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I remember being surprised when, years ago, I heard that suicide rates jumped in the spring. The more I thought about it though, and the more \u00a0years\u2014and seasons\u2014I live through, the less this statistic surprises me. I am not, nor have I ever been, clinically depressed or suicidal; however, I do find myself feeling down and \u00a0out more frequently in the summer\u2014the months of sunshine and bathing suits and kids laughing in large groups\u2014than in the winter. And \u00a0I actually believe it is these very components\u2014the sunshine and bathing suits and kids laughing in big groups, the ones that are supposed to make summer so \u00a0fun<\/em>\u2014are the very same ones that make it… well, not so fun for me.<\/p>\n First of all, I am a writer and an introvert. Winter’s cold and snow and ice allow me to hole up at home with a book and my computer without guilt. It’s too cold to go outside<\/em>, I say to my friends, gleefully. And they seem to agree. There are fewer parties, events, or, as I prefer to think of them, reasons to feel left out and\/or things to feel pressured into attending. What’s more, in the winter, whatever parties there are, are less visible for the simple reason that they take place inside. No one’s barbecuing on the lawn or kicking back in the park, playing basketball or frolicking with their dog. Especially in Iowa.<\/p>\n In the summer, people can’t be so easily avoided. Which is a good thing, in part: I readily admit that I often need to be forced into social interaction. But at the same time, as an introvert, I need time alone, to rest and recharge. Without that time, I turn into a kind of whiny, sullen zombie\u2014and it’s harder to get that time in the summer, when everyone seems to want to hang out for hours on end, by the lake or the beach, and when outdoor parties seem to happen every night. (Am I sounding like the grinch?? Well, I kind of am, I guess.) \u00a0The problem is, if I do turn down invitations\u2014to a party or a hang out\u2014I start to feel guilty: \u00a0I think, I’ll regret this later<\/em> or I’m a bad friend<\/em>. \u00a0It’s what they call a vicious cycle.<\/p>\n What else? I prefer to exercise in the cold, bundled up, than in the heat. I’m extremely pale and sensitive to sun exposure. Oh, and, perhaps worst of all, summer\u2014with its pool parties and the zillion magazine articles on “How to Get a Bikini Ready Body”\u2014makes me painfully aware of the ways in which my body differs from others’, re-triggering a lot of old insecurities. Every year it gets harder for me to adjust to wearing summer clothes\u2014the first few times I put on a bikini, I feel pasty and fat, even when, up until that moment, I would’ve said I felt \u00a0great about my body. What’s more, it’s nearly impossible, as a young woman wearing clothes that are comfortable in summer heat, to feel desexualized, to feel shielded from the male gaze. I notice that I get cat-called more in the summer and it upsets me. I noticed that worry more about my weight, that I wish my boobs were a cup size bigger, my waist, an inch smaller. I miss the option of hiding \u00a0behind a cardigan, of kind of ignoring my body because I can, because it’s all wrapped up anyway.<\/p>\n And then all of this is \u00a0exacerbated by the fact that \u00a0being depressed in the summer is alienating. \u00a0This is not what you’re supposed to feel. And, \u00a0according to Instagram, no one else does feel it. They’re all out having a blast in their bikinis in the sun.<\/p>\n Do you get summer SADs?<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I remember being surprised when, years ago, I heard that suicide rates jumped in the spring. The more I thought about it though, and the more \u00a0years\u2014and seasons\u2014I live through, the less this statistic surprises continue reading<\/span>