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A short article into the world of day-to-day mood analysis.
Every day, upon returning home from school, my mother always asked me how my day was out of 10, as many mothers do. My go-to would be a 7 with an occasional 6 or 8. 'What would make a 10?' she would say. Christmas, I replied. I once heard my good friend Gabe answer her routine questioning, five, he stated, to my mother's shock. 'Five is the average, and it was an average sort of day. '
Now I was up north, and the winter blues had seeped through my otherwise impermeable skin; Durham has a knack for leaving a grey shade over your eyes. But soon, thoughts of the cozy nights of carols and mulled wine warmed my spirits, and I began to look forward to the darkening days. But wine, however mulled it is, often leaves one to reminisce.
It was late November, and I was walking back from a run-of-the-mill Thursday, missing my mother's constant questions. What is an average day? For I have not lived all the days, I cannot say with confidence that this one was a 5. This conundrum worried me deeply. So, naturally, I began to ponder a better method of day-to-day mood analysis.
The thinking is as follows. If I were just born, it is my first day on earth; I cannot possibly say what my day was out of 10. And on day 2, it would also be a hopeless cause to try and pin a number to the day. And, hopefully, not having lived all my days quite yet, I am inclined to say I can never get enough experience to accurately give my day a number. Only on my last day on earth could I have the chance to declare confidently a 10. However, from day 2, I can say something: I can compare my day to yesterday. Was it worse, the same, or better? It soon became apparent that I should only record my mood change, not the mood itself. This felt fundamental and resonated with me, seeing clear parallels of how you only feel acceleration, not your speed. The corners and not the straights.
So, during December and early January, I gathered some data. I figured it would be an exciting time with Christmas, New Year's, and the inevitable New Year lows. All I was allowed to do was assign a number to my day: -1, 0, 1. Worse, the same, or better. I hid the previous day's score to deter cheating. My aspirations were high, and beautiful graphs floated my dreams. But soon, the arduous task of remembering yesterday and scrapping my life strategy of ignoring the lows took its toll.
Figure 1: The cumulative score against date for the month of December.
Let's dive in. Figure 1 is the cumulative score over the time frame. Usually, I thought today was better than yesterday, and I enjoyed the weekend. My love of Christmas is clearly displayed, and I was happier every day on the run-up to Christmas Day. And there is the Boxing Day low - exaggerated by wearing safety squints in the workshop and consequently visiting the local eye hospital. It also documents some predictable life advice: Going to an ex's New Year's Eve party is usually followed by a painful crash. I can't say that this period of my life wasn't tumultuous. Unfortunately, we can't conclude much else. We cannot say that my mood improved throughout the month or that I found New Year's Eve better than Christmas, as who knows how high the jumps or the depths of the fall are.
Figure 2: The short comings of simple daily mood comparision.
The astute among you may have noticed the slight flaw in this otherwise impeccable method of mood analysis. There is no way to measure just how good or bad the next day is. It would seem underwhelming to denote the day of my house burning down with a simple -1. This is highlighted in Figure 2 by what would seem to be finding a penny is better than one's wedding day. Fools may say, why not have the scale range from -5 to 5? A lot better or better? I was that fool. But, and I will leave it to my reader to deduct, it leads us back to where it all began.
However, with a hint of more wisdom and less imagination, we can adjust my mother's method to be rather adequate. To negate the issue of not having lived all the days, if one finds a better-than-ever day, they shall indicate it with an 11 and so forth. I must emphasise the need to have lived a decent period of time before starting this mood methodology. But then we also have the major problem of what is an average. Is an average day an average of my 21 years of life, or do I extrapolate to what I expect in my lifetime? Or does one say it is whatever score I have lived most days as? But I didn't do statistics for a reason, so we shall let this conundrum float on by.
Yet what do humans really do? We fill our lives with experiences, and with each new day, we know a little better how we were and what we want our tomorrows to be. But we are complicated. We climb from valleys to make peaks feel taller. But who wouldn't look at the view to see where they came from at the end of a hike? Be it up or down.
It has been alluded to thus far that humans don't know what true happiness is; we don't know our 10, but I'm not sure this is true. What troubles me about rating your day is that it feels like points, with trips out and crazy activities scoring. The calm days filled with peace miss out as they meander by in bliss. It makes me wonder if I am living, searching for the perfect 10 days, only to find that in the end, I have lived hundreds and let them float by.
Through a period of troubled times, I sought to numerically and objectively assess my mental health. Well, that wouldn't quite be true; I looked for joy in a project. Although the discoveries were rather unsatisfactory, I conclude that this experiment was a great success. I, somehow, had tricked myself into reflecting on my day. So, all in all, I guess my mother is the real winner. The process of reflection may just be better than the number I give. In addition, I had many delightful discussions about my mood table with friends in Durham, more in the realm of 'Why, you crazy nut?'. In any case, now the sun is starting to come out, and the shade is beginning to clear.
Samiro - 2023
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