This object (me) at rest is so very invested in remaining so.
I’m not sure if I’m depressed.
It’s not a matter of shame. Probably its the whole notion that depressed means sad, and I am not sad. I am tired. I am withdrawn. I am unwilling to engage. I am numb.
Having been diagnosed as depressed a number of years ago, I have vague recollections it was just like that.
What to do? As dad used to say, “Do something. Even if it’s wrong”