So, obviously this whole "writing more" thing has kind of fallen apart.
The reasons vary from tedious to nonexistent to unimportant to anyone who isn't me, so we'll set that aside.  That isn't the point today, and I'd prefer to keep this as brief as possible, because even thinking about writing this is terrifying me.

There are two things that I've been trying to do lately, both related and both at least in part as a response to getting older.  The first is to develop more relationships with people, which I'll talk about in a bit.  The second is to be more honest.

Understand that when I say "be more honest", I am not speaking about lying.  As a rule with one single, specific exception, I do not lie.  That fact is very, very important to me.  It is a part of my core.  No, I don't mean lying, except by way of omission.  I generally don't offer more information about myself than is strictly necessary, save for a few people very close to me and, well, right here.  So when I say that I'm trying to be more honest, I mean that I am trying to be more open about who I am, which is difficult for reasons that will soon be clear.

I am trying to develop relationships with people, both known to me and new.  (Note that I do not specifically mean romantic relationships.  While I have tried a few times, I have all but written that off.)  This is extremely difficult for me.  (I've just spent ten minutes cringing and trying to figure out how to put this next bit.)

Depending on how well you know me, this may come as a surprise, but I've been dealing with moderate (rarely severe) depression and anxiety issues for twenty years.  This is the first time I have ever addressed this publicly.  I do not, in fact, think that I have ever addressed it this clearly and simply, even to people I trust.  I've preferred to let the symptoms speak for themselves and let people discern for themselves as much as they are comfortable with.  This, specifically, is the thing I decided to be more honest about.  (For the record, the fear adrenaline is flowing hard enough right now to make my back hurt.)

You can probably now understand the problem.  Trying to both meet new people and be closer to older ones is something I find incredibly intimidating and exhausting by itself, but adding in the openness of WHY that is...well, it's something that I literally can't describe to you.  Without being in the same situation, it's something that you cannot possibly understand.  But that's good.  I am thrilled that you can't, because it is a level of terror and effort that no one should have to know, and something I wouldn't wish on anyone.  But I'm trying.  I'm trying very hard, and it has taken a toll.  I'm always tired, even more than normal, which is itself...more than normal.  It has also taken my already brittle patience beyond breaking too many times.

That stress took me too far this weekend, which is what spurred this whole rambling mess.  An interaction that I won't reproduce here led me to finally call someone out for pretending to be sympathetic, and I later wrote on Twitter, "Don't pretend to care about people because you'd feel guilty if you didn't. Even shitty people deserve better than that."

So now I have to figure out for myself whether these two things I've decided to do need to stop.  Whether they're hurting me more than helping.  I'm even more broken than normal, snippier and stressed out.  I'm good at hiding it publicly, what with the long years of practice, but that outburst this weekend means that it may have gone too far.  I don't know.  Advice, while normally appreciated, won't help me here, so please don't.  I know you mean well.  This is too close to the bone, and I have to decide my own way to go on this.  We'll see.

Oh, and one last note, and one that I hope helps:  When someone admits to you that he or she is depressed, please, PLEASE, do not EVER say "About what?"  You (hopefully) have no idea how damaging it is to have the issue diminished like that.