When I decided not to participate 100% in NaNoWriMo, I had no idea that I would barely write a word over the whole month. The idea that a whole month would go by without a word written never even occurred to me. The world, however, continued to spin on as I refused to put pen to paper.
I would not open a processor, I would not scribble a page. Everything whirled by too fast, and occasionally an arm reaching out of the whirlwind to stab at me with guilt.
It's not a puzzle why I didn't write, there were things that overwhelmed my life and a certain problem I could (can) not talk about. So... instead of writing, I watched, listened, ignored, fought, and lost the battle to stay afloat.
It's not that I want to go preachy, but I do have to say this: there is nothing, nothing I have apart from Christ Jesus that is worth having. If there is a way out of this hole, he's going to lead me to it. First, it is him, always him. But now, like so many other times, he puts the pen in my hand.
Madeleine L'Engle writes, "I have often been asked if my Christianity affects my stories, and surely it is the other way round; my stories affect my Christianity, restore me, shake me by the scruff of the neck, and pull this straying sinner into an awed faith." -Walking on Water
For her, and for me, Christianity and writing are too intertwined to be able to be separated. Once I reached the point where I could no longer ignore the waves of love pouring into me, I found I could no longer ignore my stories.
I don't think that you have to be a Christian for this to apply to you. Why aren't you writing? Why is the desire gone? Why does it hurt too much?
I think it's because writing requires you to put absolutely everything you have out in front so you can have room to delve into the deeper waters. And if you're afraid of what's going on in those darker recesses of your mind, you won't do it.
It'll heal you, if you let it.