Why I Left the Rat Race (And Why It Was the Best Decision I Ever Made)

I left full-time employment to become a sovereign consultant, and it was the best decision I ever made. It wasn't all plain sailing (the bad habits defo crept back in), but getting control of my time, my work, and being present for my family made it all worth it.

Why I Left the Rat Race (And Why It Was the Best Decision I Ever Made)

I get asked about this a lot. Usually over a coffee, sometimes in a DM, occasionally from someone who's clearly sat at their desk on a Tuesday afternoon wondering if there's more to life than back-to-back Teams calls and annual reviews. So here it is... the honest version of why I decided to go it alone, what it's actually been like, and why I wouldn't change it for the world.


Why did I leave?

If I'm honest, it wasn't one big dramatic moment. There was no table-flipping rage quit. It was more of a slow realisation that I was trading time, the one thing I can't get back, for someone else's priorities, and fundamentally making them rich.

I'd been working in IT and cloud architecture for years at that point. I was good at what I did, I enjoyed the work, but I kept hitting the same wall. I'd be on calls during bedtime. I'd be sat in an office (or later, a home office) feeling like I was present for everyone except the people who actually mattered to me.

And the thing that really got to me? I was building other people's businesses. Day in, day out, I was making someone else's vision happen while my own ideas just sat in a txt file on my desktop.

So I made the jump. I set up Yobah, went sovereign (as in, fully independent, no umbrella, no agency, just me and my Ltd company), and took control.


What does "sovereign consultant" actually mean?

I use the word sovereign deliberately. It's not just about being self-employed or freelance. It's about being in full control of your time, your direction, and your decisions.

When you're a sovereign consultant, you choose who you work with. You choose when you work. You choose what you want to get known for. Nobody's telling you to pivot to a technology you don't believe in, or to sit in a meeting that could've been an email (we've all been there).

For me, it meant I could:

  • Be present for my family. The School run, the sports day dads race (which I win btw), and just being around when the kids get home. That stuff matters more than any contract.
  • Work on things I actually care about. Azure architecture, identity, landing zones... the stuff I'm genuinely passionate about. Not whatever the business decided was the flavour of the month. To this day, I still hate SharePoint!
  • Build something of my own. Yobah wasn't just a vehicle for contracting. It's a consulting brand, a set of services, a body of knowledge that I'm building over time.
  • Say no. This is a big one. The ability to turn down work that doesn't fit, that doesn't excite you, or that would mean sacrificing the things you went independent for in the first place.

It wasn't all plain sailing

I'd be lying if I said it was easy from day one. It wasn't. Not even close.

The first thing that hits you is the worry about being billable. When you're employed, money lands in your account every month regardless. When you're on your own, if you're not billing, you're not earning. And that creates a pressure that can, if you're not careful, put you right back into the same habits you were trying to escape. The wife was livid everytime we went on holiday, and I would be complaining how much i'd lost by being there.

I'll be honest, the bad habits crept back in. I found myself working evenings. Checking emails on weekends. Saying yes to things I should've said no to, purely because I was scared of having gaps in the diary. There were months where I was working harder than I ever did as an employee, and I'd catch myself thinking "hang on, wasn't the whole point of this to get my time back?"

It's a mine-field, really. You go from one extreme (being told what to do) to the other (having to figure it all out yourself), and it takes a while to find the balance.

The other thing nobody tells you about is the loneliness. When you're a one-person operation, there's no team to bounce ideas off. No Friday afternoon chat in the kitchen. You have to be intentional about building a network and actually talking to people (which is why I ended up getting a co-working space... best decision I made after the initial jump).


So was it worth it?

Without question. Yes. A hundred times yes.

Here's what actually changed for me:

I'm there for the big moments and the small ones. I don't miss assemblies. I'm home for dinner. If one of the kids is poorly, I'm not having an awkward conversation with a manager about needing time off. I just deal with it.

I'm healthier. Not in a "I run marathons now" way (defo not), but the stress is different. It's my stress, tied to my decisions. That feels completely different to the stress of being in an organisation where you've got no control over the chaos around you.

I'm better at what I do. When you choose your work, you get to go deep on the things you're actually interested in. My technical skills have grown more in the last few years than they did in a decade of employment, because I'm working on problems I genuinely want to solve.

I've built something I'm proud of. Yobah is mine. The clients, the reputation, the relationships, the content, all of it. That feeling of ownership is something you just don't get when you're employee number 4,372.

I've got headspace. This is the one people don't expect. When you're not constantly dealing with office politics, restructures, and someone else's strategy, you've got room to think. To plan. To actually be creative.


What would I tell someone thinking about it?

A few things, honestly:

  1. Get your finances sorted first. Have a buffer. I'm not going to put a number on it because everyone's situation is different, but don't jump without a safety net. Get an accountant early (I can't recommend this enough).
  2. Accept that the worry doesn't go away, it just changes shape. You'll always worry about something. The difference is you're worrying about your own thing, not someone else's.
  3. Set boundaries from day one. Decide what your working hours are. Decide what you won't compromise on. Write it down if you have to. Because when the work starts flowing in, it's very easy to slip into "always on" mode and undo everything you set out to achieve.
  4. Build your network before you need it. Talk to people. Go to events. Post online. The work comes from relationships, not job boards. Having a decent network is probably the single most valuable asset you can have. 99.99% of all the projects i've worked on has been word of mouth, or a recommendation from someone i've worked with in the past.
  5. It's okay to have quiet months. They happen. They don't mean you've failed. They mean you've got time to work on your own stuff, create content, learn something new, or just recharge. If anything, get these booked in as a habbit. This is when you grow the most.

The bottom line

Leaving the rat race wasn't just a career decision for me. It was a life decision. I wanted to be more present, more intentional, and more in control of where my time and energy went. And if I'm honest, it's delivered on all of that (even with the bumps along the way).

It's not for everyone. I get that. But if you're sat there wondering whether you could do it... you probably can. The hardest part is making the decision. Everything after that is just figuring it out as you go.

Wouldn't change it for the world though.

If you've made the jump yourself, or you're thinking about it, I'd love to hear about it. Drop a comment or give me a shout on socials 😄

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