It’s been two days since I returned fro Furcationland 2025: Fuzzytown Fair in Portland, Maine, and the post-convention depression has hit me hard. To make matters worse, I discovered I lost my convention badge somewhere between the closing ceremonies and the hotel checkout. That badge was more than just a plastic card—it was a memento of my first Furcationland experience and my first time volunteering at a furry convention.

My Furcationland Journey

My dad drove me up to Portland for the convention, and we stayed together in a hotel. Little did I expect that by the end of the weekend, I’d be going home with staff members from the con instead—a testament to the connections I made in just those few days.

Though Furcationland officially ran Thursday through Sunday, I was only there Friday through Sunday. I arrived early Friday morning, bubbling with excitement and nervousness. I was the second person in line at registration, right behind someone who would become my closest friend at the con, Kitsu. Standing there together, chatting about the weekend ahead, I felt a sense of belonging that’s hard to find in my everyday life.

My Volunteer Experience

This was my first time volunteering at a con, and I was assigned to badge checking. Armed with a volunteer lanyard a sense of purpose, I diligently verified attendees’ badges at various entry points. The responsibility gave me a unique perspective on the convention—I got to see everyone who came through, from well-known fursuiters to shy first-timers.

For the most part, volunteering was a positive experience. The staff treated me like family, and I felt like I was contributing to the community I love. I learned the inner workings of convention operations, gained confidence in speaking to strangers, and earned respect from my fellow volunteers, Volta and V0smi. During my shifts, my goat persona came in handy—I could be as stubborn as needed when enforcing the rules while still maintaining a friendly demeanor.

The Darker Moments

Not everything was perfect, though. Two incidents left lasting impressions.

The first occurred during one of my breaks. I was in the bathroom when someone entered and began acting overly creepy—making uncomfortable comments and lingering too close. As a person with social anxiety, this triggered a mental breakdown. I found myself trembling in a stall, trying to compose myself before my next shift. One of my fellow volunteers noticed my absence and checked on me via our internal Telegram group, which I’ll forever be grateful for.

The second incident was even more disturbing. Someone identifying themselves as Lumin appeared at my friend’s room—someone I had just met at the trans umbrella panel. The violation of safety and privacy sent shockwaves through our little group. The incident left us all feeling vulnerable in what should have been a safe space.

Post-Con Depression: A Deeper Look

Now, two days after returning home, I’m experiencing the full spectrum of post-convention depression symptoms, and they’re hitting harder than I expected:

Emotional Symptoms:

• Profound emptiness: I catch myself staring at walls, my con items laid out but untouched
• Intense longing: I keep rewatching con videos, trying to recapture feelings that are already fading
• Social withdrawal: I’ve declined invitations from local friends because they “wouldn’t understand”
• Identity disconnect: Going from “Volunteer Tabitha the Goat” back to “regular human me” feels like losing a piece of myself
• Grief-like feelings: I’m mourning the end of connections and experiences that felt so vibrant and real

Physical Symptoms:

• Fatigue: Despite sleeping 10+ hours, I still feel exhausted
• Appetite changes: I haven’t been hungry since returning home
• Restlessness: I pace around my room, unable to settle into any activity
• Sleep disturbances: I dream of the convention and wake up disoriented

Cognitive Symptoms:

• Difficulty concentrating: Simple tasks like reading emails feel overwhelming
• Time distortion: Minutes drag while hours fly by without productivity
• Rumination: I overthink interactions from the con, wondering if I said the right things
• Decision paralysis: Even choosing what to eat feels impossible

The lost badge has become a physical symbol of my PCD—something precious, now gone, that I can never get back. It’s not just a piece of plastic; it represents belonging, memories, and an identity I could fully embrace for those three magical days.

Coping Strategies

I’m trying to work through this emotional aftermath with some intentional coping strategies:

1. Creating a memorial: I’m making a collage of stuff from the con, incorporating elements from my favorite moments at the con.
2. Maintaining connections: I’ve added friends I made to a group chat, including Kitsu and others that i met.
3. Physical grounding: When the emotional wave hits, I hold my fursuit paws and /or tail, focusing on the texture, reminding myself that the experience was real.
4. Scheduled re-entry: I’m gradually reintroducing my regular activities rather than diving back into normal life all at once.
5. Planning for next time: I’ve already registered for another furcon, giving me something concrete to look forward to.

Finding Meaning in the Experience

Despite the post-con blues and the troubling incidents, my first Furcationland experience was transformative. Volunteering gave me purpose and community. The trans umbrella panel connected me with others who understand both my furry identity and my gender journey. Even the difficult moments taught me something about resilience and the importance of community support.

As I sit here in my room, my fur paws and fox tail hanging on my bedpost instead of proudly displayed on my body, I remind myself that the furry community exists beyond convention walls. The connections I made are real. The identity I embraced is valid. And the friends who saw me—truly saw me—as Tabitha the Goat are still my friends, even when we’re miles apart.

Post-con depression is the price we pay for experiencing something beautiful and temporary. It hurts because it mattered. And though I may have lost my physical badge, no one can take away the memories of those three days when I was fully myself, bleating with joy among my kind.

Bleat you later, Tabitha