But off by how much? And in what way?

Ha ha ha.

Feeling somewhat better-ish today. Still got the simmering cauldron of long denied rage thing going on, but I have had some mellower moments mixed in there too.

Therapy helped. Talked over a bunch of things with Doctor Costin. No particular area of psychological paydirt, but it always feels good just to tell him about my life and how it’s going and how I have been feeling and whatever else that brings up.

Unsurprisingly, I have lost my temper a few times lately. Been a little less patient with poor Julian. If you’re reading this, Julian, I’m sorry.

But I am going through a lot of ‘stuff” lately and it’s making me a tad short with people. Please stay tuned as I adjust to my new emotional reality and learn how to actually deal with my emotions instead of just suppressing everything with the help of depressions big cold wet blanket effect.

Particularly bad was when I snapped at some random furry (with a terrible fursona name, which I shan’t share) for making the typical newbie mistake of trying to sort of worm their way into an existing cuddle between two fuzzies.

And I get it. When you are new, it is really hard to figure out how to get in on the socialization (and etcetera) going on, especially if like most of us you are socially awkward and therefore not exactly well equipped to get to know people.

But it’s also the exact sort of thing that will set me off because I value intimacy very highly and when I am having a nice cuddle with a friend or two, the last thing I want is some random person I don’t know butting in and shattering the connection.

So, to my great shame, I said something like, “Excuse me, were you invited? ”

And to their credit, they said “Were you?” A respectable riposte.

And I said something like, “I have known this fur forever, I don’t need an invitation. But I don’t know you at all. It’s rude to barge in on people like this. Don’t presume. ”

Presumption is a pretty big crime in my books. It’s what, in a court of manners, I would charge too-friendly servers and salesmen who talk like we’re long lost friends with.

Don’t presume, assholes. We don’t know each other. You don’t get to talk to me like that. Please remove your unwanted intimacies from my environs.

Anyhow, I immediately regretted being such a bitch. I apologized to the person in question over and over but I know that only goes so far.

So, that’s a permanent black mark on my record, as far as I am concerned. And I am ashamed of it. A previous, less testy version of me would have shrugged off the presumption and welcomed this clearly lonesome person into our cuddle, and did my best to make them feel included.

Then again, it’s a lot easier to be a super nice person when you’re kind of dead inside.

In the real world, with real emotions, it’s a lot more complicated.

So I consider that incident to be a learning moment for me. That’s like a teachable moment, but you are teaching yourself.

Sadly, sometimes in life, our life lessons come at the expense of others. And to me, that’s the worst possible kind of lesson. I would much rather suffer myself. That I can fix, that I can heal.

But when you hurt others, that’s it. It’s done. You have harmed that person in a way that can never be fully erased. It can’t be “fixed”. It just…. is.

So, sorry random fur. If it helps, I feel really bad about it.

But this is the sort of territory I am in now, and I had better get used to it. The stakes are higher now that I am unfreezing my emotions. Things can happen very quickly when my emotions are this close to the surface. Faster, in fact, than I can stop myself.

So self-control is a whole new game now. Much more strategic, requiring foresight into what might set me off and advanced efforts to head that shit off.

But one thing is for sure : I am not going to even try to put my emotions back in their tiny stuffy box. The very notion nauseates me. I will do whatever else it takes in order to steer myself toward being the person I want to be, but I won’t kill my own emotions just to make things easier for myself.

Easier isn’t always better. It’s just… easier. Sometimes the easiest route is the one that leads straight to your own personal Hell here on Earth.

Sometimes the path of least resistance suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks.

And sometimes happiness takes work. I think that’s one of the ways depression keeps its hold on people : by biasing you against effort in all forms, it cuts you off from the sort of joyful, life-affirming activities that threaten its death grip on you.

To someone suffering from depression’s brutal austerity campaign, the idea that something that requires a large input of energy could be worth it is a total nonstarter – a thought nearly impossible to think, no matter how true.

That does double if it’s a constant input over time, and triple that if it is an expenditure with no clear end point.

For example, I can convince myself to do something uncharacteristically social if it has a time limit. That way, I can mentally anticipate the amount of wherewithal I will need to reserve ahead of time for the event, and in that way I can cope with it.

But if it was something with no set time limit and no easy escape route if I get freaked out and loads of social stimulation from being alone with strangers, there would have to be a really, really good reason for me to be there.

Like money. Or sex. Or a sniper’s sight trained on my forehead. That kind of thing.

Otherwise, I will just stay home, thank you kindly.

I can learn to be more social. And I want to. Very much so.

But I will always be a homebody introvert at heart.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.