Is the depression serious enough?

  A depressive episode actually lasts more than a week or two, sometimes longer.  I don't think I have very many of these types of depressive episodes.  I am more along the lines of, hold it together, hold it together, hold it together, shit, I'm crying on the bathroom floor again.  I am sure this means that I am not seriously depressed.  I am capable of laughter.  I exercise, and I try to eat healthy foods (except when I fall apart, but that is for another blog).  I don't drink alcohol.  I try to get enough sleep.  Now, I am trying to cut back on caffeine.  And for all my efforts, I found myself unable to get out of bed today.  Typically, I am triggered by my inability to sleep.  This time, I was going to go for an early morning bike ride, and I woke up at 1:30 AM, and I could not fall back asleep.  I had to end my ride early because I was too sleepy to keep riding.  So, the thoughts went like this:  I am too sleepy to live my life.  I sleep too much to live my life.  Why do I even try to do anything if I can't finish it because I need to take a nap in the middle?  I was angry.  I was frustrated.  I was disappointed.  I don't know what I should do when I feel like this.  I know I currently react in a way that winds me up in bed unable to will myself up to feed the dogs.  I know this is an unhealthy behavior.  I wonder what other people do.  Maybe other people sleep better.  Maybe other people would be able to finish the ride.  Maybe it doesn't matter to me what I would do if I were normal.  All I need is to be able to live my life without constantly worrying about how it is going to affect my sleep.  I manage to get out of bed, go to work, and be a responsible adult, so I may have some form of depression, but since my episodes last a couple days, I must not be that bad.  On a similar note, I have been trying to figure out if I am having suicidal thoughts or just normal healthy thoughts about death and dying.  I don't intend to go through with any plan, but my innocent little daydreams about how I might die are taking a turn for the self-inflicted.  These would all be good things to share with my therapist . . . if only I didn't want her to think I was doing well.  I am tragically bad at therapy.  Ugh, no one who reads this needs to call me.  No doubt I've been trying to deal with this longer than you know, and if it concerns you that I might hurt myself, I won't.  I am trying to get better; I'm just really really slow at it.