I started freelance video editing by pure accident. In the beginning, I was just helping out an acquaintance, cleaning up a few frames here and there. No contracts, no expectations. I thought simply: get it done, earn a little coffee money, and call it a day.
At that time, I was completely fearless. Mostly because I had nothing to lose.
But things took a turn when that first client referred me to a second, and then a third. When the work stopped being “just for fun,” my mindset started to shift.
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The safety net of being an “Amateur”
In the early stages, I was afraid of doing a bad job, afraid of criticism, and afraid of unhappy clients. But if any of that actually happened, I had the perfect shield to comfort myself: “I’m not a professional, anyway.”
There was a strange comfort in that sentence. I worked on instinct, without pressure, and without looking too far ahead. Failure, if it happened, would only prove one thing: I wasn’t cut out for this line of work. That’s it.
“Sometimes, the ‘just for fun’ label is the safest hideout we have to escape the pressures of growing up.”
When success is no longer a fluke
After a few smooth projects, old clients came back and new ones offered long-term collaborations. By this point, my skills were good enough to handle the work; the fear of “not being able to do it” had vanished. But in its place, a new set of fears emerged:
- If I take on more, will I burn out?
- If clients are used to this quality, can I maintain this streak for long?
- If I get serious about this path, am I pushing myself too far out of my comfort zone?
I started procrastinating. I turned down great opportunities using very “logical” excuses. But the truth was, it wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work—it was that I wasn’t ready to be better.
Why does failure feel so… safe?
I realized a paradox: Failure gives me the right to retreat. If I blow a project, everything goes back to square one. I can proudly say that freelancing isn’t for me, and then I don’t have to study more, I don’t have to upgrade my skills, and I don’t have to make any hard choices. Failure is an exit strategy.
Success, on the other hand, forces me to choose. It no longer lets me hide behind the “just for fun” label. It demands that I be more disciplined, more responsible, and more professional.
“Success is a commitment. It doesn’t just bring rewards; it brings the weight of expectation.”
After all, what was I really afraid of?
After a lot of soul-searching, I realized I wasn’t afraid of difficult clients or a heavy workload. I was actually afraid of three things:
- The rise in expectations: If I do well once, people will expect me to be good forever. I was afraid of the day my “streak” would end.
- Losing the right to be wrong: Once you’re seen as “capable,” every tiny mistake feels heavier and more blameworthy.
- Having to admit I could actually go far: Once I accept that I have talent, I no longer have the right to see myself as a “temporary” worker. I have to learn more, keep my word, and be serious about every choice.
In other words, I was afraid to take responsibility for my own potential.
How I keep moving forward with the fear
I chose not to force myself to “dive in” all at once. I started small: I took on one new project but set very clear boundaries regarding scope and time. This wasn’t to prove how good I was, but to observe where I stood and what I was still missing.
Slowly, I understood that a few good projects didn’t make me perfect. I still have many gaps to fill. Success, at this point, isn’t a badge of arrogance; it’s a reminder that I’m on the right track. I give myself permission to slow down, to fix what’s broken, and to use fear as a fuel for self-improvement rather than a reason to hide.
If you’re working on something and suddenly find yourself hesitating just as things start looking up, you might not be afraid of failing. You might be afraid of succeeding.
“Knowing you can go far is a type of power, but carrying that power is what it means to grow up.”
What about you? Have you ever felt a wave of fear when great opportunities knocked on your door? Share your story with me!
