Black Water
Three years ago, I began a journey most people are too afraid to start: I began working for myself full-time and living off of the income I make from doing freelance work.
Actually, no. That's not accurate.
Three years ago, I impulsively left a job with stable income, health insurance, a 401k, and opportunities for growth all because I hated the idea of doing meaningless work from 9 to 5 dreaming about a day where I didn't have to be glued to an office chair doing work I hate for people that don't care about me. Since then I've been hardcore struggling full time, learning as I go, making every mistake you can possibly make, dancing atop the fiery hot coals of stress, worry, fear, anxiety, doubt, and making ends meet with the wildly unstable income that's as unpredictable as the weather in Ohio. But hey, at least I can work in my underwear.
My work is my life. I mean that both literally and figuratively. There are lots of pros and cons of being your own boss. Here are some pros to working freelance.
Pros
I set my own hours
the majority of my money goes into my pocket (and Uncle Sam's)
no nagging boss to report to
I can work at a coffee shop
I can choose what kind of work I want to focus on
Now here's a more accurate representation of those benefits.
Pros
I set my own hours my hours are wildly unpredictable and erratic — some days I work for 14 hours, some days 2.
the majority of my money goes into my pocket (and Uncle Sam's) over 50% of my income goes towards business expenses, the rest goes to Uncle Sam, food, and my impulsive shopping habits.
no nagging boss to report to that's true, I don't have a boss to report to — but I also don't have anyone to truly hold me accountable. I also answer to oftentimes dozens of clients using multiple communication platforms at any given time.
I can work at a coffee shop I go work at a coffee shop and feel incredibly lonely and isolated with my nose stuffed into my computer and headphones in — I have no co-workers or colleagues to talk about my projects with.
I can choose what kind of work I want to focus on I have bills to pay and somewhat of a life to live. I'm at the mercy of the work that is available to me, whether I enjoy it or not.
I have learned the hard way about the cruel, difficult aspects of living a life of constant hustle. Many times throughout the course of the last few years I've found myself yearning for the days when I got to leave work at work, where I didn't have 45 projects to simultaneously attend to & people hounding me left and right when I fall behind. Of course, this is my own fault. I could be better. But there are a few key reasons why I have spent the entire year in limbo, progressively caring less and less about my life and hoping someday that I would wake up and the looming cloud of pressure and stress would one day disappear.
Let's talk about mental health.
My struggles with mental health reach back to my teenage years (emo music and skateboarding aside). The very first instance I can recall where I experienced an unsettling feeling in my mind & body was on New Years Day 2011. I remember feeling like my mind was outside of my body, that my conscious was floating above my head. When I reflect on that moment now I can attribute signs of anxiety and depression. That feeling would soon wrap its cold, unforgiving grip around my soul.
Over the last 8 years, I've experienced and learned about many different types of mental disorders in their colorful forms. Some are general like poor self-esteem or anxiety, others more deep-rooted and particular like Bipolar Disorder, Aboulomania, and Borderline Personality Disorder. I am a mixture of many different chemical imbalances brought on by both environmental influences and, of course, genetics. Together they create my identity, a perfect storm. Anxiety leads me to chronically overthink every aspect of my life, preparing for scenarios that might happen or, most likely, never happen. Depression leaves me strapped to my bedside for days at a time watching YouTube videos of my heroes living lives I could only ever experience by watching on a screen, eating a loathing combination of Skittles and Cheez-Its for dinner. Bipolar Disorder is my mental puppet master, rapidly changing my mood from uncompromising euphoria where I feel absolutely unstoppable to a crumbling sense of hopelessness, borderline suicidal, within often times a matter of hours.
There is one particular side effect of anxiety that I want to talk about further. Something that affects me every day but more immensely in the past year.
Procrastination is often associated with laziness or lack of ambition. During my childhood, my family and teachers would harshly condemn my tendency to procrastinate. As an adult, I still procrastinate, probably more than ever. However, I now have a better understanding of why it is I procrastinate so heavily despite people telling me that I have a lot of ambition. This summer I stumbled upon a Reddit post that linked to a New York Times article about procrastination. After reading, I skimmed the Reddit comments and ended up saving a response that gave me pause:
"...the biggest cause of procrastination is an inability to navigate or mitigate the negative emotions associated with doing a thing."
"It also explains much of what we see in people presenting with ADHD. Procrastination and a difficulty regulating emotions are two hallmark characteristics, which it increasingly seems are one in the same."
"In people without executive impairment, it would make sense that mindfulness, which is the brain calling attention to itself, is much like a person consciously exercising the muscle of its executive function; analyzing and scrutinizing the signals coming from the various circuits and choosing one and muting others."
Aha. Bingo. Now let's dive into the root cause of my disposition. Storytime.
In the fourth grade, everyone in the class was assigned a project that consisted of building or crafting something hand-made (I can't remember the exact details). We were told to write and/or sketch our idea, bring it to the teacher for approval, craft our masterpiece, and present the finished product in front of the class explaining the process in detail. My ambitious fourth-grade self loved to draw, so I proceeded to draw this beautiful wooden bench that looked like it was made by the talented hands of Nick Offerman. I knew my Grandpa was good with tools, so I thought he would be able to help me make a bench that would put any Pottery Barn creation to shame. When I showed my teacher my plans, she, rightfully so, questioned my ability to follow through on such an ambitious idea. I convinced her that it was unquestionably accomplishable, even though deep down I knew it wasn't realistic by any means. But I wanted it to be realistic. I wanted it to be real. I wanted to show that I could make it happen.
“Procrastination is an emotion regulation problem, not a time management problem”
As time went on I put the project to the side, living my fourth-grade life and not thinking about the future any further than what Pokémon gym badges I had to obtain or whether or not my friend Colin would be able to go exploring in the woods after school every day. As the deadline crept closer and closer, I grew more and more terrified of asking for my Grandpa's help in making the bench. I was anxious to ask him, afraid of the answer that I knew he would say. It wasn't until the night before the presentation that I quietly, with all the shame in the world, asked my Mom if she would help me. I confessed to her the situation I'd put myself in. She was furious, disappointed, and began to scold me about the consequences of procrastinating and laziness. The next day I walked into class with a small, embarrassing bench in my trembling hands made out of a dozen popsicle sticks held together by nothing but Elmer's Glue. I was forced to present my flimsy creation in front of the entire class with tears of humiliation dissolving the glue of both my bench and my self-confidence.
This was not the first or only instance where fear and procrastination played the leading role in my life. Most of my life has been trying to understand and live with low self-confidence, deep feelings of inadequacy, and the chronic inability to make decisions.
This entire year I have watched myself slowly become engulfed in quicksand. I have never felt more sad, alone, hopeless and, ultimately, a failure. Sometimes I have moments where I feel a little sense of hope, only to have it disappear before I can cling to it, like a child trying to catch a bubble in the air.
When my stepfather passed away I shut myself off and put my entire life on hold. I have been heavily procrastinating ever since.