Do you feel it too?

At the end of September, the leaves begin to fall, the light becomes muted and gray, and the cool air rolls in with a smell you’ve always noticed, but never been able to name. You begin to leave work in the early darkness, tucking your chilly fingers into the sleeves of your sweater.

If you’re like me, autumn is a time of nostalgia, melancholia, and introspection. It’s a reminder that all things come to an end, even the longest, stickiest hot days of summer, when your freedom felt cast so wide it seemed it would carry on forever.

In the summer, it’s easy to forget you’re anything but one with the universe; you can leave your coat at home and run barefoot through the grass and feel as though you’re swimming in the heat.

But autumn comes, and you remember that you’re only a visitor on this planet; there’s no thermostat for you to turn up as you please, no curtain of clouds you can draw open to let in the light. It’s the season where nature tucks itself in to prepare for loss. You are confronted, once again, with inevitable, inescapable change.

Confronting change vs. wallowing in autumn nostalgia

“How the heart feels a languid grief… In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?” — Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Change is difficult for many people, myself included. Even positive change doesn’t come without a desperate kind of clinging to the past, a panicked turning away from the new and unfamiliar.

During the autumnal period of transition between summer and winter, nature forces change upon us, and the protective emotional reaction is to cling to what we know: our memories, traditions, and nostalgic longing for the past.

And as we get older, these changes become more pronounced and frightening; the days of jumping into piles of leaves, carving pumpkins, and apple picking as children fade away, and we’re left with bittersweet longing for the good old days — but clinging to these memories only makes it more difficult to move on from them.

“Some people respond to change in a way that’s similar to how they respond to a significant loss — with grief,” says Melissa Gratias, Ph.D. “Their feelings are normal and understandable, but to be resilient and happy, these individuals need to move through grief toward acceptance.”

Seasonal Affective Disorder, aptly shortened to SAD, is a type of depression that typically begins in the late fall and abates in the spring. When we talk about autumn nostalgia, autumn blues, the season of melancholy, SAD is often what we’re really talking about.

Having dealt with seasonal depression for years — without fail, it typically begins in late October to early November for me — I’ve learned that becoming comfortable with change and focusing on the present is the key to enjoying the season for what it is and keeping my heart warm through winter.

Coping with seasonal SADness

Everyone must undergo change. From the rapid growth spurts of our youth to the incremental, day-to-day changes we may make in our careers, change is a fact of life.

Trying to avoid or reverse change is a fool’s errand, one that will sour your life with endless, futile grappling for control. Instead, if you can learn to cope with these changes in a helpful and self-expansive manner, you can use them to create forward momentum and growth.

Even if you don’t meet the criteria to be diagnosed with seasonal depression, autumn still presents an opportunity for everyone to reconnect with themselves, make space for self-care, and be mindful of whatever low moods might surface in response to the season of transition.

Talk to your friends and take an active part in becoming part of a strong, healthy community; often, the connections we form with others are the greatest balm against depression and anxiety.

Go outside, even if you dislike the cold. Find little things to be happy about and don’t waste too much energy on mourning the summer weather. Take productive steps to move your life forward, rather than remaining stuck in the past.

Change happens—and autumn is just one of the yearly reminders of that fact. Instead of focusing on what you’ve lost, focus on what you have in front of you: a tableful of squash and corn, a crimson leaf, a friend, a book, a soft sweater, a warm cup of cider.