I Think I Have Writer’s Block and it’s Freaking Me Out

My writing comes from a place of emotion. I’m amateur enough that I need to feel angry, annoyed, amused, too hot, too cold, hungry, thirsty, grouchy, tired, elated, or anxiety-ridden about something mostly trivial to be able to compose an essay.

Except for the past few days, things around here have been going well. I'm not complaining, and I have so many things to be grateful for, but that means my current environment isn’t conducive to writing, and it feels impossible lately - like I can't write anymore.

When I’ve had a quiet moment in the morning or early afternoon, the words haven't come. I want to write because when I can't organize my thoughts, I feel detached and disconnected if that makes sense. If it doesn’t, see I told you I can’t write today.  

I’m concerned because it feels like one of the things I’ve enjoyed doing lately is maybe not there anymore.

No, I don’t believe that. Except I do a little. 

Perhaps I need to worry myself into a frenzy and hope that will make me miserable enough to escape this endless writer's block. Or maybe someone will piss me off soon so I can find my voice.