I don’t know whether I am burned out, depressed, or simply living wrong

Dear Delyara, I keep circling the same question without landing. I am tired, yes. But this feels more layered than tired. I still function. I still cook, work, reply, plan, drive, smile, remember, parent. But there is something wrong in the texture of my life that I cannot cleanly identify. Some days I think it’s burnout. Some days I think it’s depression hiding inside competence. Some days I think it’s grief for a version of myself I quietly lost years ago and never fully mourned. Some days I think maybe I have simply built a life around enduring things that do not suit me anymore. That uncertainty is exhausting because it keeps me from acting decisively. If I knew what the problem was, I could move toward it. Instead I keep half-helping myself in six different directions and still ending up in the same emotional room by evening. There are few things lonelier than not fully understanding the pain you live inside every day.