I can't go into specifics about this, because it treads on that 'other people's secrets' line. Apologies in advance for that. This is someone in the hobby, but it is not someone who posts here, and I will not name them here.
But, goddamn. Over the past couple of years, a friend of mine -- somebody I care about a lot -- has done the worst crap ever. Really piled it on until I have literally zero self-esteem left.
I'm a creative person. I don't consider myself pretty, or smart, or funny, or clever, or knowledgeable, or any number of other common 'positive' traits people ascribe to themselves, even if some people think I am one of these things or high IQ tests or wards in stuff or whatever, I've never thought of myself as these things, and have always considered those things to be 'just a fluke at best' or 'the stopped clock is still right twice a day', etc.
Me, I had the one thing: I'm pretty good at being creative. Whether it was creative problem solving, out of the box thinking, or creating artsy things, compelling stories or worlds, etc.
It has always been my 'saving grace', sometimes in the most literal sense. Father lost his job years ago, everyone was freaking out... I just knuckled down and started working on jewelry at warp 10; saved the family finances that year doing it and gave them all the cash save for enough to buy a vase from one of the shows we did. Exploded the business (in the good way, adding multiple shows and getting us past juries we never came within miles of for over a decade of being stonewalled) for years to come, through which I worked 14+ hour days, every single day to make stock. It just came naturally. It's just what I did because someone had to. There are no end of stories like that. It's been my job, and it's been my sanity saver; that Gaiman commencement speech speaks much truth, 'make good art' is a lifesaver.
This hobby (RP in general) was how it helped on the sanity front since the very first tabletop game I was in when I was fourteen; there's been tabletop, AOL way back when, MOOs and MUXes, totally freeform stuff... all manner of options. No matter how tough things were, there was always a story I could join in, or create, and it was a brief escape from the stressful crap going on RL, even if the story involved lots of failures or sad things, etc. because that was totally fine, too. It was just time to not have to live in my own head for a few hours, which provided a release valve from the stress. My brain will hyperfocus on a stressor, given the chance, especially if it's something that makes no damned sense, and it's like a computer stuck in a loop -- eventually it crashes. These breaks? Prevented that, and gave me a break for a few hours, after which I had fresher eyes to regard the real world problem and, usually, deal with it much more easily.
So! Creativity. The one thing I have going for me. My actual financial means of support, and in other ways, my coping mechanism. OK, kinda a pressure-filled and not great life or self-image, but it works, and in a lot of ways it's great because I love creative work, as only rarely does it feel like work.
...the friend -- for reasons I understand? and have empathy for? and were not entirely intentional? -- completely, aggressively, and for nearly two years solid attacked my creativity in every way imaginable. All the art was crap. All the wiki was crap. All the RP was crap. All the ideas were crap. You name it, it was meh, it was crap, it was boring, it was garbage. Worse, constantly comparing me negatively to someone else in the cruelest and most degrading and demeaning and dehumanizing ways possible. (He wonders why I hate this person. Seriously? He has to wonder? I'd never dream of saying or doing anything to or about them, but damn, do I hate them.) There were a lot of other things piled on to that, many of which were so over the top crazy it triggered "huh, I thought I was over that a decade or more ago" PTSD. I do not have a night without nightmares any more, and haven't for years because of things this person has said and done.
This destroyed every shred of faith I have in my creativity abilities, because, like the dumbest motherfucker to ever draw breath (I keep telling y'all I'm not smart), somehow, I genuinely trusted this person, and was exceptionally vulnerable to them in ways I probably never have been to anyone else I've ever known in my life.
So! I'm kinda fucked.
I have spent the last two years trying everything I can lay my hands on to find something that works. I've tried building games -- we all saw what happened there -- and knitting and patternmaking and more jewelry and everything else, many of these things things I've had no difficulty with in the past, and nothing works. Nothing. It's all garbage.
The longer this goes on, the more ingrained it becomes. Our brains do change in a hard-wired way, ideas can become permanent. I am fighting tooth and nail for these things to not become permanent even while I'm afraid they already have.
I am struggling with this, still. The whole suicide thing I've mentioned isn't a joke; as it stands I see no purpose to keep existing, as the only thing worthwhile about me is broken, and may be permanently broken.
All of the above is RL Sad, not RL Anger. This is the angry part.
The friend's response to this is that they'd do something to change it, but because of arbitrary and unreasonable conditions, they've decided not to 'to be a better person'. And in some respects this is absolutely reasonable, but those are all ancient history and there's no question about that.
What makes me angry is that this person sees themselves as a valiant hero for coming to this 'better person' place, but has done so almost entirely at my expense, and consciously so. They still have all the things they want or need. They're paying the bill for their 'better person'-ness with my pain, and consciously so.
That is not a hero. That is a selfish, exploitative monster, desperately grasping for high ground after knowing they've done horrible wrongs.
And it's not fucking OK.