I am exquisitely sensitive to light. When the light fades in the winter, I fade with it; bright sunny days and light-filled rooms make me feel happy and alive. I crave the sensation of bright light so much that I can't even stand to wear sunglasses -- they make the world look too dreary.

When I think back about my past, those times in my life that were depressing and stressful always appear in my mind's eye in twilight tones, gloom-filled and shadowy-dark. I know that many of those occasions actually took place in the bright light of day, but my memory colors them grey and lightless. The happy times? Technicolor-bright and bathed in sunlit glow. That's just how my mind works, apparently.

So it's no surprise that I was diagnosed with SAD as an adult -- my brain really does react to light in a powerfully emotional way, and my brainsoup of neurochemicals apparently needs solar panels and klieg lights just to function properly.

And so I abhor winter, cloudfilled days, windowless rooms; I seek out and embrace open vistas, sunny skies, bright white light. I celebrate light in all its forms. I light a candle, but still curse the darkness.