In my late teens/early 20s I became a video game tester. I always knew that if I were to ever work for an office environment, it would only pan out if I was contributing to something that I truly loved. Otherwise the office setting drives me up a wall. Anyway, I landed this testing job on the outskirts of the video game industry (we didn't make games; we would basically just help other studios with regressions during their crunch period), and I started picking up music gigs on my free time because it didn't pay much. Id work my QA Contracts for $8/hr during the daytime, then I would run home and grab a few crates of records and schlep them down to whatever dive bar would let me mix and scratch till last call, and I'd think "one of these things has to pan out, because I didn't plan for a backup." Eventually one of them did. In 2008 there was an opening for a full time QA job at a AAA studio that I was familiar with. I happened to have QA experience, and just by chance knew someone who already worked in their QA department who could vouch for me. The interview(s) also went well. I had a good feeling that I had the job before they offered it to me, but I still have to say - that moment I received the official offer in the mail was pretty great. Working really hard for anything that you really want, something for all intents and purposes you may never actually get...I could (and may) just spend the rest of my life searching for that feeling again. So I got the job.
Then...queue life!
A couple months before I started work at my fancy new testing job, my relationship with my then-girlfriend of 8 years took a dive and we decided to call it quits. We broke up during a phone call. When I hung up I was a wreck; angry, crying, feeling sorry for myself, normal reactions to normal shit I guess. Then my phone rang again. It was one of my best friends/former roommate and then-DJ Partner. This guy was the reason I even got an opportunity to play live music in the first place. When we lived together he'd basically peer pressure me to get out of the bedroom and start playing for people. He would book his own sets and split both the check and the stage-time with me, all without even checking with the promoter who booked him beforehand. But in the moment of thinking about my failed 8 year relationship and love lost and everything, there's no way in hell I was picking up the phone, much less getting on stage that night. So I let it ring and went on with my pity party. I should have picked up the phone. Later that night he died in his sleep. Not to gloss over the tragedy (6 years ago, still feels like yesterday), but in the interest of staying on topic, Ill just say that this was a less than ideal time to receive my dream job. I didn't really have the ability to care about it anymore; I was just too consumed. When I finally showed up to the game studio on the first day of work, everyone was all smiles but me. First thing to be done was to get my picture taken for my office badge. I couldn't hide anything. I was so sad. My ID badge looked like a mugshot, and I now had to wear this memory on my belt in plain view of everyone so that they would know I'm a bonafide employee. I would get a tour of the facilities, meet developers, shake hands, and review perks of the job. We had a full sized theater that any of the employees could use after hours (usually street fighter tournaments or something). We had our own kitchen with chefs who personalize your order. There was a gym downstairs. We would get employee discounts on certain video games, and if its a game that was under the publishing umbrella of our studio we wouldn't even have to pay for the game; it would be delivered to your desk, free of post. If there was anytime in my life to feel that I had hit the jackpot, it was then. But I felt nothing. I earned that job, I felt I wanted it as much as I deserved it, but I could no longer receive any joy from it. So I just never found a way to move on. The first three months were a disaster. I didn't really do any work. I kind of just sat around waiting to be fired. One of my leads eventually pulled me into a conference room and talked some sense into me. He thought I was having problems with my team lead, and at the time I just kept quiet and let him think that. I wasn't about to choose this moment to say that I was just depressed and had resorted to self sabotage as some kind of a knee jerk reaction, but in hindsight I probably should have. In so many words, he basically said he didn't want to lose a skilled tester such as myself (he was being nice ;P). I was so flattered that someone actually gave a shit enough to talk me off of a ledge, that I had a moment of clarity. I decided I needed to make an effort to get help of some sort. The tightness in my chest had now upgraded to regular palpitations, so I took advantage of my new fancy insurance and went and saw the doctor about an EKG. Nothing showed up in the chest scans, so I unabashedly asked about a prescription to xanex. He suggested therapy, and like an asshole I suggested "not". The woman whom I had dated for 8 years was a counselor, so counseling was the last place that I wanted to be. I know that is irrational thinking. But I still ended up leaving with a prescription to be filled later that day. At first the pills seemed to work. I felt slower than usual, and that was uncomfortable, but I could now push through negative thoughts without letting them affect me too much. It got me on my feet again. I was exited to learn the job and be around new people and spent the next 2 years getting steadily promoted.
I proceeded to numb myself with Xanex or Klonopin for the next 2 years, which is about how long it took for my personality to wave "Bye Bye". I didn't even feel like me anymore. During that time I made no attempt to exercise, eat healthy, or even sleep more than 2 or 3 hours a night. If I wasn't sitting in front of a computer at work I was usually sitting in front of a computer at home. My health started to take a dive again. Id faint and wake up on the floor of my apartment before it dawned on me that I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours. I never brought up my friends death to anyone; I just kept it buried under sedatives. I didn't attend office functions or parties or even really make any friends at the studio because I now felt like a drug addict and I was embarrassed. I hated being on pills, but I had adjusted myself to a situation where they now felt like a necessity because I just couldn't fuck this job up. It was a problem. I had tricked myself into thinking that getting a prescription was "me being productive", but it was really just "me grabbing a shovel". When I started to realize all of that, I was desperate to correct my behavior. In the end, I quit my dream job in video games in order to get clean. And so I've spent the time between then and now teaching myself how to do a 180. Today I feel great, and even lucky to be alive (is the happy ending). Unfortunately, I have not been able to get another job in games, because I made such quick work of my first attempt with a can of gas and a book of matches (is the truth I have to live with). But, still, I'm OK with the mistakes I've made. Life goes on.