When I decided that I was going to go freelance, it’s safe to say that I had high expectations of how my life was going to change. A few months on and it seems the reality is not quite the same.
Expectation:
I get up in the morning, sun shining, birds singing. I pop to yoga, or for a morning gym session to get the body going. I sit down for a delicious, wholesome breakfast, perhaps a smoothie, as I start to go through my impeccably organized inbox. I write my daily intentions on beautiful stationary, set out on my immaculate desk and begin work.
The cat snoozes on my lap happily whilst I work away, full of inspiration and motivation. Perhaps for lunch I change out of my casual chic loungeware to meet a friend in town for some food and a catch up. We laugh and look like something from a commercial about how much fun you can have whilst on your period.
Maybe in the afternoon I head to a client meeting. Obviously I’m dressed like a stylish business woman, walking confidently in heels and drinking a Starbucks. The meeting goes well – I land a huge client and celebrate with a fancy meal with Mr Wright and, of course, some celebratory bubbly.
We book a last minute European city break getaway for the weekend, because we can, and go to bed happy and relaxed.
Reality:
I am rudely awoken by my alarm clock and/or a cat sat on me. I am too busy/achy for the gym, so grab some knockoff Coco Pops to scoff as I start writing endless, panicked lists on scraps of paper and old receipts. (That I definitely should be putting safely in a box ready to do my taxes… Oops).
I try to tidy some of the nonsense that has made its way on to my desk, before wading though a million emails, an alarming number of which offer to help cure my erectile dysfunction…
A deadline is invariably looming, so, still wearing my pyjamas, I get to work, with my loving kitten attacking my hand every time I dare to move the mouse. Fab.
Lunch is something hastily thrown together from the fridge (reminding me that I really must squeeze in a food shop soon!), and scarfed down on the way to meet a client. The “stylish business woman” aesthetic is somewhat ruined when the barista in Costa points out that whilst eating my sandwich, I have managed to get lipstick on my chin (true story).
During the client meeting I agree to do all of the things, regardless of my distinct lack of time.
Steven and I grab a quick Maccys on the way home (because we still haven’t found time to do a food shop), and when we get in, we both set up camp in his office to carry on working. At least this way we’re in the same room together…
After several glasses of much needed, but cheap and cheerful, wine, we head to bed. Whilst in bed I will be checking messages, scheduling client social media and researching for articles – anything I’ve not found time to do during the day. Eventually I will fall into an unrestful sleep in which I dream about the ever-growing piles of work…
That said, going freelance is easily the best career decision I’ve ever made and I wouldn’t change it for the world… I could do with a holiday though!