Self Employed

There are many hard and weird things about jumping ship.

The sorrow I expected, the freedom seemed promising.

But now, when days stretch before me with everything and nothing to do, it's a little daunting, and on occasion more than a little upsetting.

Going freelance means flexible.

It means I am in charge.

It means I only take work I want.

(except when in a fit of panic, I say yes to anything because I am terrified of the gas bill - which happens more than I'd like to admit)

It also means no rules. I set my own deadlines. I'm the only one checking up on me. When it's work I'm none too keen on, it's like having a toddler in my brain.

Plus, the whole reason I left work was to have time. to stop. to think. to do NOTHING. to have filled my weeks with laundry, dusting, email, facebook, and piles of work means I'm doing exactly the opposite.

I'm avoiding my life, because honestly, I don't know what I'm going to find. I know it's time to clear the rubble. Harvest the good and bin the rest.

But I don't know what goes in which pile.

Not being sure of what I'm about to lose is making it a scarier proposition than I expected.