Coming unstuck, then putting one word after another

A few weeks ago I became totally unstuck. Tears spilled without sobs. I curled on the floor. I got sick. I slept. And slept. And slept. I put one foot in front of the other to just exist. I removed my bio on Instagram. My finger hovered over the 'delete profile' in Twitter, Instagram then my website. I felt like a fraud, like I couldn't do this anymore. Words spoken by a wise writer echoed through my brain that if I couldn't hack it, then I needed to put down my pen.

So I did.

I heard nothing else. 

I waited to hear someone whisper to me that I could do this, but I heard nothing. 

I plodded through my days. Flat, beige. One day after another. 

I turned off my alarm and woke just in time to do my knee exercises, eat, drink coffee and get to work. My laptop ran out of charge. My desk piled up with coat hangers, pieces of paper and dust. 

Then yesterday a workmate who is an artist asked me how my writing was going. I told him I was giving it up. That I wasn't up to it anymore. He paused from preparing the book week display and said, you need to write. He whispered it. A breath. Tiny words. Write. Doesn't matter what the words are. Just write. 

So here I am. One word, then two. Then a sentence or more.