Every year around this time I start to feel really bad. “Joy to the World!” And I’ll have my meds handy.
Every year, an acqaintance in a Santa hat will tell me this shadow sets in because I think, falsely, that everybody is having a good time but me. But let’s forget him for the moment, because he’s already getting on my nerves. S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) or THE PITS (the advanced clinical stage), is a real illness like bronchitis, only not as loud.
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