Abigail Strubel, MA, LSCW, CASAC

Abigail headshot 2"Abigail Strubel, LSCW, CASAC is a Columbia-educated clinical social worker and certified alcohol and substance abuse counselor who uses light therapy to cope with her annual seasonal affective disorder, and also manages chronic insomnia through acupressure and good sleep hygiene. She has worked with formerly homeless adults, ex-offenders on parole, recovering heroin users, and other interesting populations. Her approach to wellness is a fusion of all compatible treatments—alternative or not—that make people feel better while also objectively reducing medical problems.

Traveling Light: Why I brought my light to Chicago

CET Web Mgmt : February 10, 2016 7:00 am : Abigail

Our intrepid Abigail Strubel, having experienced an array of disappointments with one treatment or another — admittedly sometimes with temporary relief — hones in on light therapy, to which she gets seriously attached. —Michael Terman

In November of 2014, my cousin’s daughter celebrated her bat mitzvah in Chicago. I live in Manhattan, but I was eager to celebrate with her and my family. However, I was anxious on one count: with the onset of Standard Time in November, I start using a light box to combat my Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). The box isn’t heavy, but neither is it small. So I debated whether to pack it, or chance the weekend without it.

The Monday after the celebration, I was slated to start a new job as clinical supervisor in a busy substance abuse clinic. I knew I had to hit the ground running; I couldn’t bring my B game on the very first day. So when I packed my suitcase, I included several fancy outfits, my toothbrush, makeup, and my light box, wrapped in several layers of clothing.


Source: public-domain-image.com

To Be or Not to Be Without a Light Box

I called the airline to ask about taking the light box through security; I didn’t want it confiscated, and emphasized that I needed it for medical reasons. I was advised to take the light box out, and put it in a separate bin for screening, when I got to the airport.

None of the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) agents batted an eye as I unbundled it from its swaddling and placed it carefully in a bin, which sailed through the X-ray on the conveyer belt just ahead of my suitcase, purse, and shoes. Relieved, I retrieved all my belongings and went to the gate.

At home, I’d been using the light box from 6:45 to 7:30 a.m. So at approximately 6:45 a.m., a few hours before my flight was due to take off, I plugged the light into an electrical outlet near one of the seats at the gate, placing a book in the next seat.

When you use a light box for SAD, you don’t look directly into the light itself; you look at a piece of paper or something pale near the box, and the light reflects into your eyes. First I tried sitting two seats away and putting a book on the seat between me and the box, but I was too far away; optimal distance between you and the source of light is 12 inches. Sitting on the seat next to the box with the book in my lap, I had to hunch my neck uncomfortably. Ultimately, I sat on the floor, put the book on the seat next to the light box, and read the book.

Source: clker.com

Source: clker.com

The Strange Woman Sitting on the Floor

The usually good thing about New York is that most people don’t notice what’s going on around them if they’re not personally involved. Glancing up furtively from time to time, I never noticed anyone watching the strange woman sitting on the floor near a row of empty seats and a peculiar lamp. After 45 minutes – the time my doctor and I have determined is necessary for me – I unplugged the lamp and waited a few minutes for it to cool before rebundling it in clothing for the flight.

In Chicago, I shared a hotel room with my oldest niece, 17, who was intrigued by the light box. I set it up on the desk, explained what it does, and showed her how I use it. Although she said she wanted to watch me use it, like most teenagers she’s not much of a morning person, so I used it unobserved, early on Saturday and Sunday mornings.

Good Luck, and a Happy Ending

Traveling with the light box isn’t convenient, but for those of us with SAD, it might be necessary. I was happy that no TSA inspector took or broke it, and it survived the journey as well as I did. That Monday I faced my first day on the new job confidently, energy and concentration intact.

Abigail Strubel

Abigail Strubel

ABIGAIL STRUBEL is a Columbia-educated clinical social worker and certified alcohol and substance abuse counselor who uses light therapy to cope with her annual seasonal affective disorder, and also manages chronic insomnia through acupressure and good sleep hygiene. She has worked with formerly homeless adults, ex-offenders on parole, recovering heroin users, and other interesting populations. Her approach to wellness is a fusion of all compatible treatments—alternative or not—that make people feel better while also objectively reducing medical problems.


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Sneaky SAD: How Seasonal Affective Disorder sneaked up on me, symptom by symptom.

