queer advice #97: writing hell
"I’ve just broken up with my girlfriend of three years..."
Hey! Happy Wednesday to everyone except Republicans. Today’s queer advice is about a bad relationship and how hard it is to be a writer—two things I know something about, lol. I realized I’ve never given writing advice before, not because nobody ever asks, but because I don’t feel secure enough in my craft (I shudder to even say the word). I liked this question because it’s a chance to get into all those big, neurotic feelings about money, success, and work. I think this is applicable to anyone who feels creative and isn’t sure whether to approach it like a job or a delicate hobby, and where money fits in to all of that. I’m still working through my feelings about this one, so let me know in the comments if anything needs more time in the oven.
Thank you so much for reading and supporting TV Dinner. It’s a dream come true for me that you’re here. If you have a question for queer advice, you can find the submission guidelines and instructions here.
xoxo, Maddy
⭐ Quick note: this column describes an abusive relationship, though there are no graphic descriptions or physical violence. If that sounds like a bad time, read this queer advice instead. It’s about dating someone with a lot more money than you.
Dear Maddy, I’ve just broken up with my girlfriend of three years. It was my first relationship. I am a writer and kept having financial stability/ housing issues in our first two years. I was doing really well aesthetically, but all of the glossy projects I was working on were paying me peanuts. She worked in corporate. On the surface, she seemed so mature, stable and grown up. I think I was in awe of that, and that she was beautiful, clever, financially independent and killing it in her field. It took getting to know her better to learn that she had some really deep trauma that kept leaking out all over our relationship.
From less than 4 months in she described me as ‘her rock’ and put a lot of pressure on me to meet all of her emotional needs. It was like she was independent as a single person, but sought out a relationship so that she could be taken care of 100%. She also threw herself into the relationship and stopped putting as much effort into her friends. If I suggested she go to therapy or speak to someone else other than me, she would cry and say I was being mean or rejecting her.
She had a salary that I couldn’t match, and didn’t seem to realise that this made our expectations of lifestyle totally different. As time went on, she compared herself to her colleagues relentlessly and would nag me that I was holding her back from doing things that her colleagues did, like getting engaged, having children, buying houses, pets, skiing, living on farms, weekend getaways in remote rural places, living in predominantly white suburban areas with young families etc. All of this sounded like hell on earth to me. I always wanted a creative, queer, weird, diverse circle of friends; to live in a big city, have a thriving creative practice and be unencumbered by children or caring responsibilities.
At home, I found myself in this weird situation where I was doing all of the housework; all of the social calendar planning; food shopping; meal planning etc, while she excelled in her career. I also had a job and was self-employed as a writer, but I was always so distracted and drained (and stressed about money) that I lost the joy from writing and burnt out.
Domestically she was not on top of things - I am talking mould on dishes & dirty laundry left too long; mites in the kitchen; not taking care of herself at all down to not bathing or brushing her teeth or eating regularly. I complained about the inequity in domestic stuff and would be told that I was being mean and what she really needed was my help to learn new skills. She would say things like ‘I have less time than most people’ as if her work was more important than my work and my writing. Instead of just leaving, I poured energy into teaching her ‘how’ to look after herself and her space. But all that would happen is she would do it once with heavy supervision, then it would fall back into chaos again a few weeks later. I felt like a mother/therapist/secretary/maid to my own partner. We fought all the time and it completely killed my romantic vibe.
I could never get time to myself, even to think, never mind write. Before we moved in together, if i asked for a few days to myself she would always interrupt it. If I went away with my friends she would generate some sort of personal crisis and call me crying in the middle of my trip. She encouraged me to make her birthday my security code to show that I cared about her (and I did it), she said having it as my own birthday was selfish. She didn’t want me to watch TV uninterrupted for 45 minutes if it meant that I wasn’t available to listen to her. If I had solo hobbies, she would campaign to be invited; same with my Whatsapp groups with mutual friends. If I said no she would pressure me relentlessly. I would try to hold to these boundaries so I got some time to myself but it was exhausting being in a constant negotiation. I also got a sense that nothing was ever enough.
If we would argue before bed, she wouldn’t let us go to sleep until it had been ‘resolved’. We would have these circular conversations where our attempts to resolve the situation caused a new argument and we would be up until 3am trying to hash it out. I would say ‘I’m tired, I need to go to bed’ but then she would say that I don’t care or I’m choosing to be angry with her or she would cry. If I left the room and tried to sleep on the sofa, she would follow me to continue the conversation. It was like I wasn’t allowed to sleep until she felt happy. Even if I started out trying to calmly raise that she had done something that upset me, the whole situation would turn heated and crazy but I would always end up apologising that I had been ‘hurtful’ to her.
There were some times that were really horrible. Fights where she would gaslight me, or yell in my face, or call names, or slam doors, or knock things over that belonged to me (she never hit me, i just want to say). I was really stressed, with work stuff and family stuff as well. I stopped writing for over a year. I didn't have the headspace and felt like I had so many immediate problems to address that would not be helped by daydreaming.
We broke up after a year because we kept fighting. But then got back together after a week. She got in touch for a ‘closure chat’, during which I panicked that I had made the wrong decision or not tried hard enough to make it work and begged for us to try again. So we had a further two years of the exact same dynamic but more intense. We moved to the capital city (just two small town girls chasing their creative and business girlboss dreams!). We were far away from our familiar support networks and it obviously got worse.
