Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)
When the Light Fades: Naming the Fear in Seasonal Affective Disorder
As the seasons change and the light begins to fade, many people brace themselves for the quiet, heavy weight that often arrives with late autumn and winter. For some, this is more than a case of the “winter blues.” It’s Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), a form of depression that follows a seasonal pattern—most commonly found in the colder, darker months.
But what I’ve been noticing more and more in my practice is that SAD doesn’t just affect mood—it stirs up fear.
Not fear of the dark or of winter itself but something more internal and difficult to name.
It’s the fear of slipping—of losing momentum, clarity, or emotional balance. Clients often describe it as a kind of dread, a knowing that no matter how well things have been going, the season will bring with it a loss of control or capability. That the light they’ve worked so hard to find will start to dim again, both outside and within.
Some fear that the emotional fog will return and cloud their thinking. Others fear they’ll fall behind at work or lose connection with their motivation. There’s often a quiet shame embedded in this experience:
“I should be able to push through.”
“Why can’t I keep up like everyone else?”
“What if this means I’m not really okay?”
These are not just passing thoughts—they are deeply rooted in our longing for stability, our drive for productivity and our hope to feel like we’re in control of our lives. And when the season shifts, these parts of us can feel deeply unsettled.
But here’s the truth: You are not broken. You are responding to something real.
The body and brain are deeply connected to rhythms of light, warmth and activity. When those external conditions change, it’s natural for our internal systems to react. For those who already live with anxiety, depression, or chronic stress, the shift in seasons can hit especially hard.
So what do we do with this fear?
We name it.
We create space to talk about it, without shame.
We remind ourselves and each other that struggling in winter doesn’t make us weak—it makes us human.
We build rituals of light, connection and care to anchor us through the darker months.
That might look like therapy. Or light therapy. Or saying no to extra demands. It might be as small as keeping a candle lit while you work, or taking a walk during the brightest part of the day. It could even be reaching out to someone else and saying, “Hey, this season is hard for me too.”
Because when we name the fear, it loses some of its power. And when we share it, we remember we’re not alone.
The shift in seasons doesn’t just dim the light—it can dim our sense of control. But with support, awareness and gentleness, we can move through it together.