CET Web Mgmt : February 10, 2016 7:00 am : Abigail

Abigail gets fooled. The fall of 2015 was the warmest and brightest on record in New York, and winter depression seemed a distant thought.  As I remarked in a New York Times interview, though, “The people who have benefited until now are going to crash, and they will do it very quickly.” It did turn cold and dark in January, and, yes, people crashed … but not as fast as crash implies.  Before the depression hits, you’re noticing a parade of symptoms that culminate in the crash.  Below, self-observant Abigail writes the textbook case report. —Michael Terman

In early November 2015, I set up my light box and waited for SAD to strike. I even took the AutoMEQ self-assessment on cet.org to determine the optimal time to use it. But strangely, I was only hit with one symptom, terminal insomnia — which isn’t even a typical symptom of SAD, but which plagues me after every autumnal time change.

After trying various natural remedies, in December I caved and began taking a mild sleep aid prescribed by my doctor. After few weeks of solid sleep, I skipped the pill one evening and noticed that I still slept through the night. “Great,” I thought. “This year I’m giving SAD a pass!”

Unfortunately, SAD snuck up on me, symptom by symptom, until I could no longer ignore it.


Source: commons.wikimedia.org

Lack of Energy

In January 2016 — just last month! — I started noticing that I was having trouble getting up in the morning, even though I was sleeping through the night. This was puzzling, since I was still brimming with enthusiasm for the wonderful job I started in November. I expected to spring out of bed when the alarm rang, not hit the snooze button. I wasn’t going to bed late, so I was surprised to feel so tired after a full night’s sleep.

I added a few cups of green tea throughout the day to my usual two cups of coffee in the morning, and felt slightly more alert. I also stopped taking my nightly dose of melatonin, since its overall effects are sedating. That helped, too—but only briefly. Soon I found myself not only dragging myself out of bed, but almost dozing through the afternoons.

At first I attributed some of my lethargy to the turkey sandwich I frequently order for lunch, but I also felt sleepy without any extra tryptophan (the amino acid in turkey that is theorized to induce sleepiness).

I tried to brainstorm reasons for my listlessness. At my last check-up, my doctor drew blood for lab work and later informed me that I was slightly anemic.  He didn’t sound concerned or order more tests, so I more or less shrugged it off.

“How anemic am I?” I wondered. “Should I take iron?”

But my nail beds are a healthy pink — when you’re anemic, they pale to a bluish-white — and I wasn’t fainting or having nosebleeds, other typical anemia symptoms. I was just… really, really tired most of the time.

Before I went to the drugstore to stock up on iron supplements, another symptom hit and distracted me.


Source: commons.wikimedia.org

Carbohydrate Cravings

Sitting at my desk one January morning, I was overwhelmed with a craving for cake. Something dense, sweet, floury that you could sink your teeth into. Reviewing spreadsheets or typing up a presentation, my mind would wander, fantasizing about the enormous muffins I used to buy at a job I held more than 10 years ago. The muffins were so big, they were actually difficult to bite into; eating them wasn’t pretty, but it was tremendously satisfying.

I hated that job, but buying a hot cup of coffee and an enormous banana-walnut or cranberry muffin made going to work a bit sweeter. I hadn’t thought about those muffins in more than 10 years—yet they became an almost daily fantasy. I’ve always had a sweet tooth, but this craving had the force of a powerful instinct. Sleep, breathe, eat muffins.

I began buying muffins on my lunch break; after a healthy bowl of soup or turkey sandwich, I’d dive into a muffin and a big cup of coffee (the green tea wasn’t keeping me alert enough through the afternoon, and I didn’t want to fall asleep in front of the people I work with).

These were smaller muffins, though, and I never felt quite satisfied. If I skipped the muffin, later I’d find myself daydreaming about demolishing cake like a lion who’s brought down an antelope.

The annoying thing about cravings is that satisfying them only leads to stronger cravings. No matter how many muffins I brutalized, I still wanted more and more. Refined flour is low in fiber, so while a muffin might fill you temporarily, the satisfaction doesn’t last.

More importantly, too much sugar is bad for your teeth, weight, and mood. Although sugar crashes aren’t as drastic as cocaine withdrawal, they’re still perceptibly disruptive to your emotional balance. But I don’t think sugar was responsible for the final SAD symptom.


Source: Sad/ The Most Important News, public domain

Source: Sad/ The Most Important News, public domain

Although I’m a bit shy, I’ve made a real effort to be outgoing at work. I say “good morning” and “hello” to everyone, whether or not I know them. (In my defense, it’s a very large agency.)

