No one really talks about how much a toxic relationship can mess with your creativity. It’s not always about dramatic fights or chaos—it’s the slow, everyday erosion of your energy. As an artist, your work depends on having something left in the tank. But when you’re with someone who constantly takes—your time, your energy, your focus—there’s not much left for you, let alone your art.
I spent almost three years as someone’s everything. Caretaker, therapist, life coach, cook, emotional support system—you name it. And while I was pouring into them, there was no one pouring into me. No interest in my projects, no real support for what drives me. Just silence. Or worse, resistance. That kind of dynamic doesn’t just wear you out—it empties you creatively.
I’d come home from tattooing all day, from pouring my energy into my clients and my craft, and he wouldn’t even ask what I did at work. Not one question. And I have a pretty badass job—I make permanent art. I help people tell stories on their skin. I was out here building something real.
I even made the cover of a tattoo magazine—like, front cover, published, legit—and when I texted him to tell him, he didn’t even respond. Nothing. Not even a “congrats.” That moment told me everything I needed to know.
And it wasn’t just my creativity that suffered—my health did, too. I was recovering from a pulmonary embolism and two tick-borne illnesses, and I just couldn’t seem to get better. I’d start to make progress, then fall back into exhaustion, brain fog, pain. But every time I put distance between us—my health would improve. My body would literally begin to heal. And when he came back into my life? The decline would start all over again. That wasn’t a coincidence. It was a pattern.
When you don’t have someone to reflect your light back, to hype your work, to create space for you to breathe and build—you start to dim. And that’s exactly what happened to me. I stopped doing the things that made me feel alive because I was too busy helping someone else hold themselves together. That’s not love. That’s emotional labor disguised as loyalty. But here’s the part that matters: I got out. It wasn’t easy but I let go of that dead weight, and I can finally feel my spark coming back. It’s subtle at first—more ideas, more clarity, more energy—but it’s real.
The fog’s lifting. I can create again. I can think about what I want again. And more than anything, I can feel excited to make things for me, not just keep someone else afloat.
So if you’ve been feeling blocked, burnt out, or stuck—maybe it’s not your art. Maybe it’s your environment. Maybe it’s who you’re giving your energy to. Because the truth is, your creativity can’t thrive in a place where you’re constantly being drained. You don’t have to stay there. You’re allowed to choose yourself. (And I know he’ll never see this—he never once read a single blog post I wrote.)
