I believe there’s something seriously wrong with my circadian rhythm. For the (probably literal) thousandth time, I am in the middle of promising myself to schedule an appointment with a doctor.

I get slightly scared when I can’t go to sleep. Historically, insomnia precedes depressive points in my life. I think that sometimes I get more anxious over the thought of hitting bottom than I would actually reaching it. Another part of me is thoroughly convinced I’m talking out of my ass; not even the anticipation of reaching where I once was would come close to the reality of it.

I hate dwelling.

I miss doing things outside. I miss weekly disc golf with friends and the quietness of solitary evening walks. I miss nights with my telescope that at least gave sleeplessness a meaning. It’s currently 20 degrees outside.

God and the calenders remind me that spring will be along shortly. I think lack of somnus and low temperatures generally are the cause of my dampening temperament. It’s time for change.