In the golden age of gig economy romanticism, “freelance” has become a buzzword for freedom. It’s marketed like a lifestyle upgrade. No bosses, no commutes, just creativity on your own terms… Instagram makes it look idyllic; working from a cafe in Lisbon, deadlines in yoga pants, replying to emails between beach dips and oat milk lattes. But behind the aesthetic lies a far more complicated, often underwhelming reality. Being freelance is, frankly, overrated.

The biggest selling point of freelance life is freedom. Sure, you can technically work from anywhere. But when your livelihood depends on chasing invoices, juggling five clients, and saying “yes” to everything because you don’t know when the next project will land… Freedom becomes a mirage. You don’t have one boss, you have ten.You don’t work 9 to 5, you work always. And vacations? They’re just workdays in disguise, with guilt attached. Ofc the hustle is not that much.

Freelancers aren’t just creatives or technicians. They’re also their own marketing team, accountant, project manager, and therapist. Every gig is a pitch. Every invoice is a negotiation. Every late payment is a stress spiral.

It’s not about doing what you love. It’s about doing what pays and doing it constantly, sometimes under people who treat you as disposable. Burnout doesn’t knock. It barges in wearing a deadline. No benefits. No insurance. No sick days. No paid time off. Feast or famine is the norm. One month, you’re flush. Next, you’re wondering if you should go back to that job you swore you’d never return to. No team. No clashing ideas, No support. You are your own. No brainstorming. No learnings from a colleague. And in an algorithm-driven world, your value is increasingly tied to metrics — likes, followers, clicks — rather than your actual work.

There’s also a hidden emotional toll: isolation. Coworkers become memories. Office banter is replaced by silence and self-doubt. You’re always on, yet often alone with no one to bounce ideas off, no creative friction, no spontaneous lunch breaks to anchor the day.

Let’s stop pretending it’s the perfect lifestyle. Let’s stop selling it like it’s the dream, it’s just a different kind of trap.

Opinion