My Anniversary

Today is my freelancing anniversary and in the past 12 months, I’ve accomplished a hell of a lot. This isn’t even a humble brag because I’m damn proud of my achievements and I worked hard for every single one of them.

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I was scared shitless about becoming self-employed and the substantive dip in income that I was anticipating (and ugh, going back to the job centre).

I started, basically from scratch, in February (kinda before I’d quit my previous job), had a lot of legal hassle in March (quick, rush through the flat purchase before they realise that you’re going self-employed) and was on holiday for all of April. The nearest I came to the job centre was going in the shop next door.

I’ll be honest, I was so desperate to trade in the 9-5, that I blagged my way through most of it.

“Writing Samples? Here’s a scan of an article that was published in the paper in 2012 and I might have cropped the date out of the image.”

“Of course, I can do technical writing…Or I can damn well try.”

“Hmm, my CV doesn’t show any journalism or marketing experience since 2013… Oh wait, the company I worked for then, emailed me about coming on board again just as I restart my writing career. Oh, LinkedIn is so difficult… Guess, I’ll just change the dates to 2013-Present.”

In all honesty, in every aspect but my writing career, 2016 has been one long slap in the face. Politics = shit. News = shit. Family Deaths = shit.

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I am forever grateful that I get to do what I am good at and passionate about for a living, but there are many people that I owe my success too.

My fellow freelancers, Vikki and Ieva for helping me to navigate the confusing world of freelance writing, communicating job opportunities and proofreading submissions.

My friends, Erin, Mel, Sara, Rich and Kayla who offered moral support during dark periods of the past year, following family deaths (and many, many family hospitalisations).

My parents for loaning me money to pay for flat repairs and for never once telling me that I should be putting financial security above my mental health. They both know what it’s like have worked too hard for too long and the damage that can do to you.

Thank you for telling me that it was more than okay to follow my dreams, to work for a cause I believed in and to hand in my notice at a stable job when I wanted to tell a bitchy manager to go fuck herself.

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More than anything, I learnt who was willing to stand by me when the chips were hella down and I was at my worst. To those people, I owe my (relative) sanity, my career and my life.

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And to all those who tried their best to break me, my sincerest apologies that your lives are so empty.

 

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