OK, I haven’t been gone, really. But let me just say that when you work at home like I do, and things go wrong with one part of the work/life balance, it all goes to shit.

I have no one to blame, really, but myself. Just because you can do a job doesn’t mean that you should take the damned thing. And sure, the first six months were filled with energy, ego-stroking attention, and other good things.

But the travel killed me. It really did. And the more I travelled, the less I slept, the less energy I had, the more introverted I became, the more useless to pretty much every freaking person in the universe I became. I imploded.

Unfortunately, I denied much of it up until the end. And then one day, WOOSH, it crushed me into a little tiny ball and spit me out.

I should have seen it coming. But few trapped inside the event horizon can see beyond it. Thankfully, the collapse freed me from the things that had prevented me from seeing the problem — a problem that, admittedly, I’ve struggled with before. I had fallen down the not-writing rabbit hole again, and it took all my creativity and ability to think rationally along with it.

And now I have emerged. Well, I emerged last month, really, but I’m still sorting my shit out.