Made up of words

Often when I write down and analyse my various states of being, I am unable to see the temporary nature of these states and assess them as if they have always been there and will always be there. When I felt hopeless the other night, the deep depression I felt inspired me to philosophise over my absolute and final loss of hope.

But that feeling didn't last. I pushed myself to work, got too tired, went home to sleep for 3 hours and accidentally slept for 9, worked a little more, became extremely anxious and had my mum sit with me while I finished off my assignment and then experienced a rush of happiness and ambition after submitting (which I think is related to being free of Matt's friendship).

I wrote a list of all the things I hope to achieve, I cleaned out my wardrobe, I again felt like my life would be worth living. But  I didn't take this feeling for granted, like I did with the depressed one. Perhaps there is something inherently sticky about the nature of depressed feelings which blocks out any realistic or in fact alternative perspectives.

I'm currently taking a course in self-writing, well I just completed it actually, shout out to my mother for her help. In this course we learned about the different ways to express the self and how over history their has been an evolving definition of what this self actually is. The course emphasised the process of writing as a sort of self discovery process to get at your true self; who you really are hidden under all that cultural influence and societal construct.

This blog presents a disjointed, contradictory girl who doesn't want men to dictate her life, but makes choices based solely on men, who "never" leaves her state of depression but at the same time samples from the lighter end of the emotional spectrum. Who hates study, can see no value in it, but also loves what she's learning and is ambitious to do well.
All these contrary parts of me, somehow fit together and make me who I am, and one day this will be all there is of me... creeeepy.

I am fond of this idea of using this as a self record, for my own gain to explore what it means to be me. I very much like the idea of noticing things about myself that I wouldn't have otherwise noticed.
The first self-aware observation I would like to make is that when I am depressed, I look inward and I look back and I process, and I process, and I wait to be lifted out, sometimes its awhile but my mood is consistent in its seesaw motion. On the other hand, when I am happy, I look forward, I make plans, I have ideas, and I look at the actions I can do, not looking outward but more just focusing on the task at hand. This mood I can slip very easily out of, like a slippery dip of realisation that happiness is fleeting, but this happens less than it used to. In happiness I can become lazy and too content and instead of waiting to be pulled up, I get distracted and before I know it I look around and see that I've been pulled back down; my mood is consistent in its seesaw motion.