The morning started the same as too many others before it: with my collie mix, Gus, trying valiantly to get me out of bed. Valiantly, but unsuccessfully — the best I could muster was a brief flutter of my eyes and a roll in the other direction. My dog may have wanted me up, but I wanted to put off the inevitable struggle of the day as long as I could.

My work as a freelance writer had been s-l-o-w. Days without much work bled into weeks, and somewhere along the way the catastrophizing, negative thoughts began to creep in. This is what failure is, I thought. I was convinced that I’d burn through my little savings in no time and end up broke, not even able to do basic things like feed the dog or pay the bills. Even though, up until that point, things had been consistent and — dare I say — even moderately prosperous for me, I was sure that any success I’d had was sheer luck, and that my luck had run out.

Thankfully, I don’t feel that way anymore. A couple of accepted pitches sparked a crucial confidence boost, and I found myself a therapist to top all therapists. Still, even though things have started to turn around, there are moments when I’m gripped with anxiety about the future of my freelancing career. It’s isolating, and lonely — and, as it turns out, a pretty common experience among people in my situation [...read more]