WHEN YOUR PARTNER IS HURTING

And You Can’t Fix it

About once a week I ask my husband, John, what I should write about here. It’s a lot to keep coming up with original thoughts/feelings, so sometimes I try to outsource my brainstorming. As we sat over breakfast this past Sunday, he said, “You can write about what’s been going on with me.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, my mind started spinning with all the things I could say about what we, and more specifically John, have been going through lately. I felt grateful that he was willing to let me work through it on the page despite being a historically private person.

When I met John in early 2021, he was working on a TV pilot with his old boss turned writing partner. It was a great concept—a disgraced naval officer, the world of private intelligence, a missing ship—and over the course of our growing relationship it sold to a studio and then to a network. It was a huge step in his blossoming career. But then the writers’ strike happened and what was already a long development period stretched even longer as the money dried up. It got to a point where it felt like we would be in limbo forever, never getting to know if his dream was going to be greenlit or not. People would continuously ask for updates and we’d have to reply, no word yet, as they looked at us with shock.

Part of what made the wait so agonizing was how much weighed on the decision. It wasn’t just a question of whether John got to have his own TV show and live out his dream. It was a question of whether we would be able to afford to have a kid. Whether he could continue to write for a living or if he’d need to find income somewhere else. Every time we wanted something from a new couch to a fancy dinner, we would preface it by saying, “If the show goes then we can [insert something appealing].” I felt hopeful that soon the financial burden of our household wouldn’t just be mine to carry. Our lives could drastically change with just one phone call…

Unfortunately, the call he got wasn’t the one we wanted. The network was passing. John’s dream had burst. And I had no way to make it any better.

I’ll admit that I was scared that the bad news would break him. John loves writing and being a writer. Having to potentially put that dream on the back burner for practical reasons wasn’t going to be easy. I knew he needed to grieve the loss of the show and the future it would have provided before being able to figure out what to do next. He needed time to be angry and sad and heartbroken. And I needed to stand by and watch rather than try to speed up the process.

Marriage is a tricky thing because you are both building a life together and maintaining your own sense of self. As much as I wanted to stay solely focused on helping hold his pain, I couldn’t ignore what this news meant for the financial future of our family. I oscillated between feeling terrible that I don’t make enough to sustain us so he could continue pursuing his passion and fighting the urge to immediately switch to problem-solving mode by sending him job postings in other fields.

As someone with expertise in mental health, I also felt an added pressure to handle this extremely fraught moment with absolute grace. How could I have a book coming out about marriage in a few months if I didn’t even know how to properly navigate my own? This pivotal time was an opportunity to show that I am an incredible and thoughtful wife whose own worries and concerns weren’t going to get in the way of such a painful time for my partner. I was going to be his support system and the backbone of the family until he was able to get back on his feet.

Obviously, it didn’t quite work out that way. Some days I succeeded in being the type of partner I wanted to be to him. But other days my own anxiety got the best of me. I found myself spiraling with ungenerous thoughts about the state of the world and how not everyone gets to live their dream. I avoided my own work while perusing LinkedIn for opportunities that offered benefits. I obsessed over whether he would blame me if he doesn’t end up having the career he’s always wanted. And I tried to drum up more opportunities for myself so there would be less pressure on his next move.

It has been an exhausting, sad and terrifying few weeks. But I know enough to know that what I have been experiencing is nothing compared to what he’s had to process inside his own brain and heart. And perhaps more importantly, I also know it’s not my job to make it all better. This is not my burden to bear. But it is my burden to help hold when it gets too heavy for one person.

Despite my missteps, which I now see as inevitable, I am exceedingly thankful that I have a high tolerance for other people’s discomfort. I’m glad that I’m able to watch him grapple with his identity and grief without feeling the need to defuse it for my own wellbeing. I know there isn’t going to be a quick fix, and I can accept that we are going through one of those “hard times” everyone always talks about. This isn’t the outcome we wanted but it is the outcome we will make work (some day in some way).

But one thing I do need to be careful about is not expecting him to behave the same way I would in his situation. We are fundamentally different people, both when it comes to our relationship with writing and how we move through the world. If I hold him to the same expectations I would have for myself, I am setting us both up for resentment. And that is the equivalent of adding fuel to a fire we have been trying to put out. 

It is not my job to direct or manipulate this experience. I need John to find his own way out of this transitional moment. But that doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge my own hurt in all of this while still doing my best to cheer him on. And talk endless shit about that network for making a big mistake.

xoxo,

Allison

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