Writing After a Break: My Comeback to the Page

“I didn’t write for six months. Not because I ran out of words. Not because I didn’t want to. But because life happened.”

And life, here it means standing in front of a classroom full of curious faces. The kind of life that doesn’t give you any warning signs. It just shifts. Slowly, silently. Until one day, you realize you haven’t touched your blog or journal.

It’s not that I stopped writing completely. It’s just that for a while, being an educator took over everything else.

Teaching isn’t a job that stays in the classroom. It spills into your evenings, your thoughts, and your weekends. It becomes the stories you live. But somewhere in the middle of those stories, I lost the space to write them down.

I told myself it was just a phase, that I’d write again soon. But days turned into weeks, and then months. And with every passing day, getting back to writing started to feel harder, like trying to jump back onto a moving train. Because now you know how much effort it takes. You know the vulnerability. The perfectionism creeps in. The pressure to sound “worth reading.” And the energy? Well, sometimes it’s all spent by 5 PM on a Tuesday.

Growth Doesn’t Always Look Like Movement

In those six months, I learned many things about growth. I learnt that growth doesn’t always look like action. Sometimes, growth is invisible. It’s quiet. While sometimes, it’s more about choices. Choosing to listen more than speak, choosing to learn from every person you meet, choosing to write rather than cribbing about what to write. While sometimes, it’s just about surviving another day.

I met people—students with brave hearts, teachers with quiet wisdom, and parents who carried both hope and pride in their eyes. Each encounter taught me something.
From one student, I learned the strength of silence. While the quiet power of showing up, again and again, from another. I learned that people with knowledge and intelligence are good, but people with humility and compassion are gold.

And somewhere in between lesson plans and laughter, I unlocked many personal milestones apart from teaching and learning: organizing full-scale events, leading stage performances, and celebrating the success of my students. They weren’t shared online, but they mattered to me deeply.

But Writing? Writing Felt Distant.

Writing has always been my way to process the world. But in this long pause, I found myself processing life in different ways. Through my students. Through conversations that never made it to a blog post and through moments I didn’t try to capture or share.

Coming back to this page, to this identity, felt overwhelming. I questioned myself more.

“What if no one reads anymore?”
“What if I’m not the same person who once used to write with such clarity?”

But here’s the thing— I see that my experiences didn’t take me away from writing—they enriched it. Even seasoned writers go through this. Creative comebacks require grace, not pressure.

Writing after a break is harder!

Here’s the truth: starting something from scratch is hard. But starting over, after taking a break, sometimes feels impossible. Not because I’ve forgotten how to write. But because starting again feels much heavier. There’s an invisible pressure: to pick up where I left off, to be as consistent, as creative, as insightful as before.

So maybe I don’t need to pick up where I left off. Maybe I just need to pick up from where I am now.

So, here I am. Showing up. Imperfectly, but honestly.

What Comes Next?

I don’t have a detailed plan. But I do know that I like writing. And so, I will keep showing up. To write about moments that felt insignificant at that time, but now feel like turning points, and to honor my journey.

So today, as I type these words, I don’t aim for a viral post or a perfect blog.
I just want to return. To my voice, to my page, to the part of me that still believes in penning down my thoughts, even if it’s messy or late.

If You’re Also Coming Back After a Break..

Whether you’re returning to writing, creating, or just yourself—be gentle. It’s okay to start slow. It’s okay to feel unsure. And it’s okay if your “comeback” doesn’t look like fireworks.

Mine doesn’t either. But it’s honest. And that feels enough.