Depressed

I am depressed. I guess that's what it feels like; I never used to think I got depressed. I just thought the way I felt was my own private funk. It never occurred to me that I might be depressed. Frankly, I still don't think it really fits. Because Being Depressed sounds to me like it's a single state, a mono mood, a sole plane of experience. And I never have that kind of luxury, where I exist all at once in one particular state or another. I might have the darkest of depressions going on, but still be compassionate to a friend, or crack up at a movie. As soon as I tried to write that, though, I sort of recall the times when the mood does saturate all other moods. When it gets that weighted down, it can be very comforting. Like a lead blanket. Or when my grandpa (in a non-perv way) would lay on us when he tucked us in and it was cold. That weight of him pressing down felt so comforting. That's what the really dark funks are like, too. I don't have to worry about what I should be doing, or which of my infinite options I might pursue at any given moment; it's a one track relaxation trip. With a built in excuse. But like the highs, I can never keep it around as long as I'd like. Three days in, I'll get the urge to do something -- socialize, or see a movie, or draw a picture, or call a friend -- and I fight the urge, wanting to stay down under the heaviness where it's safe and simple. But eventually the darkness crumbles, little holes of light start taking over, and next thing I know I can barely remember why I wanted to stay down in the hole. I'm just heading in right now, so I should have a few good days.