Why we don't write

I read an Adrian Mole novel once, I think it was meant to be the last one in the series, which proclaimed that "happy people don't write".
Just as most of the milestones in my life have had to do with my one significant love story so did this blog. Yes I am in fact pathetic, I attest to it myself.
So I started the blog to prove something to myself especially since I've always considered myself a writer but at the time, in 2012 I wasn't writing. You can't call yourself a writer if you don't write, right?
So the love of my life and I broke up with me and I needed an outlet and did it help...No! because like the idiot I am I then became friends with said ex-boyfriend and then felt like I couldn't post how sad I was feeling or how much I wanted to staple his balls to the cupboard door and kick the shit out of him. Ofcourse not!
In fact the point of this blog became so obscured and so ridiculous that he even started sharing my blog posts on Facebook to all his friends saying how proud of me he was. But no we were not together at this time in fact that show Friendzone became my televised bible.
And then last year in July I got a great job! Maybe not much to some but I was a writer again because I was writing and people were reading. I became the journalist of a community newspaper which is part of a huge South African conglomerate based on advertising. But a journalist none the less. So that, somehow, coincided with him and I trying again. And that literally just happened! One minute we were lying next to eachother on the couch the next minute we were a couple.
And then I literally just stopped writing on this blog. I don't know what it was. Was it the fact that I was expelling my creative angst somewhere else writing about potholes and horse tack being stolen and interviewing owners of music schools and dog-owners whose pets won best in show? Or was it that he and I were together so suddenly I was theoretically "happy" and therefore didn't need a writing outlet anymore? I didn't need anyone else to share my opinions because he shared my opinions, I didn't give a damn what people thought was funny because I entertained him and that's all that mattered.
I don't know. I mean, someone in my newsroom disclosed the shocking fact that she writes four blogs simultaneously! I find this inconceivable because one meeting with a local councilor gets me to bed by 20:30.
Yet somehow I feel like its not the job, its because him and I are on the rocks and there doesn't seem to be a way out. One of my best friend's who is a filmmaker has a theory that women can't create when they're attached while men can only create when they're attached hence muses. I'm inclined to agree.