I Escaped Seasonal Depression by Escaping Winter: Digital Nomad Climate Choice
November again. Duane Reade. Vitamin D aisle.
I'm holding my eleventh bottle. 5,000 IU. Same ritual, eleven years running.
The cashier: "That time of year, huh?"
I nod. Pay. Walk out.
But this time I'm thinking: Why am I still here?
The First Winter That Broke Me
I moved to New York eleven years ago. First year, novelty carried me through.
Then real winter hit.
Came back from holiday break and couldn't leave bed. Not "didn't want to"—couldn't. Three weeks. Just staring at gray-white sky through the window.
Hives everywhere. Systemic stress response. Doctor gave me steroids and a new phrase: Seasonal Affective Disorder.
SAD. Perfect.
He said: "Take vitamin D. Get a light box. You'll adjust."
Ten Years of "Adjusting"
I bought the $89 SAD lamp. Took 5,000 IU daily. Set phone reminders.
Every November: dread.
Every December-February: survival mode.
Every March: relief. "Made it through another one."
Ten cycles.
Everyone said: "You'll get used to it. Everyone deals with winter."
I never got used to it.
Every November, like clockwork: that sinking. Everything requiring triple energy.
Getting up: effort.
Working: effort.
Existing: exhausting.
But I was "adapted," right? I had coping mechanisms.
I'd learned to survive somewhere that made me sick.
The Eleventh Bottle
November 2024. Standing in Duane Reade with that bottle.
Walked home. Opened laptop. Checked Slack.
Boss: California.
Team: three different states.
Clients: everywhere.
My work required: computer + internet.
That's it.
Not New York. Not this gray city. Not this place where I bought vitamin D every November to compensate for what my body wasn't getting.
So why was I here?
That Night
Scrolling Instagram. Saw a photo from back home.
Winter. Freezing cold. But the sky? Blue. Bright. Blinding.
I stared at it.
Where I grew up, winter was cold but light. Blue sky. White snow.
New York winter? Gray. Five months of color draining from the world.
I realized: I don't hate winter. I hate gray.
And I'd spent eleven years trying to fix my body instead of changing location.
The Real Problem
SAD was a symptom.
The disease? Geographic inertia.
I was in New York because I'd moved here eleven years ago. That's it.
Not because my job required it.
Not because my life was here.
Not because I loved it.
I was here because I'd always been here and leaving felt dramatic.
But spending eleven years depressed to avoid seeming dramatic?
That's actually dramatic.
What "Adaptation" Really Meant
For ten years, everyone said adapt:
"Get used to it."
"Everyone deals with winter."
"That's just life here."
So I adapted. I learned to:
- Function while depressed
- Accept five months of misery as normal
- Treat my body's distress as a problem to manage
Adaptation meant: ignoring my body screaming "WRONG PLACE."
I'd Already Left Mentally
By bottle number eleven, I'd already decided.
Few weeks later: one-way ticket to Mexico City.
Packing was surreal. Pulled out my winter coat—barely worn because I'd stopped going outside.
Stared at it. I'll never need this again.
The coat stayed. The SAD lamp stayed. The vitamin D stockpile stayed.
Evidence of a life I'd been trying to fix instead of change.
December 2024: Mexico City
Sitting outside. Coffee. Laptop. 72 degrees. Blue sky.
11 AM Tuesday. Working in a t-shirt.
My New York friends texting: "First snow, ugh."
I'm not gloating. Just... existing without weight.
No vitamin D.
No light box.
No survival mode.
Just living.
Not vacation. My normal life, but somewhere my body doesn't hate.
The 7706 Fits Everything Now
My backpack in New York: laptop, charger, winter layers "just in case."
Same backpack in Mexico City: laptop, charger, but also—swimming stuff for afternoon cenote trips. Extra shirt because I'll actually go outside for lunch. Camera because weekends mean Oaxaca or Tulum, not hiding indoors from gray.
Same bag. Different contents. Different life.
Monday it holds work stuff for a café.
Saturday it holds weekend trip gear.
Not a "work bag" or "travel bag."
A bag for a life that doesn't fit one category.
The 7706 doesn't ask me to choose between city and nature, work and adventure. Neither does my life anymore.
Week one in Mexico City, I worked mornings, then took it to Chapultepec Park in the afternoon. Just to sit outside. Something I'd stopped doing entirely in New York winters.
That's when I realized: I wasn't just escaping weather. I was escaping the indoor life weather had forced me into.
The backpack that held my winter survival kit now holds my actual life.
What Changed (And What Didn't)
Work: Same laptop. Same meetings. Same projects.
Income: Goes further here.
Relationships: Some faded. New ones formed.
Mental health: Transformed.
No more hard seasons. November doesn't trigger dread. January isn't something to survive.
New York baseline: "fine"
Here: "actually okay"
That's everything.
It Wasn't Just Weather
SAD was my body's annual reminder: You're still in the wrong place.
Eleven years treating the reminder instead of listening.
The vitamin D, the light box, the adaptation—all just spending energy to stay somewhere I shouldn't be.
Like wearing wrong-size shoes for years. The answer isn't better insoles. It's different shoes.
Geographic Inertia Is Real
Saying "I got a better job in Mexico"—people get it.
Saying "I'm leaving because winter makes me depressed and my work is remote anyway"—sounds frivolous.
But staying was dramatic:
- Eleven years seasonal depression
- Thousands on supplements and therapy
- Five months yearly of diminished capacity
That's dramatic.
Leaving was logical.
The Template Says: Stay and Cope
Everyone deals with winter.
You're not special.
Grow up.
But "everyone deals with it" isn't a reason to keep dealing with it.
My work didn't require New York.
My life wasn't better there.
My mental health was worse.
Only thing keeping me: habit.
Your Body Isn't Wrong
Seasonal depression isn't a character flaw. It's data.
Your body saying: This doesn't work for me.
Eleven years, I treated that as a problem to manage.
Now I see it as information I should've listened to sooner.
What I Wish I'd Known
You don't owe loyalty to a place that makes you sick.
"I've always been here" isn't a reason to stay.
Adaptation isn't always the answer. Sometimes it's: leave.
Climate is a choice now—if your work is remote.
Mental health is a valid reason to move.
January 2026
Outside. Laptop. Sun. Blue sky.
This is my January now.
No vitamin D. No SAD lamp. No dread.
I didn't cure seasonal depression.
I stopped choosing to live somewhere that caused it.
Not About Beaches
People think: endless vacation.
It's not.
It's just... not being seasonally depressed.
Same laptop. Same work. Different sky.
City to sunshine. Vitamin D bottles to actual sun. Adaptation to liberation.
If You're in November Right Now
Not saying everyone should move.
But if your work is remote and you're depressed months every year:
What are you staying for?
If it's "because I've always been here"—
That's inertia. Not you.
When I quit, I left the coat. Haven't needed it. Haven't been seasonally depressed since.
Not because I'm stronger.
Because I stopped adapting to the wrong environment.
Your body isn't broken for hating winter.
Listen to it.
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