According to the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, kairosclerosis is:

The moment you look around and realize that you’re currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.

I feel like this is something I do sometimes. Not often while it’s happening, but in the aftermath of the happiness. I do something that makes me happy, and then in the hours and days following I get introspective and upset with myself as I find all the ways I did it wrong, or could have done it better, or shouldn’t have done it in the first place (which isn’t the case, but my brain always comes up with some stupid reason).

I suppose people might say “live in the moment and don’t think too hard about it” as a way to combat kairosclerosis, but that’s not how depressed people’s minds work. We’re programmed to think about what might have gone wrong in any given situation — kind of like anxiety sufferers, but instead of just worrying about something, we overanalyze it. We poke at the bruise until it hurts, or pick at the scab until it’s bleeding again, because we want to know if it still hurts — if we can still hurt at all, or if we’re numb to the pain.

I wish I had some advice. I really do. But I’m right there in the same boat you are.

Here’s a related word that we depressed people also do a lot:

Ah, German. A language of portmanteaus. This one literally means “the sadness of the wall-builder”, which is a beautiful way to say it.