The first thing you notice about the end of summer where I live is the turning of the heather. The hills explode in a covering of pinks, magentas, bubblegums, violets and purples in August, then slowly lose their vibrancy like an old t-shirt after too many washes as September marches on towards October. Uni terms start just as the first leaves are turning yellow, and the woodlands look more jaundiced than lush. Then one day, you’re walking down the street and step onto a brown, crispy leaf and you realise: summer is over.

Loads of people love autumn. Positively rejoice in it. Look at your Instagram stories – some people can’t wait to take their jumpers out of the drawer, and drink pumpkin-spiced drinks, and bake cinnamon buns and Halloween stuff and get cosy and watch films and light candles. The whole hygge concept, which crept briefly from Scandinavia into our own consciousness about five years back, is still a massive deal in marketing. And then when people get bored of autumn, no worries: nature rolls out the frost. The snow. The ice. Out with the pumpkin drinks, in with the gingerbread, insta posts of dogs playing in snow and sledging and Christmas nights out. Loads of people love winter too.

But the end of summer is truly a difficult time for many of us. I don’t mean to put a downer on other people’s enjoyment. After all, we all must hold onto what joy we can in a world where so much in our lives feels increasingly outwith our control. I am genuinely pleased for people who like winter. Objectively, I do see the attraction of the cosy, warming, tasty stuff that comes with the changing of the season, and the beauty of nature. I even appreciate the need for winter as a form of renewal – out with the old, so we can once again bring in the new in spring. At one level, I understand it. But in truth I envy those people, because try as I do every single year, I just can’t convince myself the coming of winter is a good thing.

To me, the end of the warm, bright months we’re blessed with in Scotland marks the falling of a dark curtain that won’t lift for many, many months.  Quite literally, this silly little island, along with the rest of the continent and indeed the northern hemisphere, is being tilted away from the sun, shortening our days and heralding long, cold, damp, dark nights. Losing the warmth and, most importantly, the abundance of light feels like real grief to me. If summer represents life and light, winter is the harbinger of darkness and death. Driving through the landscape, the trees are bare and the green shoots of spring seem like a distant dream. No matter how many cinnamon candles I sniff, or seasonal lattes I try, I can’t shake the feeling that I am sliding into darkness.

Just as some people love winter, and some don’t mind it, not everyone hates it as much as I do. Part of the explanation for how I feel is that I live with a condition called Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). It’s a form of depression – not just ordinary sadness – that generally aligns with the winter months. It is a proper illness, diagnosed by a GP. SAD means I feel tired more. I sleep for far longer than I do in summer. I lose interest in the things I enjoy most. I feel grumpy a lot of the time. I struggle to concentrate. I get upset more easily. On some days, I feel hopeless, like the winter will last forever – even though I know rationally, of course, that it won’t.

There is still a great deal science needs to learn about SAD. We don’t know exactly what causes it, and we therefore struggle to find effective relief from it. As someone who’s been through the rollers with this many times on a personal level, I’ve been thinking about what I do to cope with winter. Please remember – I am not a scientist, nor a doctor. If you think you are suffering from SAD, you should speak to your doctor, not mess about. I’m just a guy writing a blog post. But beyond getting professional medical advice, here are some practical things that have definitely helped me, and that you might like to consider yourself to make your winter that little bit easier:

1.      Get a SAD lamp. These are lamps which simulate the light we see from the sun. I can’t comment on the science of them, but I can tell you that when you shut your eyes lightly and stare into one of these little beauties as you have your breakfast on a wet December morning, you can easily imagine yourself looking up into the summer sky on a July morning. It’s glorious, even just for 10 minutes every morning. It can set your mood for the whole day. By the way, this is not a sponsored post. There are loads of these things for sale out there. Mine was about £30 – there’re no need to spend much more than that in my opinion. Have a look online and look for one with good reviews.

