I was having coffee with another freelance designer last week when they started telling me about their latest project drama. Not client drama, the self inflicted kind.

The kind where you find yourself still up at 2am, obsessing over the information architecture for a checkout flow that was probably fine three hours earlier, while simultaneously eating Shreddies directly from the box and wondering how your life became this specific brand of chaos.

Their client wasn't chasing them. They hadn't even opened their last message. No one was breathing down their neck, demanding perfection by dawn.

But the pressure was coming from inside the house. And it sounded uncomfortably familiar; like my own early freelance days when I'd spend entire weekends building prototypes "just to be thorough" and then watch clients pick out one small feature and ignore the rest.

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Listening to their story reminded me of a tendency I've had my whole life (even before freelancing) to turn every straightforward job into some sort of performance. Like I was constantly auditioning to be the kind of person I thought they wanted, rather than just being the one they hired. It's something I've had to work quite hard on over the years.

The symptoms were often the same. I'd find myself...

Refining and over-engineering prototypes that are already good enough for testing

Exploring three different directions for one simple flow, "just to give them options"

Apologising for not replying the same day to feedback that's both vague and three days late

Adding user journeys they haven't asked for, because surely they'll appreciate seeing "the big picture"

My personal favourite example: spending an entire evening creating a full set of beautifully polished sitemaps that no one had requested, convinced they'd be delighted by my initiative.

They were not delighted. They were confused about why I'd spent time on something they didn't need, and slightly annoyed that I'd made their simple project feel more complicated than it was.

I'd over-served. Not in terms of skill or experience, just in posture. Like I was still trying to get the job rather than doing it.

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I've always been a bit of a recovering perfectionist. The sort who rewrites the same paragraph seventeen times and still thinks it's not quite right. In those early freelance days, it was partly genuine care for the work, partly excellent procrastination technique, and partly something else that took me a while to spot.

When you're new to charging a proper day rate, there's this underlying pressure to feel worth it. To be visibly smarter, faster, more insightful than the client's internal team. To justify why they're paying consultant money for work that someone permanent could theoretically do.

But here's what I've slowly learned over the years: you're often not in the same budget line as the permanent team. They haven't hired you instead of someone internal. They've hired you because they needed someone different. Someone outside. Temporary. Capable. Calm.

You're not in competition with the permanent team. Not really.

The dog (who's watched these performances with the weary patience of someone who's seen it all before) puts it more bluntly: "They already decided you're worth what they're paying. Stop trying to convince them."

Fair point, Rory. Fair point.

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The alternative isn't slacking off or quietly padding your hours with artisanal coffee breaks. It's about recognising when your standards have turned into a trap.

These days, I try to catch myself when I slip back into this pattern. When "going the extra mile" is actually a form of fear: that if I don't over-deliver, I might not be asked back. That I'll be found out, or replaced, or quietly ghosted.

Sometimes, sure, the bar does need raising. You want to stretch a bit, show what you can do, leave them with something unexpectedly good.

But more often — especially early in a project — what's needed isn't performance. It's understanding. Listening. Figuring out where you actually fit in their process, rather than where you think you should fit.

Not every gig needs dazzling. Sometimes they just need steady hands. Or low drama. Or someone who actually reads the brief properly the first time.

The over-delivery can come later, if it's genuinely needed. But it should come from insight, not insecurity.

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The client hired you for a reason that wasn't "please make this unnecessarily complicated." They probably want their project to feel manageable, not like they've accidentally commissioned the Sistine Chapel when they asked for a simple landing page refresh.

Let the work breathe. Let them come to you with what they actually need, rather than what you think they should need. Send it when it's ready, not when your doubt tells you to add just one more thing.

It took me a few years to properly believe this, but: you're already worth what you're charging. The hard part isn't proving it, it's trusting it from the start.

— Tom