What a year.

Jesus, Take the Wheel

There's no easy way to explain this other than directly and straight to the point: I'm burnt out.

Why? Well, where do I start? LMAO

In 2024, I moved for the second time in a year's time. I went through a lot of trauma in my personal life that I am still recovering from, and will probably take years to fully recover from. While my life is much better overall, a new chapter didn't come without difficulties.

But let's start from AFTER the move.

After the Move

When we moved here in July 2024, I was determined to get a full-time job and be able to make things meet. And I did. Within two weeks of settling in, applying for jobs non-stop every day, and a few interviews - I got a full-time position that paid decently. I could cover my rent in an entire paycheck, and it was remote work. Awesome!

... But the job turned out to be incredibly toxic. I knew something was off after several experiences in my training. I stuck with it because I knew I didn't have other options if I left the job. I had nothing to fall back on.

I have never seen so much micromanaging in my life (I was deadass asked to go to the bathroom less. I wish I was joking) as well as blatant favoritism and racism in the workplace. I really thought, because we were at home at our desks in the comfort of our own homes, that things would be fine and this would just be a job to get by until one of us (my partner and I) found something better.

I ended up leaving the job in February 2025 after I was written up for asking for a supervisor's help because I didn't know how to handle a specific scenario I was not trained for.

I mean it when I say this: No fucking capitalist cog of a job is worth my mental health. If a job gives me panic attacks, I am OUT. And that's what this job did. I was dreading going to work. I was losing sleep. I was starting to feel stressed because I was constantly being micromanaged. I felt like a child being watched by a helicopter parent - something that already triggered me due to BEING that child with an extremely abusive helicopter parent! YIKES!!!

But I left. And despite my fears, I didn't regret it. I made how I felt very clear in a scathing review of the company after finding out that my former workplace was combating a class-action lawsuit. Wow, the awful job with shit management, underpaid workers leaving in droves, garbage training that did not set us up for long-term success, and toxic micromanaging was breaking the LAW? Gee, what a fucking shock, am I right?! </sarcasm>

But we're past that, now. That's just context.

Ouch, my Pride

It's no secret that I've been asking for help monthly to cover basic living expenses, including my rent. I'm no longer afraid to ask for help - but that's because I don't have a choice. You learn to swallow your pride and ask nicely, and hope others around you are kind and fortunate enough to help.

But I don't enjoy asking for help. I truly wish that I was 100% fully independent and didn't have to rely on the generosity of others just to be able to survive.

I did start with commissions. In one month I was so proud of myself for being able to take on enough work that would cover all of my expenses. And then I realized...

I bit off more than I could chew.

Entirely my fault. I own that. I have since made changes to myself and my routine to fix the mistakes I've created. I've kept my clients in the know- and they've been the sweetest, most understanding and patient clients I have EVER had. It's nice to know that they understand- that I'm barely managing to keep my head above water and still juggling finances and my job as a creative, single-handedly making sure I keep a roof over our heads and food in our fridge.

And by god, I've been managing. Barely, but I have. I'm proud of that.

But I also have to live with the stress of knowing that one emergency could put me and my partner on the street, something I want to avoid at all costs.

I often sit at my desk, waiting for the other shoe to drop: Receiving news that we're going to be kicked out for whatever reason, or that I need to find another place to go, and that I won't be prepared for it because I don't have the money, because it's happened before.

It doesn't matter if the chances of it happening again are low- they're not zero. And I'm traumatized enough to know that I have to be prepared for that event, for anything thrown my way. I've been cast aside and left to rot more than once, and I will never let that happen to me or my partner again; I will never depend on anyone else again. I can, and will, survive. I will defy the odds and dismantle all of the unrealistic and unattainable standards and expectations set upon me.

But despite the stress, I will say: There is peace. Peace I have craved for a long time. The moment I was able to get my own housing under my own name, I felt a weight lifted off of my shoulders. It was mine. Nobody could tell me what to do, or how I could live. I wasn't subject to someone else's rules; it's cliche, but it was finally my home and my rules. (Other than respecting the lease agreement, which isn't difficult for me anyways.)

I could have peace and quiet. I wouldn't be in a toxic environment and I could finally, somewhat, get out of what we call "Survival Mode."

I fight really hard to keep what I have right now for this reason, among others that I'm not comfortable disclosing.

But it's so, so deeply important and human to have a place to call home that's peaceful and a sanctuary. Home should not be unkind to you. Home should not be a place you dread. Home should be where your peace is; and that's what this tiny little apartment is for me. Despite any difficulties or improvements that could be made? I'm happy. I truly am. I'm very blessed to be where I am right now, and it's thanks to other people who love me enough to want me to do well. I owe them so much for that.

... But unfortunately, there's more.

Great Googly Moogly, It's All Gone to Shit

A summary of what happened, and how it all went to shit:

MARCH: March was me coping with leaving my job and having to deal with the aftermath. It was not fun, and I was treated poorly by my former management in the process. I also had to figure out what I was going to do moving forward.

APRIL: In April 2025, we ate ham at an Easter family event, and I'm convinced it gave me food poisoning. I was hospitalized from vomiting so many times I nearly passed out unconscious, and was severely dehydrated. I also ended up having Post-Hospital Syndrome.

MAY: That Post-Hospital Syndrome led to panic attacks, continued sickness, and regular nausea. I was bedridden for most, if not all, of May. I had a reversed sleep schedule and my mental health absolutely tanked because of it.

JUNE: In June, I dealt with harassment for almost the entire month, with at least 3 separate occasions of being targeted and sent hateful messages (including being told directly in my DMs to kill myself). I had personal information leaked, I had people treating me like total shit, and my trauma and the nastiness directed at me was treated like a spectacle to watch for entertainment. Genuine, hateful abuse I endured was brushed off as "drama" and I did not receive a single apology. I still haven't. This ALSO lasted til mid-July.

JULY: In July, I dealt with a major loss in my personal life and I had to come to terms with a few things that really sucked to process, on top of being harassed and actively denied rest. Our air conditioning also went out DURING A HEAT WAVE, and it was out for an ENTIRE MONTH. (July 4th - August 4th.) For the first 1-2 weeks, I was in a dark place because of the heat with no relief; I was sick. Again. We received a window unit, and we managed, but it was loud and overstimulating; I could not work at all. I ended up telling my community I'd be on hiatus until the air conditioning was repaired.

AUGUST: In August, we received a new air conditioning unit (thank you, apartment maintenance... didn't have to pay a dime, either) and it's been working fine just since.

... And I've been recovering from all of that since September.

The Recovery Period

September, I just kind of coasted through. And October's been the same, continuing to ask for help and try to manage things as best as I can.

And I am only recently realizing I am recovering from all of this and that is gonna take time. (Not too much, I hope; and I'm trying to work while I do so, to the best of my ability)

It is a lot, and I hope people will find room in their hearts to be patient and understanding with me; a lot of this was genuinely so out of my control, such as the air conditioning saga since a part hard to be ordered; or being sick, because I don't really get to choose when I recover, or how fast I recover. I had to manage as best as I could.

But I hope to recover. 2025 may have not been the best, but despite all of this... I don't think it was awful. A lot more good things happened than bad, and I continue to be happier than I've ever been in life despite these stressors. The stressors just bring up The Horrors™ from time to time, and that kind of sucks to deal with.

I know a lot of this shit is because of capitalism (and I LOVE blaming capitalism for things, both seriously and for The Bit), and much of it, I can't change. I'm doing my best.

Thanks for allowing me to recover and do my best, despite me being way behind on work and taking forever to draw pixels on a canvas.