For every creative who’s felt like an imposter, hesitated to share their work, or questioned their worth—this is a reminder that you are still worth hearing, even when your voice shakes.
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I started this blog back in 2021 mainly so I could finally call myself a writer and have something to back it up. At first, it was just that: proof. But over time, it became something way more meaningful. It turned into an outlet, a safe space where I could be honest about the real stuff; the mental health struggles, the setbacks, and the mess.
I’ve been creating for as long as I can remember… scribbling short stories, abandoning half-finished novels, filling journals with thoughts no one would ever see. But for years, the idea of letting someone actually read my writing? Terrifying. Starting this blog was, and still is, a big leap outside my comfort zone.
If there’s one thing that’s been consistent about my blog over the years, it’s how inconsistent I’ve been with it.
Some seasons, I’m in flow- writing regularly, ideas coming faster than I can type. In those moments, I’m certain this is what I was meant to do; convinced I was born for this. I’m reading old posts like, “Wait a minute… I wrote this?!” and genuinely believing I’m the next great voice in modern literature (or at the very least, a decent writer with something real to say). Then, out of nowhere, doubt creeps in wearing a very convincing disguise. Suddenly, I’m questioning everything: Is this even worth it? Am I smart enough? Interesting enough?
I begin to spiral. I absolutely lose my mind. Just for the doubt to vanish as quickly as it arrived. Like it never existed.
This cycle has been playing on loop for years. It’s like I’m constantly swinging between self-doubt and creative euphoria, never quite able to land in the middle. And honestly, it’s exhausting.
Here’s what I know deep down, and I mean the kind of knowing that lives in your gut, not just your head: I’m talented. I’m a good writer. Not in a braggy kind of way, but in a “people have told me their perspective shifted after reading something I wrote” kind of way. A “someone once said my blog helped them feel less alone” kind of way.
What’s wild, (and borderline unfair) is how often we’re the ones holding ourselves back. You could be sitting in a room full of love and encouragement, and still let one whisper of self-doubt drown it all out. That’s the trap of imposter syndrome. You could be doing everything right and still feel like a fraud; have overflowing proof that you’re capable, and your brain still finds a way to question it.
Creatives carry vulnerability like a second skin. To stand out is to be seen and seeing means stripping away every mask. Your work is you on full display. You want to be seen, yet are scared of the spotlight; you’d rather complain about hiding in the shadows than risk standing tall and being invisible. That is the battle that keeps me, and so many others stuck. But at what cost?
I know I cannot be everyone’s cup of tea. I know no matter what, someone will have something to say whether it is praise or criticism. I am painfully aware of how much I am holding myself back with these irrational fears. And yet the fear of not being good enough stands toe to toe with the truth that I will not grow by shrinking myself smaller.
I’m realizing it’s not about getting it perfect. It’s about staying in it. Showing up, even when the self-doubt is screaming; fighting fear: fear to be who you are loudly, share what you love, and embrace the unknown.
Scrolling through social media, it’s easy to romanticize the “what if.” What if that was my life? But it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I actually dared to ask myself the next question: why can’t it be?
It’s not supposed to be easy finding space in this world. We’ll forever be met with obstacles and setbacks that derail us, if only even for a second. It takes guts, grit, and a stubborn streak to keep going, especially on the rough days. Those irrational fears and doubts? They come with the territory. After all, we’re human. We have bad days, months, years. We have insecurities and hidden fears that require a lot of self-reflection. The real progress happens when you keep moving forward, flaws and all, one step at a time.
To all the creatives out there feeling small, lost, or scared—here’s something to chew on. I don’t have a magic fix for shutting down those negative thoughts. I can’t just tell you to “let it go,” “think positive,” or “stop caring” because honestly, those phrases don’t do much. If you can’t beat the fear, learn to work with it. Let it be the fuel that pushes you forward, not the weight that holds you back.
Fear doesn’t always show up as panic or loud anxiety, sometimes it’s quiet. It whispers things like “you’re not ready,” “someone else has already done this,” or “what if it’s not good enough?” And if you listen too long, you’ll start to believe it. You’ll sit on your ideas. You’ll hesitate before starting. You’ll shrink before you even take up space.
But here’s the truth: fear doesn’t mean you’re not meant for this. It means you care. It means your work matters enough to scare you. And the only way to move through it… is to keep creating anyway.
Creativity doesn’t need your confidence; it needs your commitment. Show up shaky. Make art with your hands trembling. Write the first draft knowing it might suck. Paint, build, film, speak- whatever your craft is, believe in it enough to do it scared.
Because the magic isn’t in waiting until you’re fearless. It’s in creating despite the fear. That’s when something real unlocks. That’s when your voice starts to sound like you. Not polished. Not perfect. But honest, and powerful in a way fear could never be.
You don’t need permission to create. You just need courage to begin, and the belief that what lives inside you is worth bringing to life.
Building with shaky hands, is still building.
