Going freelance saved me
How’s that for a dramatic headline, hey? I didn’t really need saving. I wasn’t a princess trapped in a castle. But I was trapped in the monotony of office life.
I first went freelance in 2020, and can happily say it’s the best decision I ever made. Office politics and set routines aren’t really for me, and left me stressed in ways I didn’t realise at the time. Nowadays, my working week looks exactly how I choose it to look.
It goes a bit like this.
7.30am
Wake up and find out where Last Night Me left my slippers. Go downstairs and wake up the world’s laziest spaniel.
7.45am
Make me and my partner flasks of coffee to take upstairs to our shared office (it’s the spare room) so we don’t have to schlep to the kettle every hour. You always get a hot cuppa, and flasks are cool.
8am
My partner takes the dog out for a long morning walk and to play ball in the park. I make sandwiches and pop them in the fridge so we’re not rushing around at lunchtime. Each week, one or both of us will completely forget to put the bins out, as is tradition. Sometimes I’ll go for a run or the gym, so I’ll start and finish work later.
8.45am
Have a shower and make breakfast. Start working between 9.30 and 10.
No 5am starts and no hustle culture. Just a boringly normal start to the day. It’s calm and quiet, apart from squeaky dog toys or a very loud gym playlist.
And you know what? I’ve had a more balanced life (and bettered all my previous salaries) than I did when my mornings looked like this:
7am
Wake up in a panic, get in the shower. Contemplate life.
8am
Somehow an hour has passed. Assemble a work-appropriate outfit and rummage for a pair of tights without holes in them. Tie back wet hair and hope it dries by itself.
8.45am
Grab soggy overnight oats from the fridge, attempt to zhuzh up the sad mess with some crunchy seeds, and walk for half an hour to an office I should have been in 15 minutes ago. Invariably it will rain, and my shoes will leak.
9.15am
Get into the office. Panic. Make coffee.
9.30am
Get pulled into a meeting I don’t need to be in. It’s not relevant, and yet I cannot leave. Nod. Make notes. Jitter from coffee on empty stomach. Make another cup.
10.30am
Remember to eat bag-warmed overnight oat-sludge. Check emails and Slack. And Trello. Or was it Asana?
11.15am
Open some files. Panic. Make coffee.
11.30am
Settle down to 30 whole minutes of work before the next meeting I don’t need to be in.
The days passed much the same in office life. Punctuated only by someone praising the passing of Wednesday and the arrival of Friday, until Monday crawled back around again and the weekly merry-go-round would begin again. As a freelancer, my weeks are designed by me. I decide my deadlines, my meetings, my uniform, my break times, my canine coworker and what I keep on my desk. I don’t ask anyone when I want or need a day off. And I’m happier, healthier, and more confident as a result.
What more could you want?