wonderful light

Say "no" to seasonal depression.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” This has been true of the past five years, but particularly of 2025.

Blessings have abounded. I got a new job, saw the ocean often, bought my dream instrument from one of my favorite musicians, bobbed my hair, made countless new friends, watched The Royal Tenenbaums for the first time, started working out, and saw Bob Dylan in concert.

But sometimes all I remember are the neighbors I miss, the friends I lost, the home I loved, the house I now live in, the driving test I failed, the milestones I feel I ought to have reached…

I forget what a black hole the week between Christmas and the new year can be. After waking up exhausted on Boxing Day, I drink coffee and eat chocolate on the couch for days, only to find myself tireder still on New Year’s Eve. Ten seconds of adrenaline launch me into January, where, shockingly, all my problems still exist as an obstacle to the execution of my ambitious resolutions.

I appreciate what this Time magazine article has to say about making lofty resolutions in the dead of winter. Even the squirrels obey the instinct to hibernate, but not us. Instead, we expect ourselves to have the most will power and to be the most emotionally resilient when it is biologically most difficult to do so. We mistake “the winter of despair” for “the spring of hope.”

But what if inspirational new goals were a way to combat seasonal depression? What if I need more suitable goals rather than none at all? The Time magazine article offers practical suggestions. Interestingly, the first was to prioritize a quiet morning routine of prayer and time in the Word. (I didn’t expect this.) That’s the best advice. Other good ideas include going on a morning walk, picking up a new hobby, and rethinking your relationship with blue light.

My resolutions for the new year will be gentle ones. I intend to go on morning walks, work out consistently, drink salt water, consume less sugar and conventional dairy products, cut down on my screen time, and sleep strategically.

There are a dozen specific goals that I hope to achieve in 2026. But I have never made much progress by setting impossible standards for myself. The more urgently obsessive I am, the faster I burn out.

The holiday season and January are the hardest times of the year for me. The fact that they occur consecutively doesn’t help. Seasonal depression is real, but it shouldn’t be a excuse for procrastination and despair. I know because I often try to use it as one. How can I experience joy, much less spread it, when the sun sets at so early an hour that I can feel its absence in my bones?

Addressing Christians, 1 Peter 2:9 states that “you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” This brings to mind all that C.S. Lewis had to say about the distinction between joy and happiness or pleasure. Happiness may be contrived, and depends on external circumstances. Joy is miraculous and of the Lord. Though it is the rarer commodity, we desire joy more. A beautiful discovery is that Jesus offers not only salvation, but the possibility of joy in this life. If the “wonderful light” of Christ is sufficient to illuminate eternity, surely it can call the Christian out of January’s darkness into unimaginable joy.

It’s important to understand this spiritual truth before you can appreciate the practical blessings of the season. If I’m honest, I have so much to look forward to in January. But pleasure without joy will never be enough.

A good resolution might be to read Lewis’ Surprised by Joy this month. It’s what I intend to do. Pleasure is fleeting, though I’m blessed with an abundance of luxuries (books to read, coffee to drink, a world to explore.) Joy is what sustains me.