Bitch Fest: Unfiltered Advice on Life's Unspoken Truths

LETTER 1

Dear Bitch Fest,

I've been with my partner for 7 years. We have a life that looks pretty good on paper, good jobs, nice apartment, solid friend group. For our anniversary, they bought me a Peloton. A PELOTON. I'm not an exercise person. I've never expressed interest in spinning. When I asked why, they said, "You've been complaining about not having time for self-care, so I thought this would help you prioritize yourself!"

Now I have a $2,000 reminder of how little they know me taking up space in our bedroom, and I'm fantasizing about either selling it and taking a solo vacation or using it to barricade them in the bathroom. Is that too harsh?

- Spinning With Rage

Dear Spinning With Rage,

Let me get this straight: Your partner's solution to you not having enough time was to give you another obligation? One that comes with its own special shoes and a monthly subscription fee? And they wrapped up "you should work out more" in a self-care bow and expected gratitude?

The audacity is almost impressive.

Here's what's happening: Your partner heard "I need more support" and translated it to "I should help you fix yourself" rather than "maybe I should step up more." It's the fitness equivalent of buying someone a vacuum cleaner, a gift that creates work disguised as a treat.

The Peloton isn't the real issue here. It's what it represents: the fundamental misunderstanding of what you actually need and want. And that's where the rage comes from, not the machine itself, but the gap between being known and being assumed.

So no, fantasizing about barricading them in the bathroom isn't too harsh (though maybe keep that one to yourself for insurance purposes). But before you turn the Peloton into a very expensive clothes hanger, try this:

"I need to talk about the Peloton. I know you meant well, but this gift made me feel unseen and misunderstood. When I talk about needing self-care, I'm really saying I need more support with our shared life, not another thing on my to-do list. I'd like to return it and use that money for something that would actually replenish me, like household help or time away, and then have a bigger conversation about what support really looks like for me."

If they get defensive, hold your ground. This isn't about gratitude; it's about communication. And if they truly want to help you prioritize yourself, they can start by actually listening to what you want instead of prescribing what they think you need.

Whatever you do, don't force yourself onto that bike out of guilt. Life's too short to spend your precious free time doing something that makes you seethe with resentment. That's not self-care, it's self-punishment.

And for what it's worth? I'm betting there's a hot secondary market for barely-used Pelotons.

“Each ping is just code for: ‘Please stop being a person and start being my solution.’”

LETTER 2

Dear Bitch Fest,

I want to run away every time someone says my name. It's constant. From the moment I wake up until I finally sleep, it's texts and Slacks and emails and IMs, all needing my immediate attention. Even when my roommates are RIGHT THERE, people still come to me. Yesterday I locked myself in the bathroom and put in earbuds just to not hear my phone ping for five minutes.

I love my friends and colleagues more than anything, but I'm starting to think I should change my name and move to a cabin in the woods. Am I a monster?

- My Name My Name My Name

Dear My Name × 3,

If being irritated by the sound of your own name makes you a monster, then we're going to need a bigger castle, because you've got plenty of company.

There's actually science behind this phenomenon. It's called "semantic satiation", when a word is repeated so often it temporarily loses meaning and just becomes an irritating noise. Except in the case of your name, it's not just semantic; it's existential. Each ping is actually code for "I need you to stop being your own person and attend to my needs immediately."

No wonder you're hiding in the bathroom.

The constant demand for your attention isn't just annoying, it's depleting. Humans aren't designed to be constantly accessible, constantly responsive, constantly ON. And yet that's exactly what modern life often demands, especially from those of us who've been socialized to prioritize others' needs above our own.

So no, you're not a monster. You're experiencing a normal reaction to an abnormal expectation: that you should be available all the time, to everyone, without limits.

Some practical suggestions:

Institute specific times when you're "off duty" and unavailable (and vice versa)

Teach people to wait their turn when you're engaged in something else (unless it's bleeding or burning)

Create a visual cue that signals "not now" (like turning off notifications or setting status to busy)

Practice not responding immediately to non-urgent pings

But beyond tactics, consider this: Your irritation is information. It's telling you that your boundaries are being crossed, that your personhood is being eroded in small increments with each summons. Listen to that feeling. Honor it.

The next time you feel like changing your name and moving to another continent, try this: "I'm feeling overwhelmed by how many people need things from me right now. I love being helpful, but I need a little quiet time for my brain right now. Unless it's an emergency, can you please try to solve this yourself or ask someone else?"

People won't suffer from learning that you're a human being with limits and needs of your own. In fact, it might be one of the most important boundaries you establish.

And keep those earbuds charged. Sometimes, five minutes of not being "on call" is exactly the reset you need to be able to answer the next ping with something other than a primal scream.

LETTER 3

Dear Bitch Fest,

I love my creative work, but I HATE the business side. Like, would rather clean the bathroom with a toothbrush hate it. The endless emails, the invoicing, the pitching, the networking that feels like performance art, it all makes me want to claw my eyes out. But I've been told repeatedly that this is just "part of being a professional." How do I balance making art with the soul-crushing reality of selling it?

- Pretending to Like Capitalism

Dear Pretending to Like Capitalism,

Let me liberate you with this truth: You can be an exceptional creative and still hate the business side with the fire of a thousand suns.

The creative industrial complex has convinced us that "real artists" effortlessly embody both visionary genius and savvy entrepreneurship. It's an impossible standard that no previous generation of creatives was expected to meet.

Think about it: Did Picasso handle his own invoicing? Did Virginia Woolf design her own website? My point is, this expectation that creative people should also excel at, or even enjoy, the administrative, financial, and marketing aspects of their work is both recent and unreasonable.

So first, let's ditch the guilt. Hating the business side doesn't make you unprofessional; it makes you a human with preferences. Some creatives thrive on the hustling aspects; others would rather eat glass than write another "just following up" email.

Now for the practical part: How do you balance your art with the necessary evil of commerce?

• Set a timer. Ten minutes of focused, unpleasant business tasks is better than an hour of procrastination and dread. "I can send three follow-up emails and then get back to my real work" makes it doable.

• Outsource when possible. This doesn't have to mean hiring an assistant (though if you can afford it, do it). It could mean bartering services with a friend who's good at the stuff you hate, using automation tools, or finding a collaborative partner whose strengths complement your weaknesses.

• Batch similar tasks. "Money Mondays" or "Admin Afternoons" contain the psychological contamination of these tasks to specific times, leaving the rest of your schedule protected for creative work.

• Reframe the narrative. The business side isn't separate from your creative practice, it's what creates space for your creative practice to exist. Each invoice sent is an hour of creative freedom purchased.

• Be honest (in a strategic way). "I'm primarily focused on the creative aspects of my work, so I prefer to communicate about business matters on Thursdays" sets expectations without apology.

Remember: Your job isn't to love every aspect of your work. Your job is to create meaningful art while building sustainable structures that allow you to keep creating. You can absolutely do that without pretending to enjoy the parts that drain your soul.

The gatekeepers want you to believe that enthusiasm for capitalism is a prerequisite for creative success. It's not. Many of the most successful artists I know have assistants, managers, or systems specifically because they recognize their own limitations and priorities.

So the next time someone tells you that you should learn to love pitching or networking, try: "I've recognized that my energy is best spent on creating excellent work. I'll handle the necessary business aspects efficiently so I can get back to what I do best."

You're not failing the creative life by having boundaries. You're creating a sustainable one that won't burn you out before your best work is made.

Besides, capitalism is overrated. Your art isn't.