For some reason, I'm assigned a lot of articles about mood disorders and back surgery. The universe is ridiculous.
This is as far as I've gotten today:
"I'm taking the month of April to get caught up on not getting caught up in my own head, to write more, to reach out to those with whom I've lost touch just trying to keep afloat.
To my friends who have been patient and have been there waiting, thank you for your understanding. To those who have forgotten about me and those that wish I would be less vocal about my ongoing struggle, I express my disappointment, not anger. I may not be the face you think of when you think of autism, chronic pain, or chronic health problems, but that is entirely why I share so much. People deal with far more complex issues than they let others see. I desire a world in which people are free to share what hurts and heals them, rather than feel ashamed of being human.
This world is more than selfies, good reads, and bitter queens. I want to share my soul, and I want to see yours.
You see, I've always felt that the voice I use when writing is my real voice. Everything else is an approximation. An imperfect translation. The written word is the first way I learned to connect with myself, to reflect and learn to deal with a world that could never understand how I'm wired. I can feel more emotion in perfectly placed punctuation than in trying to decipher the sadness in a stranger's face. This is how I am able to think. To love. I feel the rhythm of the written words, but not the spoken words.
Not writing feels like having duct tape over my mouth.
We're not what or who you think we are. Then again, that's usually how it works."
Whether or not I follow through with anything is up for debate. I've felt nauseous and fatigued for several days. I need to sleep.