Seasonal Depression

Here’s what nobody tells you about seasonal depression: it’s not just feeling sad. It’s wanting to change things while simultaneously being unable to change things, and both feelings are completely real and happening at the exact same time.

It’s confusing as hell.

The Push-Pull That Makes No Sense

I wake up and think, “Today I’m going to do something different. Get out. See people. Be a person who exists in the world.”

And I mean it. I genuinely want that.

Then I think about actually leaving my room. Walking through the yard. Going into town. And something shifts. The anxiety kicks in—not as a fun personality quirk, but as a real, physical thing. My chest tightens. The world outside suddenly feels too big, too much, too peopley.

So I stay.

But staying doesn’t feel good either. The emptiness creeps in. That hollow feeling of another day passing while I’m just… here. Not living, just existing. The walls start feeling a little closer.

It’s a trap with no good exit. Inside feels empty. Outside feels overwhelming. And I’m stuck trying to figure out which version of “not okay” is more manageable today.

When Your Body Joins the Protest

The physical stuff is wild. Everything aches—not because I did anything, but because I didn’t do anything. My body is somehow exhausted from resting. How does that even work?

And the sun thing? That’s real. My body genuinely misses it. Not in a poetic way, but in a “something is clearly missing from my operating system” way. Like when your phone battery drains twice as fast because an app is broken. That’s me without sunlight. Just draining.

Mentally, I describe it as drowning because that’s what it feels like. Not dramatic movie drowning—just the slow kind where you’re treading water and getting tired and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep your head up.

The Chaos Truth

That saying about how if your surroundings are chaos, your mind becomes chaos? I hate how true that is.

I look around my room and see the disorder. Dishes I meant to take to the kitchen three days ago. Laundry that’s clean but lives on the chair now. Papers and random stuff covering every surface. And I can feel it making my brain messier. The clutter outside matches the clutter inside.

So I try to fix it. I make a plan. I’ll start with one thing—just one small thing.

But then I look at the scope of it all, and it feels massive. Impossible. Like I’m trying to bail water out of a sinking boat with a shot glass. I want to fix it. I start to fix it. And then I’m drowning in the effort itself.

The gap between “I should do this” and “I am physically doing this” feels like miles.

What This Actually Looks Like

Some days I make it outside. I do the thing. And yes, it helps a little, even though it’s hard.

Some days I clean one corner of one room, and that’s the victory.

Some days I open the curtains and let some light in, and that’s all I’ve got.

And some days? Some days I just survive the drowning feeling and call it done.

None of these days feel great, honestly. But they’re real. This is what seasonal depression actually looks like—not a villain you can defeat with positive thinking, but a real thing affecting real brain chemistry that makes normal tasks feel like climbing mountains.

The Honest Part

I’m writing this because I think we need more honesty about how this feels. Not the sanitized version. Not the “here’s how I overcame it with these three simple steps” version.

Just the real version: It’s hard. The paradox of needing change but feeling trapped is exhausting. The body aches are annoying. The mental fog is frustrating. The chaos-breeds-chaos thing is unfortunately accurate.

But also, we’re figuring it out. Day by day, sometimes hour by hour. We’re doing what we can with what we have, even when what we have feels like not much.

If you’re in this right now—stuck between empty and overwhelmed, trying to combat the chaos while feeling like you’re drowning in it—you’re not imagining it. It’s real, it’s hard, and you’re not alone in it.

And if today all you managed was getting through today? That actually counts for something.

Tomorrow we’ll try again. Or we won’t. We’ll see how it goes.

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Note: If seasonal depression is seriously impacting your life, talking to a doctor or therapist can help. Light therapy, vitamin D, medication, or other treatments might make a real difference. You don’t have to just push through this alone.