What's Wrong with Sarah

What is wrong with me?

There are many answers to that question but they all differ according to the context of what is being asked.  In this particular instance, I am alluding to the fact that no matter what I do, I get no thrill from writing anymore.  I'm sure you've notice my prolonged absences from the blog.  But I've also been neglecting my personal blog, my journal, and the fiction pieces I've had hanging over my head for the past two years.

It's like the minute the thought "I ought to sit down a write something" comes into my head, this switch flips.  It literally feels like a steel barricade comes slamming down, separating my creative juices from whatever receptors send them to my typing fingers.

The mere thought of writing used to get me so jazzed.  I used to go to Stellas at 6 am on Saturdays with my friend AJ and we would write for hours, except that it generally felt like no time at all.  I'd get so wrapped up in my characters, what they were doing and where they were leading me.  The pure adventure of it was enough to get me up that early on my precious weekends.  But now I have this steel barricade.  And this complete apathy towards writing.  But the more I remind myself of things like this last paragraph, the more I want to delve back into my practice.

I've moved, I've settled, and now I'm just wasting time.  I don't have any real excuses to hide behind other than, "I don't know what's wrong with me."  But the idea of just getting over it and writing through that barricade makes it seal itself even tighter.

Two of my goals are to finish a piece I've been working on and to publish something.  I have until March.  And really, I could probably man up and finish one of the stories I've been working on.  The publishing thing has got me a little weak at the knees though.

I haven't asked our readers for much help throughout this process, and maybe I should've a while ago.  But I'm asking for it now.  I'm probably going to need to some encouragement, inquires, and thoughts on how the heck I'm going to pull this publishing thing off.

And I have some questions for you all: Have any of you felt this way about something you loved?  It doesn't have to be writing, it could be anything you were/are passionate about.  Are you still struggling (maybe we could commiserate) or did you come out the other side?  I could use thoughts, tips, advice, anything really to get me out of this slump.