The Hidden Struggle of Summer SAD: Why Sunshine Isn’t Always Bliss
There’s something almost ironic about feeling low when the sun is high. Summer, with its endless daylight and vibrant energy, is often painted as the season of joy. But for some, it’s anything but. Personally, I think this contradiction is what makes summer SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) so fascinating—and so misunderstood. While we’ve all heard of the winter blues, the idea that summer can trigger similar feelings of despair is still a blind spot in our collective awareness.
One thing that immediately stands out is how counterintuitive this condition feels. How can the same sunlight that lifts so many spirits crush others? From my perspective, it’s a reminder that mental health is far more complex than we often acknowledge. The pressure to feel happy during summer—to be happy—only amplifies the struggle. Mark Manning, a 38-year-old from Calgary, captures this perfectly when he says, ‘I find it a lot easier to move through the world in winter than I do in summer.’ What this really suggests is that the expectation to thrive in summer can be as suffocating as the heat itself.
What many people don’t realize is that summer SAD isn’t just about disliking hot weather. It’s a clinical condition with distinct symptoms: insomnia, anxiety, restlessness. Norman Rosenthal, the psychiatrist who coined the term SAD, points out that these symptoms are tied to disruptions in our circadian rhythms. If you take a step back and think about it, this makes sense—our bodies are finely tuned to balance light and darkness, and extreme heat can throw that balance off entirely. But here’s the kicker: summer SAD is still vastly understudied compared to its winter counterpart. This lack of research means fewer treatments, less awareness, and more stigma.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the role of climate change in all this. Rosenthal predicts that as temperatures rise globally, summer SAD will become more prevalent. This raises a deeper question: Are we prepared to address the mental health consequences of a warming planet? It’s not just about physical discomfort; it’s about the psychological toll of living in a world that feels increasingly hostile to our well-being.
Then there’s the social aspect. August Winter, a musician from Vancouver, describes the fear of missing out (FOMO) that comes with summer SAD. ‘It’s this general feeling of like I’m not a part of something that it seems like everyone else is really enjoying,’ he says. In my opinion, this highlights a broader cultural issue: our tendency to equate summer with happiness. We’re so busy glorifying the season that we forget not everyone experiences it the same way. Simon Sherry, a clinical psychologist, calls this a ‘counter-stereotypic problem,’ one that often goes unnoticed because it doesn’t fit our expectations.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how summer SAD intersects with societal norms. The pressure to ‘make the most’ of summer—to fill every weekend with picnics, beach trips, and barbecues—can feel like a burden for those already struggling. Manning describes it as ‘a strange level of anxiety’ added to an already difficult situation. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the very things meant to bring us joy can do the opposite.
If you’re wondering what can be done, the answer is complicated. Since summer SAD is less understood, treatment options are limited. But there are small steps: blackout curtains, air conditioning, cognitive behavioral therapy. Sherry suggests ‘behavioral activation,’ which means finding ways to engage with the season on your own terms. For Manning, that’s a kiddie pool in the backyard or a trip to the movie theater. It’s not about forcing happiness, but about finding moments of ease in a season that feels relentless.
In my opinion, the most important takeaway here is the need for empathy. Summer SAD isn’t just a quirk or a preference—it’s a real condition that deserves recognition. As Winter puts it, ‘It’s nice to be able to actually be honest with my friends and be like, “Yeah, this is a harder time of year for me. And that’s OK.”’ That honesty, that willingness to acknowledge the struggle, is where healing begins.
So, the next time you hear someone say they’re not a fan of summer, don’t brush it off. They might be dealing with something far deeper than a preference for cooler weather. Summer SAD is a reminder that mental health doesn’t follow a calendar—and neither should our compassion.
