I didn’t set out to start a business. I just wanted a bit of extra money between birthdays and bills, and enough left over for a decent takeaway at the weekend.
It was something I enjoyed, something I was fairly good at, and most importantly, something I could do once the kids were asleep. That’s how it began.
There was no dramatic resignation or glossy vision board. Just a kitchen table, a second-hand laptop, and a design hobby that had been simmering in the background for years. I never seriously thought about where it might lead.
The Order That Changed Everything
It all started with one Instagram post. I’d created a few simple digital prints and shared them online, mostly for friends and a handful of strangers who happened to follow me. One evening, I received a message asking if I could personalise one for a wedding. I said yes. That, yes, turned into a trickle of messages, then a stream.
Within weeks, I had more orders than I could manage in a single evening. I chalked it up to wedding season or just a lucky streak—but deep down, I knew something had shifted.
The Double Life
For almost a year, I lived a split existence. By day, I worked a steady 9–5 job: reliable income, regular hours, and a predictable routine. At night, I was running what had become a not-so-small business from my kitchen, juggling Etsy listings, custom orders, client emails, and the occasional printer meltdown that made me want to throw in the towel.
People often talk about passion projects as if they’re effortless. Mine wasn’t. It was equal parts exhilarating and exhausting. One day I’d feel unstoppable; the next, I’d question everything I thought I knew. It was chaos but with invoices.
The Decision I Didn’t Expect to Make
I didn’t have a big plan to go full-time. I kept telling myself I’d just “see how it goes.” But the side hustle kept expanding—and so did the pressure. It became clear I’d either have to take the leap or run myself into the ground trying to do both.
One morning, I realized I hadn’t taken a proper day off in months. Emails were piling up. My responses were getting shorter. And worst of all, I was starting to forget why I loved design in the first place.
So, I did something I never thought I’d do: I handed in my notice.
When It Stops Being a Hobby
Turning something you love into your full-time job is strange. Wonderful, yes—but strange. You start measuring things not by how much you enjoy doing them but by how much time they take, and what you could’ve earned doing something else. You learn quickly that being busy isn’t the same as being profitable.
In those first few months, I had to face everything I’d previously ignored: tax, stock, packaging, fulfillment, and branding. Suddenly, every order carried a responsibility, and every choice had consequences.
Still, with all that weight came a sense of freedom I’d never had before.
Finding Support When You’re Drowning
At first, I thought I had to do it all myself. After all, it was my name on the order slips. If something went wrong, it was on me. That belief didn’t last long. There’s only so much you can do on four hours of sleep and pure stubbornness.
I started asking for help. Sometimes, that meant hiring someone to handle admin. Other times, it meant attending a free webinar or phoning a friend who’d been through this years before.
What I realized was simple: asking for help doesn’t mean you’re not capable. It just means you know your time is worth protecting.
The Money Bit No One Talks About
Here’s what people often leave out: growth is exciting, but also demanding, especially when you’re figuring out things like business loans for bad credit. I never imagined I’d be researching finance options, but I reached a point where I needed better equipment, and my personal credit score wasn’t exactly shining.
I was relieved to find that there are options out there, even if your credit history isn’t perfect. It’s not the fun part of running a business, but it’s real. And pretending that money doesn’t matter is a luxury most founders can’t afford.
Shifting from Surviving to Building
Once the constant panic faded, I started to think more clearly. I stopped reacting to every ping or order and started building proper systems. I set working hours. I created templates. I finally took a long, honest look at the numbers.
There’s something calming about wrapping structure around your creativity. I still love the work, but now the work loves me back.
What I’d Tell Anyone in a Similar Spot
If you’ve got a side gig—a product, a service, a hobby—that’s starting to gain traction, pay attention. You don’t need to announce your plans to the world or quit your job tomorrow. But do start treating it with care and respect.
Keep track of what you earn. Save your receipts. Set boundaries. Say no sometimes. And don’t wait for someone else to declare it a “real” business before you do.
What Went Right (and What Definitely Didn’t)
Here’s what I got right: I listened to my customers. I showed up consistently. I let the business grow slowly instead of trying to force it into something it wasn’t ready to be.
What I got wrong: I undercharged. I overcommitted. I ignored tax stuff far longer than I should have.
Still, the mistakes taught me more than any course ever could.
Now That It’s My Full-Time Job
These days, I still work from the kitchen table—though I’ve upgraded my chair and finally got a second-hand label printer that doesn’t jam. I take actual lunch breaks. I bill on time. And I’ve got a plan that’s more than just a scribbled list on the back of a receipt.
What surprises me most is how much I still enjoy it. Even now, as my full-time job, it still feels personal. If anything, it means more than it ever did.
I never meant to become a business owner. But I’m glad I let the side hustle grow anyway.
