Around 4 months ago, I decided to join the freelance community. I wanted control of everything in my life.

Earlier this year, I had decided to leave a career in the military, and start a new path in a London-based global media organisation. Life was simple – you just turn up, do your job, don’t rock the boat too much, go home, get paid, buy nice things. It’s that straightforward. But simple isn’t always the best and by now, I’d had enough of my life being defined by a safe career path that led to an unknown horizon.

‘Be careful what you get good at’ – was the warning from a teammate and friend that had been in the organisation for around half a decade. She had grown so cosy, that her drive and edge had been burred away by organisational politics. The golden handcuffs had worn grooves deep into her wrists and she knew it. Her only escapism was now found in drawing graphic novels in her evenings to keep that creative spark burning.

Metaphorically, it feels like I’m at the edge of a cliff breathing in the cool oxygen-deprived air. Looking down, I can’t make out anything below 100 metres – it’s all hidden below a thick blanket of cloud. I know I’m high up but I don’t know how high. The rock face is as clear as day and indicates it may push out into the fog, but I can’t be certain. I look back up towards the horizon and see the tall mountains surrounding around me – its almost like they’re goading me to jump by how tall they’ve become.

On a warm Saturday afternoon in June, after 5 months of surrendering myself to a 2-3 hour daily commute to Oxford Circus from Surrey - I quit.  The clock started ticking and once again, I felt excitement at what could be.

The one-month month notice period passed and I’d found freedom: No more weekly meetings, no more daily commutes on the underground, no more overflowing inboxes, no more performance reviews and crucially, no more weekends on call. But there was also a number of other things now missing: no more guaranteed monthly income, no more paid sick days, no holiday entitlement, no medical care and most definitely no performance bonus!

So you step off the cliff, arch your back and spread your arms and legs into an aerodynamic shape. At first, you look out of control. You’re falling fast and perilously close to the rock face.

Factors like wind, temperature, air currents and thermal pockets make you unstable and serve only to increase your heart rate. You need faith that the cells will inflate, the suit will find its shape and you will gain lift. Precious lift that will help him to avoid the certain rocky death that waits beneath the cloud.

The month’s pass and precious savings are getting spent. I’ve travelled thousands of miles to go to meetings, had hundreds of coffee chats, been to dozens of seminars and cycled across London, twice. They say that smooth waters do not make skilful sailors – this sea has been anything but calm: my first client (who also happened to be an old friend) – took advantage of my trusting nature and disappeared without paying anything for an entire month’s work. Bringing with it a fresh wave of economic uncertainty and not to mention, the immense feelings of frustration, anger and hurt. This is my first major lesson as a freelancer and it’s barely been 2 months since I started.

In the gig economy: your reputation is everything. You pour your energy, enthusiasm and effort into all of your projects – they could lead to another gig or referral after all. If your work doesn’t turn out to the high quality your client expects, you cannot blame it on anything else but your own performance.

Despite these factors, I would not change this for the world. It’s an adventure! Every day brings a new challenge or issue you that can’t predict. So if you find yourself at the top of the mountain, looking over the edge and wondering what’s below: believe in the suit you’re wearing and jump – you will fall, but you’ll quickly learn to fly.