On the Fringe

I'm living on the fringe today. It's been a day of preparing, thinking, and eventually doing, but somehow it feels as if I'm not really in or part of the day. My surroundings feel distant and unreal, flat and two-dimensional. My body has been placed onto the surroundings of the day, but not in them. It's like those colorforms that we played with as kids. You place the plasticy, sticky figures onto the shiny, cardboardy background and create a scene. I'm the plasticy figure sticking to the background, just stuck there, with no way of really moving. There's me on one side and the world on the other, and they're at odds with each other.
I can't really figure out how this happens. It's a bright, sunny day, I'm getting along well with Zach, and I'm sleeping well, eating well, and getting plenty of fresh air. I start to wonder if I'm brooding too much, and, after a few more hours of brooding, I conclude that I am.
Okay. So now that's been established.
Thinking about this coming winter and what I'm going to do once my teaching position ends is frightening. I love fall and winter, but they are typically times when I feel most depressed, and I certainly don't want to have nothing to do come January. It's hard not to think that these feelings will last forever, and when I do talk about them I feel like a whiny baby. I'm really scared of what could happen. Could something like what happened last winter (the debilitating depression, self harm and thoughts of/plans for suicide) happen ever again? The effects from that time are still lingering, and I'm afraid that even if I did feel 100% better, that I could get sideswiped by it all again. What would be worse, being sideswiped or living in a heightened state of anxiety? I don't know right now. Right now it feels like I have no other viable option. So I'm living on the fringe, worrying about it, and trying to make sense of it all. Maybe it will never make sense.