I’m waiting for the little guy to fall asleep — keeping one ear on stirrings from the crib. Are they noises I need to attend to, or is it just sounds of falling asleep? I’ve already performed binky patrol reinsertion 2 or 3 times already (and retrieved one from underneath the crib).
Today is my first day as a freelancer. A full-time freelancer. A woman without a 9-to-5 job.
I actually did it.
I’ve been wanting to write about it for a while, but I haven’t known how. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t in many ways. Yeah, that’s a ringing endorsement of a freelance writer – someone who doesn’t know what to write… it’s different when it’s about you. Writing about other people is easy.
Suffice to say, I’ve actually made the bold step into free agentdom. I do have some steady work lined up–from my former employer–which does make it easier. But still. I was going to write that I’m on my own now, but I don’t feel like I’m on my own. I feel like I’m hand-in-hand with the universe. I feel like I’m being well taken care of. That I can trust that everything is perfectly OK and will only get better.
As I was driving home yesterday to pick up Duncan from the sitter’s for the last time, I had so many emotions going on that I didn’t know how to describe them all.
Giddy happiness that I would no longer have to be away from Duncan, that I get to strike out on my own and see where my ambition and talent will lead.
Apprehension about leaving a decent-paying steady job with great benefits and a myriad of perks.
Sadness at losing my status, changing the relationship with my coworkers (being a freelancer won’t be the same as being a colleague).
Nostalgia for a job I was so excited to get 5 years ago.
Hysteria (mild) that I’d gone and given up the steady paycheck direct deposited into my bank account.
Knowledge, deep and clear, that I was doing exactly the right thing. That’s what continues to resonate with me the most, above the hubbub of the rest.