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Part 1 of 3: The Story

This is the first in a three-part series about taking the leap into self-employment and what it taught me about resilience, support systems, and leading through uncertainty. In this piece, I share the deeply personal story of how I made the toughest decision of my life.

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The Collision of Crisis and Opportunity

Several years ago, my world was in pieces. I’d been made redundant from Business Link, which closed around 15 years ago, and this loss of stability collided painfully with a difficult divorce.

After moving between various roles, I eventually found a place where I truly thrived—running my own department for a larger company. I managed a division providing grant funding, fundraising support, and consultancy to third-sector organisations. I had complete freedom and autonomy; it was essentially my own successful business, just operating under someone else’s umbrella.

Unfortunately, the parent company expanded too quickly and didn’t establish firm foundations. When a single contract went wrong, the entire operation crashed, and I faced redundancy yet again.

In this moment of crisis, the founding director made me an unexpected, life-changing offer: I could take my entire side of the business—clients, caseloads, ongoing work, everything that hadn’t yet been invoiced—with no strings attached. It was a golden opportunity, but it felt like a terrifying ultimatum.

Paralysed by the Past

This was no simple business decision; it was an emotional reckoning. My ex-husband’s repeated business failures had left me utterly terrified of going solo. I’d become comfortable as an employee; yes, the owner profited substantially from my skills, but I felt secure without the crushing weight of full financial responsibility.

Yet, a part of me was excited, even defiant. I knew I had the capability to succeed, with a ready-made client base that could generate a decent annual income. I knew the service was profitable. But stepping out of that secure employee comfort zone and risking everything I’d established for my children was petrifying. The decision felt completely overwhelming.

I experienced significant internal conflict. I’d talked the talk for so long—I knew it was time to walk it. I had a professional reputation to maintain and expectations to meet. But the fear of failing my children, of being unable to provide for them, and of losing everything we’d established was the heavy anchor dragging me down. I frantically searched for a middle ground that simply didn’t exist.

My Mother, My Anchor

My mother offered invaluable advice at this critical juncture, delivered with the blunt love only a parent can give. “If you’re going to do it, do it now,” she said.

She was terminally ill at the time, and my sons and I had moved in to care for her. As a single parent, her perspective was my critical safety net: “Do it now, whilst I’m still alive and there’s no worry over bills being paid. Get it off the ground and build it up. If it fails, it fails… but I’m alive and the bills are covered, so you’ve nothing to lose.”

Mum was the turning point. She helped me see that the only thing I truly risked was my pride. My fear of being unable to provide for my kids had been the only thing holding me back. She was my rock, my guiding light. Without her, I wouldn’t have taken the leap.

The Tactical Leap and the New Reality

Once committed, the relief was immense. I pulled myself together, went to the Jobcentre to sign on to Jobseeker’s Allowance, and asked to be referred to their business start-up programme. This was a tactical move—it gave me the time I needed to sort out the legalities, clients, marketing, and everything else required to properly establish the business, without the pressure of constant job applications.

I established the company structure to ensure my children would be protected if things went wrong. Crucially, my previous employer handled the client transfer professionally, and some of those initial clients are still with me today. It truly felt like a weight had been lifted.

The primary challenges came not from the work itself, but from the non-payers—clients I eventually had to take to court. My uncle in Canada’s practical wisdom proved right: “Don’t concentrate on the invoices going out—concentrate on the money coming in from those invoices.”

Later, when Mum’s condition worsened, I experienced the hidden blessing of self-employment. I realised I could never have found an employer who would provide the flexibility and time I needed to care for her whilst working. I worked around caring for my mother and children—late nights, during her naps, and prioritising tasks to ensure everything fit together.

From this monumental decision, I learned that I could do it. I discovered that my core motivation wasn’t financial gain but making a difference for the third-sector organisations I was helping. Most importantly, I learned that I could arrange my work around my family, always putting them first.

My only regret? Not making this move sooner. Despite immense challenges, like losing nearly 80% of my income during the COVID pandemic, I achieved something remarkable: within just three years, through careful spending and effective budgeting, I’d saved enough to buy a house outright. Cash.