The emotional side of being a designer (that no one talks about)
Six years into my design career, I’ve hit a wall of doubt, comparison, and creative fatigue. This isn’t a success story—just an honest look at the emotions we rarely talk about in this industry.
Six Years In
This year marks my sixth year as a designer. That’s almost a quarter of my life spent doing this. I still remember when I first started—those early days felt like a honeymoon phase. I was so happy, so hopeful. Every day brought new challenges, new things to learn, and I felt like I was on a one-way track to getting better and better. I was hungry. I wanted to be the best—literally. I imagined becoming the next Jony Ive, Paula Scher, or Paul Rand. I pictured myself at Apple, defining the interface trends of the next decade. Or at IDEO, bringing design thinking into Fortune 500 boardrooms. Or maybe at Pentagram, crafting the visual system for the next Public Theater.
Fast forward to today. I’ve worked at tech giants and startups. I’ve shipped products that drove real revenue. I started my own design studio and collaborated with startups around the globe. Objectively speaking, I’m on the right track. I should be proud of myself.
But somehow, this year, I’ve been carrying around a lot of negative feelings. And what surprised me most was realizing that you can feel lost and frustrated even when doing something you’re deeply passionate about. I couldn’t make sense of it, so I needed to write these emotions down and start unpacking them.
👨🏻💻 The feeling that I’m not trying hard enough
I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty hard-working person—and I think my friends would agree. I used to spend tons of time outside of work on side projects, just because I wanted to.
But lately, this gnawing feeling of not working hard enough has been creeping in—and it only gets louder when I scroll through Design Twitter. There are all these insanely talented people in their early 20s, building impressive things, constantly experimenting, trying new tech, and sharing openly online. I’m genuinely amazed by their energy, their consistency, and the growth they’re showing.
It’s like I’m being teleported back to 22-year-old me, sitting in a quiet corner of the school library, watching a group of peers who seemed years ahead, thinking: Dude, you’re falling behind. If you want to be great, you’ve gotta push harder.
It’s a strange blend of anxiety and motivation. And then I snap back—now 27, working full-time, dealing with adult responsibilities, chores, and a much different reality.
I can’t help but feel a little defeated. If I felt behind when we were the same age, how should I feel now that I’m five years older than some of them? How do I catch up? When will I become the designer I once dreamed of being? Is that dream still feasible? Should I stop dreaming and be practical? But what does being "practical" even mean?
And perhaps the hardest part: I feel frustrated that I can’t just flip a switch and change everything. It feels like my current reality no longer supports the version of me I wanted to become.
💞 The lack of design companionship
What is design companionship? To me, it’s a group of people you feel comfortable sharing your works in progress with—not just the polished end results. It’s the people you build things with, feel inspired by, and spend enough time around that you don’t need to explain yourself anymore. It’s kind of like your best friend from the art studio.
Don’t get me wrong—I genuinely enjoy solitude. I love riding my bike, reading, listening to podcasts, watching movies. In those moments, I feel like a sponge, soaking up thoughts, emotions, and everyday beauty. But the creative process is different.
Being creative isn’t easy. Sometimes I’m not motivated. Sometimes I feel stuck on a project. Other times I get so deep down a rabbit hole that I lose all perspective. And there are days when I’m just tired and want to skip the work altogether. This is when that companionship keeps us motivated, by believing in others we believe in ourselves.
However, moving to a new city and working at a startup definitely doesn’t help build that companionship. And in work settings, it’s hard to form that level of connection—people are busy, and even if they share the same passion, the time just isn’t there.
Right now, design companionship almost feels like something that comes from either your partner or your closest friend. But then again, is it too much to expect that from a life partner? How likely is it that someone could be both a good partner and a creative collaborator? Judging by some of the well-known design couples and my personal relationship… the odds seem low.
So honestly, I don’t know if that’s something I’ll find again. It feels like one of those past lives I can’t quite return to, and I just need to get used to it.
💭 The feeling of not being creative enough
Let me clarify: I don’t mean I’m not creative. I just mean that lately, I haven’t been impressed by my own creativity.
Scrolling through social media feels like self-inflicted torture. All these brilliant creators—their work screams genius. And there I am, feeling like a kindergartener holding a crayon. The self-doubt tornado hits hard. Am I just fooling myself? Is this whole “unique voice” thing just a comforting lie I’ve been telling myself?
But then i wonder: can creativity really be a competition?
I started breaking it down. Creativity has two parts: the spark and the flame. The flame is the act of creating—it’s like meditation. Pure. Quiet. Focused. Whether you’re painting the Mona Lisa or doodling in a notebook, that process is sacred.
What I was actually envying wasn’t other people’s work—it was their spark. Their ability to connect dots I hadn’t even noticed. Their clarity. Their perspective. Their imagination.
Then I remember this quote I once stumbled upon:
“Great artists aren’t born from inspiration, but from discipline and practice.”
—Pablo Picasso
So instead of drowning in the comparison quicksand, why not build my own creative muscles?
And just like that, the fog started to lift. I could learn how to think more creatively, train my perception, sharpen how I express ideas. That became my North Star. As long as I keep moving forward, I’m not just admiring others—I’m becoming someone I’d admire.
That “uniqueness” I was chasing? It’s not some mythical unicorn anymore. It’s real. It’s built one small step at a time, and I guess I already started running.
🌱 I don’t have all the answers… yet
If you’re hoping for a motivational ending where I’ve solved everything—sorry. This isn’t that kind of post. These are just emotions I’ve been carrying, finally starting to unpack.
But here’s what I’ve realized:
Most of these feelings come from comparison. Comparing my progress, my skills, my life to someone else’s. And honestly? That comparison isn’t fair. I might be the best Formula 1 driver out there—but I’m not winning if I’m driving a Formula 3 car.
“You are always comparing the worst version of yourself to the best version of others.”
—Meg Jay, talking about how social media has made us the most anxious generation.
So yeah, I still feel these things. But they don’t destroy me anymore. I used to spiral into self-criticism. Now, when those feelings surface, I try to take others out of the equation. I ask myself: Am I a better version of me than I was a year ago?
I try to evaluate myself as a whole human being—not just a designer. And honestly? I’m proud of the progress I’ve made, considering the circumstances.
I’m starting to understand that the emotions we have around our careers are never just about work. They’re reflections of our whole lives. We wear many hats. Our professional identity is only one of them. And it’s impossible to get everything right all the time.
So if there’s one takeaway here, maybe it’s this:
Never evaluate yourself by just one label. When you feel defeated in one area of life, look at the other parts of you that have grown. Ask yourself how you’ve shown up as a person. How you’ve lived.
I don’t have all the answers. But at least I’m naming the feelings.
And I’ll keep going on this journey of figuring it out.
End note: If these thoughts and feelings resonate with you, feel free to reach out via twitter, I would love to connect and talk more! If you have a designer friend, share this post to them and it might help them know they are not alone in this journey <3