CW: This article discusses suicide. Please refer to the end of the article for on- and off-campus resources. 

I hate the term “seasonal depression.” Every spring, as the days grow longer and the nights become warmer, I find myself irritated by the influx of people in my life claiming to be cured by a mere extra hour of sunlight or the budding of a cherry blossom. That’s not to say swapping out your winter coat for a T-shirt and soaking up the extra vitamin D can’t bring you a little extra joy, but labeling your winter blues “depression” seems a little extreme.

The casual term “seasonal depression” that frequently gets thrown around also suggests that the mental, emotional or physical impacts the weather can have on somebody simply fade away as the seasons change. The way we talk about it tells the story that as the grass gets greener, I’m supposed to be happier. 

But, for me, the grass is always greener on the other side of something I can never seem to overcome. And the way others seemingly overcome “depression” after a few hours in the sun on Healy Lawn worsens this feeling. The term “seasonal depression” is inaccurately and too frequently used to describe the typical winter blues and lower energy levels that most people feel in the fall and winter; we need to stop mislabeling this feeling and recognize the consequences of doing so. 

Real seasonal depression, or the medical condition known as “Seasonal Affective Disorder” — aptly referred to as SAD — extends beyond the typical feelings of winter gloom. It amounts to a grave statistic that is often overlooked because of the way we misunderstand the term: Suicide rates are highest in the spring, which counters what we might expect. 

To better understand this phenomenon, I asked my friends at Georgetown University why spring — the season of light and rebirth — brings about more suicides than any other time of the year. While they all have different experiences with mental health and well-being, they all came up with a similar idea: When other people seem to be getting happier, those with SAD might wonder why they aren’t.

Taken a step further, it becomes clearer why we need to reframe the way we talk about our winter blues. When we casually label ourselves as “depressed” in the face of people who suffer from a mood disorder, we risk equating a temporary shift in mood with a serious medical condition. And when we seem to overcome our “depression,” it makes those who struggle with a real SAD seem like they might never overcome theirs. 

And even for people who suffer from depression without experiencing suicidal thoughts, hearing someone talk about the warm weather as a cure for depression feels invalidating. Just because it’s no longer freezing cold and the sun doesn’t set at 5 p.m. doesn’t mean my stressors — anything from struggling with my school work to my self-identity — disappear, too.

So, we should remember that, like anything else in life, the way we talk about things can have a real impact on others — whether we realize it or not. Calling our annoyance with the cold and preference for the warm an indication of seasonal depression can invalidate those who actually experience SAD and take attention away from those who might be in need of legitimate help. 

And while this requires us to reflect on our own shortcomings and misuse of these terms, it is just as important to inform those around you. Speak up when you see someone perpetuating this myth around “seasonal depression.” Share how this term can leave people who suffer from SAD feeling invalidated. If we want to help, we can’t just change our internal discourse — we must change the conversations we have with our peers and family.

By making the simple change of not referring to the common springtime pick-me-up as a sign of overcoming “seasonal depression,” we can create a more nuanced understanding of mental health and help those struggling with Seasonal Affective Disorder get the support they need. 

Resources: On-campus resources include Health Education Services (202-687-8949) and Counseling and Psychiatric Service (202-687-6985); additional off-campus resources include 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline (988).

Dylan Goral is a first-year in the College of Arts & Sciences. This is the fourth installment of his column, “Mental Health Matters.”