Quid Novum Infernum

Cats. We got 'em. We were looking for a bonded pair, and found a bonded triple. ( Threesome sounds, um, slash-y?) Semi-feral, about six months old, and basically identical grey  mackerel tabbies : we can only tell them apart when they're next to each other. Collectively they're known as the Tripkitlets. (So yes, I resisted Catenae . You're welcome.) We're not fond of the names the shelter gave them, and are thinking of re-naming them. I think it sows confusion at the vet's office when we do that, but we keep re-nicknaming our fur people and then referring to them by the new nicknames, so I imagine the vet's used to it. For now I'll refer to them individually as Catalyst, Catapult, and Catenary, for the one that instigates, the one that leaps away, and the one that curls up. There are no pictures because the Tripkitlets know that cameras and phones will steal their souls. Also loud  noises, people who stand, people who move major muscle groups, and ...

Things are getting dark. Again. Looking for a therapist. Again. Good grief (see what I did there?), it's difficult.  I can find 43 reviews on the local fried-potato food truck, but therapists? Uh-uh. And I think therapy could possibly help.  I don't believe I'm a bad-brain-chemistry depressive: yes, I'm on anti-depressants, but I'm also very bad at remembering medication when things go dark, and the analytical part of my brain hasn't noticed that it makes any difference at all. In contrast, if TDO forgets meds for two days, it's obvious to us both. TDO also responds positively to a much narrower range of medications than I do; essentially, any SSRI seems to mute the worst of it for me. But that's also all it does: mute. Turn down the volume. That's enough to get me out of bed and to work most days, but it's also still a crappy way to live most days.  So I think I'm a molded-by-bad-experiences depressive. And talk therapy seems to be the ...

The ever-impressive Captain Awkward cuts to the heart of the issue once more -- two separate issues, actually, because that is how damn impressively she rolls. Briefly: a young woman writes that her non-neurotypical male acquaintance, who has confessed to an unreciprocated crush on her, continues to text her after she's told him she needs space.  What oh what to do?  We people -- lady-parts people, social-anxiety people, diversity-valuing people -- we know that's just the start of the question, right? We need a solution that won't hurt his feelings, that we can be sure isn't disrespecting him, that answers his questions and doesn't leave us feeling guilty. These are the implicit conditions for our response, yes? No, says the Captain. Not just no, but hell no: " Block him and be done with this tedious mess ", she advises (bold from the original).  And regarding the conditions? The beginning of her response is a master class in Everybody Is Respons...