This might seem obvious to a lot of you, but for me it took some effort. The rewards, however, were tremendous. Smiling is a natural mood elevator, a bit of folk wisdom that’s been born out by research. Smiling at so many people every day was making me feel more cheerful.

But gradually, without realizing, I stopped smiling and greeting my co-workers as I passed them in the corridors. I felt awkward and uncomfortable; I couldn’t meet their eyes.

Social withdrawal can be a sign of depression.

Then one morning I woke up and felt jangly. I couldn’t seem to get up, make coffee, get dressed. I couldn’t face the thought of going to work, sitting through meetings, reviewing case notes and developing training materials. Normally I breeze through those tasks on autopilot; that morning, deciding what color tights to wear was overwhelming. Anxiety and difficulty concentrating: two more signs of depression.

What could be wrong? I wondered. I love this job. I like almost all of my co-workers, and I’m comfortable with the population of clients we serve. Why would I be anxious or muddled?

I have seasonal affective disorder (SAD). That’s what’s wrong. It just didn’t hit me all at once this season. Amazing how a condition you’ve had for years can still surprise you. I usually expect to feel depressed and lethargic in mid-November; this year, it took me longer, but I got there eventually.

The good news is, I have a light box and I know how to use it. Unfortunately, according to my self-assessment I needed to get up at 6:00 am to use it, but I’ll do whatever it takes to feel better. So I reset my alarm clock and started using the light box, initially 15 minutes and increasing the dose as needed. After about five days, it was easy to get out of bed and start my day. I didn’t worry about falling asleep during long afternoon meetings, and making eye contact and smiling at my co-workers was comfortable again.

The muffins of this city, however, are still in grave peril.

Abigail Strubel

ABIGAIL STRUBEL is a Columbia-educated clinical social worker and certified alcohol and substance abuse counselor who uses light therapy to cope with her annual seasonal affective disorder, and also manages chronic insomnia through acupressure and good sleep hygiene. She has worked with formerly homeless adults, ex-offenders on parole, recovering heroin users, and other interesting populations. Her approach to wellness is a fusion of all compatible treatments—alternative or not—that make people feel better while also objectively reducing medical problems.

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Interminable Terminal Insomnia, Part II

CET Web Mgmt : January 10, 2016 6:29 pm : Abigail, Center for Environmental Therapeutics

SO THERE I WAS, NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, WAKING UP AT 3 A.M. despite my best efforts at sleep hygiene. My new therapist suggested a different approach. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for Insomnia, CBT-I, as it’s known, is a very practical approach to retraining your body and brain for better sleep. more »

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Interminable Terminal Insomnia

CET Web Mgmt : January 8, 2016 7:17 pm : Abigail, Center for Environmental Therapeutics

When a clinician’s bag of tricks is no match for her early morning waking

One of my least favorite symptoms of seasonal affective disorder (SAD)―not saying I enjoy the low mood, decreased energy, and impaired concentration―is terminal insomnia.

Terminal insomnia is also known as “early morning waking.” It can take place anytime between 2 and 4 a.m., and it’s usually difficult to fall back asleep. It’s a well-known symptom of non-seasonal depression, but not so well known for SAD. If you’ve read any magazine story about SAD, you’ve no doubt gotten the impression that oversleeping is the problem―but certainly not for me.  Why should I be so different? more »

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Complicated Grief and the Inner Clock

CET Web Mgmt : August 11, 2015 9:47 pm : Abigail, Center for Environmental Therapeutics

Abigail headshot 2"

Abigail Strubel, MA, LCSW, CASAC,

When is poor sleep a sign of a broken heart?

One of my most poignant patient interactions in the methadone program where I used to work was with a 73-year old woman I’ll call Maria. She suffered from numerous health problems in addition to her heroin addiction, including obesity, diabetes, a bout with breast cancer in her 40s, high blood pressure and elevated cholesterol levels.

But when I met with Maria to discuss enrolling in a geriatric case management program to help her better handle her health issues, all she could talk about was her late daughter, Isabel. How beautiful Isabel had been, how young when she passed away, what a perfect companion she was, and how lost and lonely Maria felt without her.

“I don’t care if the cancer comes back,” she told me. “Without Isabel, my life is pointless. I just want her with me again. I miss her so much. It feels like she died just yesterday.”

In fact, Isabel had died more than 15 years prior to our conversation. Maria’s feelings were typical of someone experiencing complicated grief, which is defined as negative feelings related to a loss that persist for at least six months, and impair a person’s ability to cope with and enjoy life. One prominent symptom of complicated grief is sleep problems. more »

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