The Road to Being Neurotypical

This demands an explanation, namely an explanation of why the five year long absence happened. I'm going to keep it simple and focus on the emotional side vice all the external factors that contributed. In short, I stopped giving a shit about writing. Because I wasn't getting anything out of it, and the only reason I'm still writing for you people is because it's more of a compulsion than anything else. 

That said, you're probably wondering what this has to do with being neurotypical, or you're probably sitting back in your chair with a knowing smile.

In either case, you're wrong. 

If you've dealt with any type of mental illness, you're familiar with the "therapy-meds-quit therapy-quit meds" cycle of psycho-emotional sodomy five times over. But what if I told you that shit has no plans, and no way of stopping? And no I haven't even come close to letting the cat out of the bag yet. The best you can hope for is days where self-care is productive and not a slippery slope into wearing the same clothes for three days and not cleaning your cat's litter for five. 

This shit is not going away.

You probably thought "Oh, another article about mental illness that I can relate to," and maybe this is relating too damn hard. And hell, that was my intention when I put type to page. But I'm starting to realize the hopelessness of it all. I'm going to work, work-out and sleep until my wheels fall off and they toss me in the junkyard. 

I don't even know why I wrote this. Go to hell.