Ihave always hated November. As soon as daylight saving time is withdrawn, darkness at 5 p.m. drains me. I start counting down to the winter solstice immediately. With the approach of December 21 prominent in my mind, I look forward to the celestial juncture when light will last a bit longer each day. This awareness gives me a quiet spark, a portion of zest that starts replenishing me. It’s no fun feeling bleak.

Every year, my reaction embarrasses me. To be so dependent on light! Knowing there’s a name for this sensitivity— seasonal affective disorder— is at once a relief and an insult. OK, others have this same tendency in their neurobiology that has earned a place in psychiatry ’s diagnostic manual. But is it really a disorder to be so deeply affected by the insufficiency of winte

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