It starts...again.

Well crap. It starts again. Today was the first day that I noticed that the days are getting shorter. And that always throws me for a loop. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but it's not true. I forget over the summer. I get so used to feeling good and happy all the time. I forget about the darkness that looms just beyond the sunshine - waiting for me on the other side of the Autumn Equinox.

And the thing is - it hit me much the same as it does every year. I get suddenly nervous about seemingly nothing at all. Just a horrible stomach-ache that I've learned is my version of a mild anxiety attack. And each year I get better at dealing with it. Each year it takes me less time to step back and assess why I suddenly feel like I'm afraid of the world. But that doesn't stop it from coming. It doesn't stop me from still being afraid of the world. It's just that I know how to figure out why.

And this is what I'm sick of. I'm sick of that "afraid-of-the-world" feeling. Sick of suddenly getting scared to see people, to do anything except crawl under the covers. Because that's all I want to do right now. Crawl under the covers and let life pass me by. It just seems like that would be so much easier than getting up and making myself continue to walk my life path.

Of course, in the end that's just what I'll do. I'll get that song going in my head from "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town":

You put one foot in front of the other,
And soon you'll be walking 'cross the floor...
You put one foot in front of the other,
And soon you'll be walking out the door.

And that's what I'll do. I'll make myself continue to take a step at a time - go do what it is I planned to do tonight. Be around people. Because once I'm there, I'll feel better. Once I'm there things will feel normal and okay again. Once I'm there, I'll stop shaking from fear of the world.

But right now? I'm shaking, I'm afraid, I'm alone, I'm petrified, I'm angry that it's all happening again.

Every year I realize this, too: I find I was hoping that this year it wouldn't come back.

Can I tell you how sick I am of saying that? How sick I am of letting myself down because I'm secretly, subconsciously hoping that this year I won't have to deal with my depression. It's all so stupid. I need to accept the fact that it'll always be here. Accept the fact that every year it will come back. Accept the fact that every year I'll have to deal with the day when I realize the days are getting shorter and I'll have to start dealing with the depression all over again.

Oh terrific. Now I'm shaking from fear AND I'm crying. Tonight is not my night.

Maybe, hopefully, surely tomorrow will be better, right? ......... Right?

[sigh]
Well, tomorrow I'll know, won't I?