2.      Escape. If you are fortunate enough to be able to afford a winter break, like a long weekend in Barcelona or Nice in January, do it. It breaks up the winter months into two more manageable chunks, and it feels like you are escaping the darkness, albeit briefly. Note – I realise flying isn’t good for the environment, it’s sometimes expensive, and at the moment presents extra challenges with testing and traffic light malarkey. I know a short holiday is a very privileged thing to suggest. But sometimes, if you can afford it, you gotta take the joy you can get.

3.      Make plans. The winter is long and dark. Thinking about the months as a block – November, December, January, February – can feel overwhelming. So fill them with plans. Try and see your friends and family as much as possible. Not just in a loose, see-what-happens kind of way. Be active and deliberate in your planning. Tell your brother you’d like to watch a film with him next Friday. Tell your pal you want to meet for a coffee two weeks on Thursday. Join a club that meets on Monday nights at 7pm. Meet your sister for a dog walk this afternoon. Schedule a Zoom call weekly or fortnightly with a friend who lives far away. Get into a habit of phoning your dad or your grandparents once a week at a set time. Fill your diary with activities you look forward to that punctuate your weeks and keep you distracted. Make sure you always have something to look forward to, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard.

4.      Go outside. Yes, I know – it’s a cliché of lazy mental health advice. But seriously, all the research shows that fresh air and sunlight are good for you. It’s undeniable. Even if you don’t feel motivated, try and schedule a moment every day – whether it’s part of your lunchbreak, or even just 10 mins in the morning and in the afternoon if you work or study indoors, to go out and stretch the ol’ legs. If nothing else you might see something cool on your walk. There’s a lot to see outside.

5.      Books. Admittedly, this only works if you enjoy reading for fun. I do – that’s why I’m recommending it. If you don’t like reading, you definitely shouldn’t do this one. It’s another great form of escapism to immerse yourself in other worlds – some real, some fantasy – and transport yourself away from the situation if you’re not feeling great. You don’t need a lot of money to get books. Charity shops are bursting full of second- and third-hand copies of everything from “what to cook in a slow cooker” to “the Hobbit”. You never know what you’ll find in those places. Browsing can be an exciting activity in itself.

6.      Cut corners. Cut as many corners as you can. I don’t mean do your job or studying less well – that’s a terrible idea. I mean when it comes to breakfast time, make sure your coffee cup is already out the night before, next to the kettle. When it comes to going shopping, keep a supply of carrier bags in your car or in your coat pocket. When it’s time for dinner, have leftovers – cook less often, and cook more when you do. These are tiny, sometimes obvious things. But when you’re feeling low, you might not see the benefit in being prepared. Try and remind yourself to do these things when you’re already on your feet. Every time you save a little time or energy on those dark winter days, future you will feel like you and past-you have conspired to cheat the universe. You might give yourself a wee high-five.

7.      Go easy on yourself. Winter is miserable if you’re living with SAD. If you can’t get out of bed, or drop a cup, or forget to post a letter, or forget your carrier bags when you go into the supermarket – forgive yourself. If you catch yourself getting angry or annoyed at yourself, and I do often catch myself calling myself things like “idiot”, “hopeless” under my breath when I’m not having a good day, nip that right in the bud. You wouldn’t say that to your partner, or your mum, or your friend. That would be considered cruel and abusive if you did. Instead, tell yourself “no, that’s a horrible thing to say about someone who is trying really hard to get through the day. You’re not hopeless; you’re not an idiot. You’re doing really well, in fact, all things considered.” In other words, be fair and kind to yourself, and be active and deliberate about it, even if you don’t feel you deserve it in the moment. You’ll notice you feel better overall if you take this attitude.

I’m stopping there because seven is as good a place to stop as any. Why do all lists these days have to be lists of either three or ten? That’s not how the world works and it makes me inordinately annoyed when people feel they can’t stop at nine. Or seven. Do what you want, within reason.

None of these suggestions will stop you suffering from SAD, which is a very real and common mental health disorder. As I said before, and I’d like to reiterate now – please make an appointment to go and see your doctor for professional medical advice if the winter really fills you with dread. Don’t delay seeking help. But once you’ve done that, if anything amongst any of these ideas helps even one other person to have a slightly better winter, I’ll consider my time writing this well-spent.