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When Winter’s Got You Down: Hacks for Managing Seasonal Affective Disorder
It’s February 2012. I’m sitting on the couch in my Brooklyn apartment facing off with a $119 10,000-lux light box. Thirty minutes of daily exposure are supposed to convince me that winter isn’t just eight months of filthy sidewalk snow, but the light box only reminds me of those Harry Harlow experiments from the ’50s: infant rhesus monkeys separated from their mothers, clinging to synthetic surrogates. Every morning, I plug in my synthetic sun, but my brain isn’t fooled. The black hole of lethargy, carb-craving, and despair continues to swallow me up.
