Who Is Going to Stick Around For This?

Dear Universe,

I was a little hot-headed last night and posted something that this morning maybe felt like a misrepresentation of what I truly believe. I regretted a lot of the wording, which felt way harsher than I’m actually feeling. That post should have been locked away in the “writing I need to get out of my system for my own healing” box (and has since been taken down).

But there’s something else coming through from all of that today, too, Universe. I’m realizing what a struggle it is for me to write raw and unfiltered the way I want to when my insights are coming through interactions with people I care about. I can feel myself writing something and then asking “but how will so-and-so read and interpret this?” Then editing. Then shrinking my truth. Literary masking, if you will.

I don’t want to do that. These letters to you are meant to be my most honest expression of my experience and what goes through my brain in real time. But at the same time there are always going to be people who will be on the edges or even deep inside those experiences who are going to recognize their contributions, and they may not always like what they read.

How do I deal with that as a writer? How do I be true to myself and not (further) alienate the people around me? I mean, who the fuck is going to want to enter my atmosphere if they’re going to have to read about every thought they’ve triggered in my head the day after?

I think about Midge Maisel – my fictional twin flame. Her life is blown up by a man and she says fuck it all and goes on to make an extremely fulfilling career of saying exactly what no one else dares to say. But it comes at a cost. As she says herself “the men in my life are no longer boyfriends or lovers. They’re bits. Fodder for my act.”

And while I don’t see anyone in my life as part of any act, the sentiment is the same – they are walking, talking lesson-triggering fuel for my growth and therefore my writing.

Midge ultimately chooses the career over the relationships (though some do survive and prevail). Does it have to be either/or, Universe? And if that’s the case, which do I choose?

Ugh and again I think some thanks to my ex-husband are in order here. If he hadn’t so spectacularly fucked things up to the point where I truly didn’t care what he thought or how he read my writing, I may not have ever gotten started on this journey in the first place. Your contribution to my creative freedom has been invaluable. Thank you, Joel.

Anyway, I don’t know, Universe.

Or actually maybe I do know and I need to come to terms with what that means. Because I think that this may be the love of my life – my work. My words. My writing. And I guess I need to be willing to choose that love no matter the cost and see who wants to stick around to support me in it.

That scares the shit out of me – the possibility that I will end up alone for choosing this. But here goes nothin’, I guess.

Tits up.

XO – Bailee

July 12, 2026