The Good, the Bad and the Ugly Truth About Starting Out On Your Own

No one really prepares you for what it means to start out on your own. People tell you it’s bold. Brave. Even inspiring. But they rarely tell you the full truth, the entire, complicated, emotionally charged, and relentlessly demanding truth.

This is that truth.

Not a highlight reel. Not a coaching pitch. Not a glossy filtered version.

Just what it really feels like when you take the leap, build something from scratch, and try to make it in the world on your own terms.

The Good

Let’s start here, because when the good shows up, it’s really, really good.

You are your own boss. You make the calls. You set the standards. You decide how your day flows, which clients you take, and how you want to serve. You get to choose who you partner with, or whether you want to partner at all.

You can say yes to work that aligns with your values, your vision, and your voice. You can say no to misaligned opportunities without guilt, without fear. You work on things that interest you, stretch you, and remind you that you’re here to make a difference. If you’re like me, you choose work that lets you have impact, raw, real transformation work, from concept to execution. The kind where you get to see your fingerprints on the final outcome.

You also get to define your value. You decide your pricing, your structure, your terms. Flat fee? Time and materials? Include or exclude T&E? It’s all yours to decide. There is a strange kind of power in owning your rate, your worth, and your time.

And then there’s the human connection — for me, maybe the most joyful part of it all. You meet people. A lot of people. You listen. You share. You connect. You build trust. You get to be known and remembered for who you really are, not who you’re supposed to be inside someone else’s org chart. You design your brand, your voice, your presence. You get to decide how you want to be seen in the world.

And when it all clicks, when someone says, "You helped me see this clearly," or "You helped us move forward," that’s the magic. That’s the reason you keep going.

The Bad

But then there’s the other side. The less glamorous, less shareable side.

It’s hard. Really hard. Solo-preneurship is not for the faint of heart. You wear all the hats. Every single one. Strategy. Execution. Admin. Finance. Marketing. Sales. Content. Tech support. You are the department.

And without a consistent team around you, it can feel lonely. Isolating. There are days when you miss having someone to bounce an idea off, or to cover for you when life throws a curveball.

You spend hours on things no one ever sees — managing subscriptions, wrangling your calendar, writing copy, testing platforms, solving tech issues. You curate content because it must come from you. It must be authentic. It must sound like your heart, not a template.

The start-up costs add up. It’s not just the laptop or the mic or the mobile setup. It’s the stack of services, platforms, and tools you need just to stay visible and operational. And then there are the time zone meetings, the off-hour client calls, the never-ending to-do list that keeps whispering "one more thing" every time you try to rest.

You learn fast that "freedom" doesn’t mean free time. It means you are free to manage all of it.

The Ugly

And then... there’s the ugly.

The part no one writes about in LinkedIn posts.

The grind. The overwhelm. The blur of days that start before sunrise and end well past midnight. The Saturdays you steal back for client work. The Sundays you lose to prep or catch-up or just holding it all together.

The business development hustle. That’s a beast all its own. You know you’re a closer. But chasing leads? Endless emails? Overthinking what to post, when to post, how much is too much? It’s exhausting.

And then there’s the noise. Once you’re flagged as Founder/CEO, everyone wants to sell you something. Your inbox floods. Your LinkedIn fills with offers. People pitch you before they know you. You start spending more time filtering messages than reading them.

And then come the demons.

The ones that show up when you’re most depleted. When you miss a follow-up. When you second-guess a decision. When you’ve gone too many days without a win, a kind word, or even just a full night’s sleep.

They whisper:

"You’re in over your head."
"You’re never going to make it."
"You should quit."

And they don’t shout. They creep. They settle in the corners of your mind, waiting for the next moment of weakness.

But here’s what I’ve learned: they’re loudest right before the breakthrough. And the only way out is through.

What Keeps Me Going

It’s not perfection. It’s not control.

It’s discipline. It’s grit. It’s faith. The deep knowing that you’re here to build something real. That the seed you planted is growing, even if you can’t see it today.

You become a gardener. Tilling the soil. Planting the seeds. Watering daily. Watching for signs. Pulling weeds. Pruning. Grafting. Replanting. Knowing that not every idea will sprout. Not every sprout will bloom. But still, you show up.

And when that doesn’t get you through, you draw on another image: the mountain.

You're fully geared, carefully scaling a steep slope, one foot in front of the other. You can’t afford to look back too often, and you certainly can’t afford to look down. You don’t always see the summit. Sometimes you only see fog. Or silence. But occasionally, you spot another climber. Just ahead, or off to the side. And it reminds you that you’re not alone.

No one is carried up the mountain. But some are tethered for support. And in those moments, it’s the encouragement, the belief that it's been done before, and can be done again, that gives you the strength to keep going.

You pause to catch your breath, to scan the horizon, and you realize: this climb is yours. Your pace. Your path. Your purpose.

The air may be thin at the top, but the view is spectacular.  So, keep going!