Honestly, I felt I had nothing to say.
It took me a while to unpick it but that's because it was tangled in how I felt about my job, my relationships, and how I was comparing myself to everyone else. And everyone else was saying it all but, to my mind, better and there's so much clutter around anyway so why throw my opinion into the ether.
It took quitting my job and getting a new one to realise how unhappy I'd been at work. It may sound like that would be the exact thing that would make me want to write reams and reams of words. Creativity loves misery, right? Not always and certainly not in my case. The problem was I hadn't realised how unhappy I was until I found myself complaining (again) to friends about how I was being paid a reasonable salary but wasn't allowed to choose plates for the staff kitchen even though that was my job. There was more than that but goddamn, those plates! They were the straw that broke me.
Then it got to the point where I hadn't written or created anything for so long that surely I couldn't do it any more. I was scared that the one thing that I knew I was reasonably ok at would have disappeared and then what would I be left with?
So I looked to quit my job and get a new one. Which is easier said than done but after several rejections, and starting to lose heart, I got a phone call from an agency I'd never heard of to say they had a job they thought I'd be perfect for. And a week later, I was able to hand my notice in and it felt like a weight I didn't even know I'd had was lifted.
Then I had a few conversations with people and here we are and I guess I'm back but you'll be reading slightly different things. Don't worry, I'll still be chatting about shoes that I like but the scope of my mind dumping isn't going to be as narrow. Sorry. Actually, not sorry.