I'm disabled as all hell.
I've been forced into doing physical jobs for my entire adult life, due to lack of educational attainment.
I currently work a delivery job.
I was off for three weeks due to a neck injury. At first, I was a little bit lost without the structure of work.
But during that time, I started producing paintings which I really really love, and which other people love too. Like actual good artwork, which someday I might be able to sell for real money. I started building a whole new routine around making the art. I also started adopting healthier habits in general – a better diet, fewer sugary drinks, sleeping at times that are more suited to my natural rhythm, keeping in better touch with friends. My mental state got better and better the longer I was out, and so did the artwork I was making.
Today I returned to work. After just one day back, I'm burned out as all hell. Just fucken toasted. I can't do this shit. I'm physically exhausted, in pain, and mentally drained. I'm already dreading working tomorrow and Saturday. I'm not sure I'll be able to do a painting today, and I'm worried I'll fall out of the routine.
My parents have the financial means to support me, and as my job effectively pays nothing after on-the-job expenses, it doesn't make a financial difference whether I work or not.
But my parents, and my dad in particular, are so attached to the idea of working as a measure of a valuable life that though they acknowledge the net negatives of me continuing at that job, they insist on me continuing at it because they “believe in their hearts that working is a better life than just sitting around and doing art”.
I have mentioned a number of times to them that I want to explore an art career. They are not receptive to the idea.
I have pointed out, in every way possible, the fact that I am effectively excluded from the job market, and that there are no suitable conventional positions looking to hire people like me.
They intellectually understand everything I say, and they claim to agree, but today when I reiterated it to my dad, he said, “You put me in a bind on how to respond, because I don't want to tell you to not work.” I told him that the bind I put him in was intentional, because that is the very same bind I am in literally every day. He didn't respond, just plain silence.
Fuck me, I guess.