would love to say my emotions over my writing are tangible, I unfortunately have not figured out how to touch my emotions)

Also, I surround myself with hot chocolate. It’s the closest thing I have to a vice, though I will argue any day that my hot chocolate habits are not any vice. But, being able to take a walk around campus with a warm cup of hot chocolate in my hands is comforting, even when it’s cold out.

Of course, hot chocolate itself is not therapy, and small things alone will not stave away all of the darkness. But that doesn’t mean the little things don’t matter, because the little things bring me the energy to do some other little things, and suddenly, those little things turn into a large thing.

So, with the arrival of winter soon, surround yourself with hope and light, and know while the darkness may not be fun, we’re all in this together.