She asked what I got from the moments where I got argumentative. Did I need to be right? What was it? We wandered about a bit. Finally, I paused before exclaiming what was surely the answer. It came back to resentment of authority, of having been told that things I could prove were wrong were how it was, and that had flavored me. "You have no authority figures in your life now, though," she said. "And I'm sure you're not trying to make people feel how you felt." I conceded all of that. "What would it be like if you just had someone telling you anything you suggested was wrong, and then devaluing you?" I knew she was exaggerating for a point, and at the same time, I pointed out I knew: it would be like college. Regardless, there was no reason I'd want anyone, especially a friend, to feel that way either.
We elaborated a new set of 3 month goals for me, ambitious but not impossible, and I headed out for tea. As I drank, I reflected on how far I'd come; We weren't focusing on issues of being more fully myself at all. Instead, we had focused almost entirely at simply being a better version of who I already am. How far we'd come in a year... HEY!
And then I remembered. I checked the calendar again. A year ago, 12 months to the day, after visiting my doctor, I got a prescription filled, applied a patch to myself, and then walked out of the coffeeshop I was in that day for a picture. I stood against a mural on the wall a couple feet from where I had been a moment before, a mural I had watched the renowned artist place when he randomly showed up nearly 5 years earlier. I'd spent that weekend reflecting on and confirming to myself the answer to a question, and so after carefully composing a picture, I shared it with a short message sharing that answer: "Say hi to Daria."