I’ve been thinking about this lately. I wanted to be a doctor, but my family broke apart in my teens, which affected my mental health and, subsequently, my studies. I worked in construction and as a driver on the side for a bit before replacing the former with work as a personal trainer. Now I work as a bodyguard for a rich kid, which is de facto more of a surveillance, driving, and companionship role than a security one, since his dad has hardcore professionals for times when security is really needed. I didn’t expect my life to turn out this way, to be honest.
As a child, I wanted to be a zoologist.
Later during my teens I wanted to be an artist. And I did.
I pursued the arts for a very long time. Started as a silversmith while I was still in my teens, a career that lasted about 15 years give or take. Meanwhile I kept studying arts. I managed to get some illustrations published but it wasn’t a lot. As my silversmith era was ending, I got into 3D design/VFX. I managed to work for a small studio for two years. Best job in my whole life, unfortunately it ended too roughly with a mix of industry collapse, burnout and personal relationship problems all entangled.
That was a couple years ago and in spite of my best efforts I couldn’t get a job in 3D ever again. This in turn drove me into depression, of which I’m crawling out of, currently holding a job in retail ( I jumped from one retail place to another until I found a decent work environment) but unfortunately my creative side is not giving any signs of life. The current AI debacle adds insult to injury, discouraging sharing new work at all if I had anything substantial to produce.
It’s shit. But it used to be great. I wonder if there’s something of Phoenix in me or if I’m just a pile of ashes. Only time will tell but the years keep piling up and things don’t improve.