As another year ends, creatives wrestle with unmet goals, money pressure, faith narratives, and the quiet fear of being left behind.
Every year has a sound. For creatives, the sound of December is rarely fireworks alone. It is quieter, heavier.
It is the noise of unfinished projects, abandoned sketchbooks, scripts that never found funding, comics that did not sell, pitches that were ignored, and dreams that feel like they slipped through the cracks of the calendar.
As 2025 winds down, many creatives are doing what they always do at this time of year.
They are counting. Counting goals. Counting failures. Counting how far behind they think they are.
“I was supposed to be bigger than this by now.”
That sentence echoes in studios, bedrooms, shared workspaces, and WhatsApp groups across the creative industry.
Artists scroll through social media and see colleagues announcing grants, awards, international collaborations, new deals. Writers see books launched.
Animators see trailers go viral. Comic creators see peers shipping multiple issues while their own pages remain unfinished.
Comparison becomes a silent thief, stealing joy from what was actually achieved.
For many creatives, especially in the comics industry, the end of the year feels like a judgment day.
The Weight of Unrealised Goals
Most creatives begin the year with optimism. New sketchbooks. New software. New plans.
“This year I will finish my graphic novel.” “This year I will get published.” “This year I will finally make money from my art.”
By December, reality sets in. Life happened. Bills happened. Burnout happened. Some goals were postponed. Others quietly died.
This gap between expectation and reality is where disappointment lives. And for creatives, disappointment does not just hurt emotionally.
It attacks identity. When your craft is who you are, failing at it feels like failing at life.
Mental health experts often talk about end of year reflection as a trigger period. For creatives, that trigger is amplified because their work is deeply personal.
A missed deadline feels like a moral failure. A slow year feels like proof that maybe the talent was never enough.
In the Nigerian comics space, this pressure is even heavier. The industry is still fragile.
Success stories are few and highly visible. Many creators are self funded, juggling day jobs, freelancing, and family expectations. When progress is slow, quitting starts to feel like a logical choice.
Every December, some artists quietly put their tools away and never pick them up again.
When Faith, Money, and Worth Get Entangled
December is also the season of crossover services, prophecies, and declarations of abundance. Many pastors speak about a better new year, breakthroughs, and financial elevation.
There is nothing wrong with hope. But for creatives who did not experience financial growth in the outgoing year, these messages can cut deep.
Success is often framed as money. Prosperity is measured by cars, houses, and international travel. Creatives who are still struggling financially begin to question their calling.
They wonder if art was a mistake. They compare themselves to classmates who chose more conventional careers and seem more stable.
In comic circles, this question comes up repeatedly.
“How long will I be doing this without real money?” Some creators are not failing creatively at all.
They published work. They built skills. They grew an audience. But because the bank account did not reflect that growth, the year feels like a loss.
This mindset is dangerous. It reduces a complex creative journey into a single metric.
It ignores invisible progress like improved storytelling, better discipline, stronger networks, and emotional resilience.
Why So Many Creatives Quit at the Turn of the Year
There is something symbolic about January 1. It feels like a clean slate, but it also feels like a deadline. If things did not work out by now, maybe they never will.
In the comics industry, creators often leave quietly. No announcement. No farewell post. They simply stop posting work.
The reasons are varied. Lack of support. Financial pressure. Burnout. Family responsibilities. A sense that the industry is not serious enough to sustain a life.
But underneath it all is a deeper issue. Many creatives tie their self worth to external validation. Sales numbers.
Online engagement. Recognition. When these do not come fast enough, the internal narrative turns harsh.
“I am not good enough.”
“I wasted my time.”
“I should have done something else.”
Once that voice takes over, creativity dries up. Fear replaces play. The joy of making disappears. And without joy, it becomes very hard to continue.
Redefining Growth Before the New Year Begins
The truth is uncomfortable but necessary. Growth looks different for everyone.
For one creator, growth was publishing a first comic even if it sold only a few copies. For another, it was surviving the year without quitting.
For someone else, it was learning a new skill, finding their voice, or finally saying no to exploitative work.
Not every year will be financially explosive. Some years are foundational. Some years are about learning. Some years are about endurance.
Comparing your journey to someone else’s timeline will always end in frustration. You do not know their support system, their resources, their sacrifices, or their struggles behind the scenes.
Ending the year with gratitude does not mean ignoring disappointment. It means acknowledging effort. It means recognizing that showing up counts.
It means understanding that a slow year is not a wasted year.
As 2025 ends, creatives are allowed to feel tired. They are allowed to feel disappointed. But they are also allowed to hope.
Set new goals, but set kinder ones. Goals that prioritize health. Goals that focus on consistency, not perfection. Goals that allow room for rest.
Believe that the new year can be better, not because a calendar changed, but because you are wiser than you were twelve months ago.
And if you did not achieve the goals you set earlier this year, you are not alone.