Writing killed my relationship

Few events in real life can be so neatly separated into A + B equalled C. Although the spectacular and sudden ending of my latest attempt at love was certainly not one of them, my writing was at least A. An Accomplice. It played more than a small part in bringing about the end, and whether B was brains, beauty or blame, at least I know the role it played in the break up.

My writing was the unwitting accomplice to a spectacular downfall. It played the map to destruction, providing my ex with directions for where to purchase a relationship-cleaver/ break up-machete. It was probably also the vehicle that drove him to the shop.

I might forever remain an author-in-the-making, but at least I am trying to get somewhere. During the relationship, my writing brought me happiness and achievement with every word, but for him it was the opposite. Every letter was a red pen through his sense of self-worth. My happiness soared whilst his plummeted into a pit of resentment.

As any half-decent author in the making would do, let me set the scene. Had you seen my blog’s publishing history, then you might have guessed the time-line already. Roughly four months before sitting down to write this, I wrote another post. ‘Writing is killing my relationship’. More than slightly ironically, whilst writing it, my now-ex was picking out the murder weapon. As I was publishing it, he was planning how to escape a three year relationship without recrimination. As, if you can believe it, I photographed the cover image for the post, he looked up from his phone and said, ‘We need to talk.’

The published world can be a cruel and inconsiderate place, particularly tough for the newly single and recently broken. Once the cracks have formed, less force is required to shatter the china.

For the following four months, I threw myself into my stories. Unlike blog posts, stories never have to brave the world’s ire. They can remain forever as unpublished manuscripts should you choose it. By definition though, a blog post has to be published. Otherwise it’s a diary entry.

Do I blame my writing for being an accomplice to my relationship’s murder? Not really. If anything, it only sped the end up. Do I blame the relationship for shattering my confidence in my writing? Perhaps, but the super glue has hardened now and you would probably never realise the cracks were there unless you hit really hard.

So to my writing – I’m sorry. I’m sorry for falsely accusing you. I’m sorry for putting you on probation for four months. I think I’m ready to let you back out into the world again now. I would say try not to get into any more trouble, but we both know that’s not possible!

Now… Diary entry or blog post? I guess you’ll already have figured that out if you’re reading this.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Writing killed your relationship? Good. I’m glad.
    A healthy relationship of equals, based in mutual respect and regard, cannot be damaged by anything that is not damaging to those individuals in that relationship. Vice versa, those things that are damaging to a health relationship are those things that are damaging to the individual.

    For example, one might reasonably say “My alcoholism is killing my relationship” or one’s infidelity or heroin addiction or hoarding. What is damaging for the individual is damaging for the relationship.
    In the same vein, one could not reasonably say “My painting is killing my relationship” or one’s singing or reading or knitting. What is beneficial for the individual should not be damaging for the relationship.

    In a healthy relationship, the self-expression, personal growth and success of one’s partner are to be welcomed, supported and rejoiced in. A partner’s success does not diminish one’s self but rather is a source of pleasure and delight. Because I love you, I love to see you succeed in becoming your true self.

    An unhealthy relationship is one where a person views the other as a mere adjunct to themselves. You exist to please me, attend to me when I need it, leave me be when I need it, you orbit me, your success diminishes me.

    Writing killed your relationship? Good. I’m glad. Because if writing killed your relationship, it is better off dead.


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