Can you tell I have an icon?

I keep saying I’m funemployed.  But I’m really not.  There are clients.  There are deliverables.  There are thousands of photos.  But I just get to decide when I work, and how I work.  That morning post-workout coffee is no longer limited to 15 minutes!

Since leaving my not-so-fulfilling full time in-an-office consulting gig last week, I’ve been feeling like Will Ferrell encountering New York City for the first time in Elf.  Except that I can work my way around Photoshop. I’ve been feeling more responsive.  I’m feeling so much lighter (because sitting is the new smoking).  And I am back to my slightly frantic self (see Muppets: Animal).  Cue George Michael, RIP.

But also like there’s a fire under my ass again.  Because for the past 6 months, I’ve more or less been plotting, Dr. Evil style, of my return to the freelance environment.  There are websites that need to get updated.  Portfolios that need to be shared.  The hustle is real and it is so back.  I have plans that need to get manifested.  I even just drafted something called the Berlin Strategy (doesn’t that sound like a sequel to Homeland?).

Except I might choose to catch up on 12 episodes of Supergirl instead while editing photos I took 2 years ago.

I first came across creative accountability in one of Katie’s posts.   And she’s totally right.  We have our clients that keep our work accountable, but as creative entrepreneurs, who keeps us moving forward?  I’m not exactly a start up with a venture capitalist that wants to see returns.  Nor am I actually in school and have classmates to commiserate with.  And a career coach isn’t exactly in the budget. I needed someone else, in Phnom Penh, who was on the hustle, with clients and personal goals and learning to pursue too.  And all I had to do was ask her out!  We meet for regular coffees, look at each other’s work, bounce ideas off of each other and see how each other are doing on that road upwards.  Doodles may be involved.

This all helps to keep that fire under my ass lit, under control, with enough heat to keep me on my toes.  But I also have some time for myself, to feel bored and find ways to get out of it, and to fail, or figure out a whole new set of things I can do (I see you, coding).  The doors are wide open now and I get to pick which one I go through.  Come on baby, light my fire*.

*Oooh cheesey, but I like it.

Photo Credit: Łukasz Cyrus

I don’t talk about it a lot, perhaps it’s because of the way I was raised (Chinese parents aren’t big on talking about emotions), or the way I am (an annoyingly and not healthful propensity for dealing with problems on my own…eldest child syndrome?).  But when I get a pause in the work flow, I don’t tend to enjoy it.  Instead, the anxiety monster lets loose and it gets biblical.  I’m not even religious, so if I’m comparing it to the apocalypse, it must be bad.  And perhaps it’s the change in the seasons (the monsoon is here), or the fact that work is picking up, but all the feelings are happening and they all are gunning for me to shoot myself in the foot.  These include:

• I am completely and utterly uninspired.  I clearly suck.
• Do I actually belong here? Or do I stick out like a sore thumb?
• Why the heck are you hiring me?
• I’m totally going to screw this up.  You’re really making a mistake here.
• I should never have left [insert big well-paying international job]
• Elevated heart rates galore.

The truth is, things are going great.  I am really happy about where I’m going and the rate I’m doing it.  I even bought myself a bunch of things (yay cookbooks!! and because money).  I really suck at self care when it comes to being mindful, but a series of great reads (and a watch) have epically helped me to get out of that stupid anxiety bear trap.  They either give me brand new ideas or validate things I’ve felt. And I read them over and over again when the monster sneaks in.  Because they are that great.

There are lessons in making it in comedy, slow and small, from one of my favourite performers.

Even the biggest creatives in the industry feel it too.

By November, I’ll basically working four very different jobs.  This is not at all a bad thing.

20 minutes of writing (or colouring in my case) is like a really sharp knife. (Thank you Victoria!)

Lessons learned. Lessons learned.  Lessons learned.  That’s three great sources filled with people who’ve been through it.

Wait. Here’s one more.

Oh right. One more.

The two-ish years of this career pivot were worth it, even if it meant a pay cut.

And here’s a crash course all about it (also Camille Rowe is a girl crush).