paradox

Thinking today, after two weeks of intense reflection on my life and my circumstances, I realized that I am satisfied with my life. I am happy in my work and I am happy at home. I am happy with Mabel and Tuna and Pomona. I like where I live. There are things I wish were different, but nothing crucial, just small things, mostly desires that are not essential: I would like a new bed. I would like a new sofa.

So I think that my depression is not tied to my circumstances, and I understand more than ever that it is chemical; my brain chemistry is unbalanced. While walking in the oddly warm humid air to my doctor's office this evening, I thought that, even though I have been depressed the past two days, it is not because I am unhappy. Does this make sense?