Growing up, I never particularly cared for the “outside” world. As far as I was concerned, the grass was spikey, the bugs were disgusting, the birds were obnoxiously loud, and the sun was a culprit to many of my issues such as sweat, heat rashes, and an itchy scalp. I would take nature for granted because I never saw much significance in it. It seemed to inconvenience me more as a child than it seemed to benefit me. That was until I developed SAD.

As the winter months seemed to drag on forever, I began to feel less and less motivated. My body ached and I didn’t know why. I began locking out my suitemate and ignoring everyone’s calls. Classes seemed like something that was a part of my past life; I hadn’t attended one in so long. My grades were suffering. I spent an endless amount of time just staring at the ceiling, never thinking about anything, and sometimes crying because I had absolutely no idea what was wrong with me.

I felt my relationships beginning to suffer due to my moods and lack of empathy and compassion for anything. I had absolutely no idea what was wrong with me. There was no tragic event, no bullying, nothing that overtook my mind and caused me to feel this way. I was happy just a couple days ago. What had suddenly changed?

One morning, I decided I would attempt to attend my biology II class for the first time in weeks. I slowly got dressed, trying to practice my fake smile in case anyone asked me how I was. I felt like I had a crowd of undetectable, extremely strong people tugging my arms backwards, and as I tried to fight them off, I grew more and more exhausted with fighting myself. I didn’t regret finally making it to class, though. The topic of the day was seasonal affective disorder, or SAD, defined as “depression associated with late autumn and winter and thought to be caused by lack of light.” I felt that sudden epiphany moment, and I finally understood the past few days and why I had been feeling this way.

Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD, affects an estimated 10 million Americans. And I just happened to be one of them.

When the days became shorter, depression crept into my body and overtook me. The sunless sky and dark clouds become a barrier to my entire life, restricting me from mental and emotional freedom. I felt like a prisoner.

A few days after I found out what was going on with me, I dragged myself from my bed like I had every other morning, grunting and groaning at the fact that I had a class so early (it really wasn’t early). I still felt the same as I had the past few days, but the minute I walked outside, I knew it would soon change.

Despite the fact that there was a chance of me being late, I plopped down on the benches between two residence halls to embrace the warmth of the early afternoon. This may sound ridiculous, but I immediately felt better! I grinned like the Cheshire cat as the warm breeze tangled what was then my long, unkempt hair. Some even got stuck to my lip gloss, but I didn’t seem to mind that day.

I decided to finally look around at my surroundings, and realized that before then, I had never understood how beautiful my “home away from home” really was. Although most of the grass was still stiff and brown from the chilly winter, I noticed small patches of new, green growth popping up. There were no leaves on the barren trees, but I heard a rustling nearby. A tiny squirrel the size of my hand ran along the ground and stood up on its back legs to stare at me. I did my typical, “Awwhhh!” that I do at all baby animals and watched it scurry away at the high pitch and echo of my voice. This gave me a much-needed reason to laugh.

I felt like my sense of hearing became acute. I could suddenly hear every backpack bouncing, the books shifting inside them. The shoes scuffling across the concrete didn’t annoy me for once, and I was enjoying the music coming from the headphones of the person sitting a few benches away.

By this time, I had begun to sweat and my legs were sticking to the bench. I had this sudden urge to lie down, so I put my backpack over the arm rail of one side and stretched out. I felt like I had the most perfect view from this most awkward and random spot. My eyes began to shapeshift the mousse-like clouds into all sorts of things --- whales, pirate ships, guitars, everything! Flocks of black birds flew over me, and for once, I didn’t fear that their poop would land on my forehead.

I closed my eyes and wondered why I had taken nature for granted all this time. I was beginning to find every aspect – even the bugs – as something useful and beautiful. Everything suddenly had meaning. My mind wandered further away as I thought about what it was like to fly among the flock of birds and look down at the world below. I realized that with that perspective, everything must seem so small. But the truth is, we are small compared to this big world. I was curious of what life was like beyond the tops of the broccoli-like trees and even beyond our Earth...

Then I fell asleep – finally happy, warm, and thinking about things beyond the cold comforter in my room and an Indian song that had become an “earbug.” I was finally at peace within myself.

Although I’m not what one would call a “tree hugger,” I had finally realized after those months of winter blues that I could enjoy the rays that had once been the absolute bane of my existence as a teenager. The first sunny day of spring after that treacherous winter felt as if a weight had been lifted from me --- physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Now every time I go outside on a warm, bright day, I just smile. I soak it in.

Because I know that without those blinding beams, I would truly miss myself.