Correlations

Is there a direct correlation between my level of boredom and how much I write blog posts? Or maybe it's a correlation between my level of happiness, of the balance of feeling like I don't need to write things because I am living them?

Maybe none of that is true, and I'm just trying to be better at writing on here because I know it's good for me - and because when I look back on them in who-knows-how-many-year's time, they'll mean something different to where I am then. They'll be a reminder of what was, where my journey has taken me.

It's not all bad, but it's not all good either. I'm struggling at the moment to be my usual positive self. Is that usual? Is that who I am?

I think so. I think I am the one usually reassuring others, who is vehemently determined for things to go right - or that they will work themselves out. I think in my soul I still believe that. I've often figured that if things aren't going right, it means it's not the end.

And anyway, there isn't really an end, is there? There's the end of the day, week, month, year - the end of the dictated word we have used to capture a certain amount of time - but there's no end to living until you die. It might sound morbid but I don't mean it to, if anything it's a good thing. It means that there is always a tomorrow, a next time. There is always the opportunity to turn things around if you try.

My problem is, I know that, but I am really tired. Too tired to try? Maybe. It feels that way when I wake up sometimes, that I just want to stay in bed and sleep the day away.

I don't think I'm depressed, maybe just sprinkled with a hint of despair at the moment... and it's very hard to always be the one trying to cheer yourself up.

I realised that today. That I'm usually the one cheering myself up, and cheering other people up. Like I'm always the one reassuring Ry that things are going to work out, that we'll get to where we need to go. 

But I'm so busy saving others from drowning - or at least I think I am, when they let me in and tell me the truth of how they're feeling - that I don't think I ever let anyone else help me? I'm so used to being a strong swimmer, I don't really notice myself slipping under. 

Again, I'm being overdramatic. I don't think I stay under for long... Just enough to feel a sense of helplessness for a few days before I take in oxygen again. Like when you were a kid, pretending to be dead in a pool to see who would notice, and then splutter and gasp for breath when you couldn't hold your breath any longer.

I'm not really sure where this blog post is going. Probably nowhere. The only thing I'm really thinking is, I hope I come out of this funk soon, cause it's not helpful to anyone.