All Change

Hey, folks. I’ve been putting off writing this because I knew it would be long-winded—I’m in a weird place. The Covid is fine; I’m still isolating but back in my right mind… sort of. This post should explain.

Lately, I’ve been feeling strange for reasons beyond just getting sick. Last week, I finally received an inheritance I’ve been owed for nearly five years. It’s good news, but it’s left me disoriented. I’ve spent my whole life in a state of stress, and stepping away from that mindset feels almost impossible.

To be clear, it’s not some ridiculous “Dr. Evil” sum of money—it’s just enough. Enough to clear my debts, take a breath, and actually focus on what I create instead of what it makes.

A Look Back

When I was 21, I dropped out of film school because it was all about documentaries, and I wanted to tell stories. I had no idea back then that I was severely dyslexic, had ADHD, and was on the autism spectrum (glaringly obvious now, but hey, I didn’t know). Work terrified me, so I did the only thing I could—I turned my hobby into a survival mechanism.

It wasn’t a disaster. I’ve spent my life doing what I love, and I’ll continue to. But the road has been brutal. I can’t count the number of times I’ve broken down, fought through exhaustion, and dragged myself through hell to make my dream a reality. I’ve attempted to take my life four times, yet somehow, I’m still here. What I do have now is knowledge—because success teaches you little, but failure teaches everything.

For years, I lived like an involuntary nomad, always running from debts I couldn’t pay. By the time I hit 30, things had reached their lowest point—bailiffs at my door, no income, nothing left. I signed up for welfare for the first time in my life, but ironically, I didn’t stay there long. Instead, I got a job working for the welfare system. Who better to help struggling people than someone who’s lived it?

I did well—really well. I climbed from case manager to deputy, to line manager, to training entire teams of agents during the pandemic. It felt incredible to be good at something, to have people still message me to this day saying I helped them.

But it came at a cost. After years of masking my autism and pushing myself beyond my limits, I had a full nervous breakdown. One morning, I woke up unable to stop crying, barely able to speak. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had hit full-scale autistic burnout.

Applying the Lessons

Despite that, this “failure” felt different—because it wasn’t a failure. I had thrown myself into a difficult job, done well, and learned a ton. When I left, I applied the same work ethic to The Labyssitory.

I took what I’d learned—basic self-care, structure, routine—and started using it for myself. My 20s were spent running on stress, chain-smoking, barely eating, making comic after comic like my life depended on it. But I can’t work like that forever. If the process is stressed, the product will be, too.

Now, in my later years, I’ve gone from autistic to autastic. I’ve failed enough to know what not to do. I was already on track to clearing my debts myself, but breaking even isn’t enough—I want to build something better.

Moving Forward

This inheritance gives me the chance to actually manage my work like a business. I’ve already started talking to other artists about commissions, which will allow me to focus on my own projects instead of scrambling just to survive.

And there’s more—an IRL project called The Skeleton Village, a model-making arts and crafts project I’ll share more about soon. Naturally, it’ll tie into my music project, The Skeleton Party (which, by the way, you can still listen to on my Giles Hellier YouTube channel).

But… despite all the good, this change is jarring.

I’ve been struggling since I was 21. I’m now 37. Having that struggle suddenly lifted feels wrong, like waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know that sounds ungrateful—it’s not that. I am grateful. I just don’t know how to process it yet.

For the first time in 15 years, I’m waking up and not immediately diving into work out of sheer survival instinct. I’ve been hopping from project to project out of panic for so long—it’s why I have 4,000 unfinished ideas sitting in The Basement (which, much like the Elephant Graveyard in The Lion King, is a place no one should go).

Now, it’s time to work smarter, not just harder. Instead of trying to keep every fan happy with different projects, I’m focusing. Right now, my crosshairs are on Queen Kulana, and only Queen Kulana.

What’s Next

There are a couple of commissions to wrap up, but otherwise, my main goal is to finish Queen Kulana’s series. Of course, I’ll eventually address unfinished projects, but they’ll be side gigs until Kulana’s story is complete.

That said… I may take the rest of the week off. Maybe even two.

Because honestly? This is a lot to process. I didn’t live paycheck to paycheck—I lived day to day. Some of those days didn’t even have a meal in them. The other day, I started deep-cleaning my flat and thought I was having some kind of mental break. Turns out, it was just filthy. Not messy—disused. Everything covered in dust and cobwebs, like I’d barely lived here at all.

And now? I’m turning my front room into a gym.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I know this was a long one, but there was a lot to say. It feels like the first day of the rest of my life—and while I can’t sum that up concisely, I hope this gives you a glimpse into why.