I would lose my mind crying like a child. Or feeling stressed and scared that I didn't trust who I was living with. Or I would be the one to lose it and yell about being the only person doing any cleaning, laundry, cooking. It was super stressful. We would fight every morning and evening outside of work. Then I would be drained and distracted all day. We broke up for the second time because she was pressuring me very heavily into getting married, despite me being clear that I didn't want that.
Looking back on it, I think my ex was mentally ill, especially with the not looking after her body or her home stuff. But I didn't know her or anyone well enough to realise that. She seemed quite together because of her professional persona, but I would notice that her friends got the fun, charming, charismatic version of her and I got the dark, troubled version who had issues. I was so overwhelmed and unequipped to deal with it.
In addition, she was not fully out to her parents. They knew she was queer and hated that about her. But they didn’t know about me. We are both women of colour, but her parents are religious, homophobic AND racist. Once she asked me to lie down on the floor at her house so her mum, who had popped round for an unplanned visit, couldn’t see me through the windows. It was stressful. She told me from fairly early that meeting her parents wasn’t on the cards. When we first met, it didn’t bother me because she didn't speak to them anyway and I didn’t feel like I needed to meet a near strangers parents. As time went on, she rekindled that relationship and it felt like a bigger issue to me, as I felt like someone that could ‘ruin’ that new closeness with her family.
If we were out in public she wouldn’t want to hold hands or kiss or even link arms, but she would be all over me in private. She would say that I was an exhibitionist and only wanted to kiss her if other people were looking, or that ‘people will think that you’re my gay best friend who is in love with me.’ I just wanted to be relaxed and comfortable enough to hold hands in public and look like a couple, not two strangers. Just like any 16-year-old straight couple could do. It hurt my feelings a lot but I tried to be understanding about not forcing affection when someone is uncomfortable. But then at home she would want to be intimate and I would have lost my enthusiasm. A month after we broke up, she told her mum ‘if you cant accept me being gay then we can’t have a relationship’, which is something I had advised her to do years ago. She always belittled me when I advised her to do this that I didn’t understand and it ‘wasn’t that easy’. It feels like a slap in the face having been kept a secret girlfriend for three years.
I felt so scared that I was a late bloomer in my first relationship, with no experience. I was a super feminist, virgin spinster teenager who lived in the library and knew exactly what I thought about life and the world. Everything was very clear to me then.
Now I am so far from who I thought I was in terms of self respect and what I would/ wouldn’t tolerate as a younger person. I am really embarrassed that I was in this relationship so long, and that I am somebody who would preach that its better to be alone than unhappy. But I obviously didn’t believe that for myself.
After one serious relationship, I have fast forwarded to feeling old and tired. I tried to be careful in not moving too fast. We didn’t move in together until 2 years in. But we still went through a 30 year marriage including divorce, pressed into 3 years. Also for context, I have recently started therapy. It has taken me this long to be able to afford it and even now, it is a stretch. But something I definitely want to continue.
Sorry I know that was super long, hopefully detailed enough for you to respond to whatever jumps out at you. Please feel free to edit it down if you do use this. Here are my questions: What are your headline thoughts about this relationship? Would you describe it as abusive? Or was it just two people who aren’t well matched for each other?
How did you manage to sustain the early, precarious period of being self-employed as a writer? I did a lot of hospitality then got tired of being the elderly waitress with 16 year old colleagues. I went full self employed but I just couldn’t make it work for me. I was losing my mind chasing late payments for really low fees, stressing about rent, bills and food costs. It put me in some super vulnerable situations that were not good for my health. Then I got a day job in creative-corporate but it was really demanding and inflexible so my personal projects took a back seat. Do you have any tips of industries that can work for writers as a day job? Or how to strategise that next level of my career where self-employment can work? Must I go back to university for post grad and take on more debt?
How do I get back into writing in a small steps, gentle way that is actually enjoyable and a creative lifestyle that is separate from needing to sell commercially viable stories to make money? I hate the precarity of the business side of writing, but I still want to write. Is that insane?
Daydreamer, 29 (328)
Full transparency, Daydreamer: I edited your question for length. You’re a writer!! Of course you’re going to write and I get the sense that you banged this out whilst feeling both confused and totally unmoored about wtf just happened and like you needed to record everything as soon as possible. I only needed a few of these examples to definitively say that yes, your ex was abusive. The paradoxes you’re describing are classic dynamics that abusers set up to make their victims feel emotionally exhausted and disoriented i.e. your partner constantly belittled and criticized you, but also depended on you to function, she treated you with disdain one day and wanted to get married the next. Relationships should not feel miserable and off the fucking rails, even when there’s conflict (for resources on intimate partner violence and abuse in queer wlw relationships, see the comments section of queer advice #86). I can’t say if your partner is mentally ill or not--mental illness is neither an excuse nor explanation for abuse--but it’s safe to say that she’s in a lot of pain and doesn’t have the coping skills to deal with her emotions in a healthy, effective way. I promise that as interesting and complex as she seems to you right now, there’s nothing even remotely novel about abusers. Hurt people hurt people. A lot of people are good at their jobs and total messes in other areas of their life. It’s extremely common.