I consider myself a fall-and-winter guy. (Blame it on my Texan roots — summer’s blisteringly hot and springtime means allergies.) I love watching the leaves turn orange and take flight; I love pumpkin spice lattes and peppermint mochas; I study best on second floor Myrin while delicate snowflakes gently waltz along outside. I go into every October revved up and ready to indulge in all the things!
But, like many people, I also find myself snapping at people I care about; I self-isolate; I start regarding every minute task and assignment as some insurmountable summit I will never, ever scale.
This isn’t an experience unique to me. Especially for college students, this time of year — say, mid-October through December — can be a pressure cooker of projects, essays, performances, and preparation for finals. It’s also registration season: while already in the thick of it with regards to this semester, we’re also forced to look ahead at next semester and start doing the mental calculus for our future workload, too. Not to mention, there’s an entire form of clinical major depression called Seasonal Affective Disorder that, for most who have it, strikes in the fall or winter, particularly as the days get shorter and sunlight becomes scarcer. Like all forms of depression, it can be completely invisible — and it can affect anyone.
It’s not just us, either — every assignment we do is written, facilitated, and graded by professors. They write every prompt, every quiz, every final. (And that’s without even going into their administrative, advising, and service responsibilities.) When students are busy, so are our faculty. Many staff members, too, have more on their plates than usual; the end of the semester can mean more events, budgetary concerns, [TK. one more thing. help.], on top of preparation for next semester, like coordinating registration and setting calendars. In short, it’s a challenging time for everyone in our community.
I, for one, don’t like it when I’m sad and everyone around me is sad. So, what do we do? Well, I say we fight. I say we fight hard.
Fighting means intentionally approaching each other with kindness and understanding. If someone seems more terse than usual, or if they lash out uncharacteristically, reach out. Ask them how they’re doing. If we feel ourselves being grumpy or rude, we can excuse ourselves to take a deep breath or get a sip of water. There’s nothing wrong with admitting to being in a bad mood, and a brief, “Sorry, it’s not you, I’m just upset,” can save a friendship. An earnest, “Are you okay?” can make a massive difference.
Fighting also means taking care of ourselves, physically and mentally. It can be hard to find time to eat and sleep during the semester, and hydration can feel like another chore, but it’s critical to make time for them. We also all need breaks, alone time, and socialization; without them, we burn out. It’s okay to make time for yourself, and to lean on your friends and community when you need help. That might mean taking fifteen minutes and enjoying a coffee without doomscrolling or working on homework, or asking a friend if you can vent about your day. It also might mean sending an email to Wellness to ask about setting up a therapy appointment, or stopping in at their drop-in counselling hours, which can be found on the Wellness Center website. Being kind to ourselves is good for us, and it’s also good for our community; you can’t help others if you yourself are drowning.
