bday comics: thirty-three ; thirty-four ; thirty-five
AN: I have an acquired brain injury (referred to in this comic as a TBI, or traumatic brain injury), and tend to have emotions about it on my birthday. This is my fourth year of annual birthday comics reflecting on disability, my TBI journey, and life.
I had a full other comic planned, that was more focused on healing and life, but I sat down to draw it and went "I can't afford the time to do this" - and so instead y'all get a comic about the intersections of poverty and disability, and what it means for me as an artist. (Which I still didn't really have the time to draw, but did anyway.)
Instagram | Sticker Shop & Tip Jar
[ID copied from alt text: a 6-panel comic with text and simple line drawings. Each panel’s lines are a different colour.
One – Art of a chair and a table covered in art supplies. Text reads: “I can count the number of art projects I’ve done in the past six months that weren’t about making money on one hand.”
Two – Art of me, a chubby non-binary white person wearing shorts and a tank top. I lie on my bed with my hands cupped over my eyes. Text: And it’s beautiful, or it’s supposed to be, that I can do this for a living. Do what you love, and – well. We all know the saying. But mainly I’m just tired.
Three – I sit on the edge of my bed with my chin in my hand, looking weary. Text: Disability carries a massive financial impact. Can’t work a “real” job because of my TBI. Can’t make or sell enough art because of my TBI. Can’t rely on government disability alone, there’s no way in hell it will be enough.
Four – I pull out the chair at my art table, with a mug of tea in one hand. Text: It’s easy to call this burnout, but the bigger truth is that I’m disabled, and can’t afford to slow down like I need to. Finding balance is hard. It’s even harder when tipping the scales too far towards rest means being worried about rent.
Five – I sit at my art table, painting a small canvas. Text: I love what I do. And I value that this is work I can do; self-employment and art accommodates my TBI in a way little else does. But I miss making art just for me.
Six – art of an old, worn pair of boots. Text: I just want to be able to afford new boots, and let my creative side wander, without worrying about whether or not I can still pay my bills.
The last panel is signed hank graves, 2025. End ID.]
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