Hey, /loomis/tics or whatever the hell you call yourselves. I don't have a question. I have a story, and a warning:
>be me, 11 years ago
>graphic designer, with mastery of Photoshop, CorelDraw, and page layout
>worked for a succession of bully bosses because I'm a sperg but I was undiagnosed
>every single one of those fuckers knew from the interview that I was good at what I did, and that I could be manipulated and bullied for their own sick gratification
>got paid shit, but at least I worked a lot of thankless overtime for assholes, so I had that going for me
>finally found a dream job
>it was great, made friends, made bank, but it wasn't creative at all
>but that was okay because I was free to create at home
>one guy, who I now know was another sperg, took a dislike to me for a simple misunderstanding
>began a campaign of bullshit
>ended up being replaced with an automated computer program
>laid off with regrets, but there was no room for a graphic designer in-house because of the big boss's nepotism
>spent some months out of work, but decided to pursue more creative ventures
>super bummed out, though, and I missed my work friends
>wife, who grew up with parents who made poor financial decisions, kept pressuring me to get a job
>finally gave in and emailed some resumes with my portfolio site included in a link
>got a couple of nibbles and finally accepted a job with a woman who was all sweetness and smiles who owned a printshop
>informed UI that I had a job
>5 months later, after various misunderstandings, I was fired for my "bad attitude," which completely confused me as I thought I'd done my best
>"Your work is fine, but you walk around sighing all the time"
>they didn't lay me off, they fired me, and I couldn't get back on UI because I'd only been there 5 months
>started to think about ways to kill myself that would incontrovertibly look like an accident so my wife could get the insurance and no one would blame themselves for me ending my useless, wasted life
>go in to my doctor's about something or other
>he diagnoses me with severe depression and gets me an appointment with his consulting shrink
>shrink says I not only have had a breakdown, I've got chronic suicidal depression, and I also have the autism
>spent the next 10 years and change trying to crawl back from the pit that's been trying to suck me in
>better today, but I don't think I'll ever be the man I was. That's good in some ways, but tragic in other ways, as I'm about to relate.
Sucks to suck, as my daughter says, and normally, this would just be some sad fuck meandering his way through a feels story, but there's something you all have to know and you have to take it to heart, because I lost something VERY IMPORTANT to me.
When I had my breakdown, it didn't just take my mental health, it also robbed me of being able to do a few things I'd been doing at that job.
>I have a real problem answering phones, now. Like I'm terrified to use the damn things and avoid them if I can help it. On bad days, I almost throw up when the phone gets more than a couple of calls
>I can't open and answer email unless I psych myself up, first. It sometimes takes me months to get back to people.
The worst thing?
>I was doing
I used to draw, paint, sculpt, write, alter images, create beautiful things... and now I can't. Or, at least, I can't unless it's a REALLY GOOD mental health day. I can doodle, or occasionally paint a D&D miniature, but I can't rely on my skills, anymore. I come here, sometimes, hoping something here will be the answer to this crippling artistic block, but you know what? Even if there are three or four threads that can help me, I find I can't actually READ them because I feel nauseated and my eyes start to blur or something. If anyone's read Stephen King's creative work at that job. Vector, Photoshop, and drawing. Bag of Bones, the protagonist's block is similar.
This is my warning, guys and gals: that creative spark within can be ripped from you in a single afternoon without you realizing it until it's gone. Don't waste your talent in a creative job, because they will drain you like vampires and throw away the husk once you're empty and they've made your money. When you can't lay any more eggs, Farmer Fuckface will send you to the bastards at KFC faster than you can say "Finger Lickin' Good™".
My recommendation (because this is what I WISH I'd done) would be to get a regular, decent-paying, 9-5 job and create on your own time. Do it for you, and don't make some ass-licker rich on your talent. And if you get fired in the most humiliating way possible, the worst that happens is you get a mental block on how to run a drill press or something.
Work on stuff in your own time for YOU. And when you have a product that can make you money or get you fame, you'll have done it all on your own and won't have to look back at a lifetime of wasted talent.
I hope this was helpful. If not, please disregard.