Image: Supplied

When I was 21, I was finally on the brink of “making it”.

After years of hard work I was an illustrator, and people were paying me for my work. It was the one thing I loved, but it was causing me more physical pain than I could bear.

After developing an injury in my hand that made it too painful for me to draw, I had to let my illustration dreams go. Although I’ve never been a sporty girl, I could suddenly relate to the elite athletes who had to quit their profession after an unexpected injury.

It was devastating, because ever since I could remember my identity and future had been built around becoming Carla The Illustrator.

Art wasn’t something I did on the side; it was my life and obsession. My bedroom was overflowing with sketchbooks, loose drawing paper and art supplies. I always had bits of paint and ink on my clothes and hands.

That’s why it was so hard to let it all go. Even now, almost 10 years after I stopped illustrating, it still bothers me that I’m not drawing any more.

Watch: Aussie celebrities reveal their secret talent. (Post continues after video.)

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve planned to “make a comeback” and optimistically purchased a sketchbook, only to panic once I saw all the blank pages. I’ve tried everything – digital illustration, drawing exercises, life drawing classes, creativity courses – but nothing can bring back the excitement, peace and love I used to feel while drawing.

I was in my final year of design school when I first realised something was wrong with my drawing hand, my precious right hand. I was working on my final major project and often spent up to 18 hours a day illustrating. It was normal for my hand to hurt a bit after drawing, but this time around the pain wouldn’t go away.

By the time I graduated and began freelancing, drawing for even a couple of minutes would hurt. I began to get other symptoms, too – numbness in some fingers, a tingling in my hand, a searing pain that shot up my arm and into my shoulder. I started to drop things, because my grip had become so poor. Ordinary activities like doing the dishes and washing my hair began to hurt.

One of my illustrations in a popular tween magazine. (2004)

It was hurting too much to draw so I decided to stop. Illustration work was hard to come by, so it all seemed a bit too convenient for me to give up my passion. Maybe I was just sick of it, and wanted a change. The doubt that had always niggled away at me loomed larger: maybe I just wasn’t very good.

Two physiotherapists diagnosed me with carpal tunnel syndrome, a form of repetitive stress injury. The compression of a major nerve in my wrist was causing my painful symptoms, and they prescribed me with a series of exercises for my hand. One made me wear a bandage, which did nothing. I even took to wearing a wrist brace constantly for several months.

Eventually I visited a hand surgeon, and during our first consultation she refused to believe I could have carpal tunnel syndrome. “You’re too young,” she told me. “Most people don’t get it until they’re in their 40s.” (Post continues after gallery.)

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