✨Learning to Trust Yourself as an Artist (Even When It Feels Impossible)

There’s a quiet ache I’ve noticed many creatives carry.

A subtle but persistent feeling that what we’re doing isn’t real art. That it’s not worthy unless it’s slow, serious, or technically impressive.

That ease must mean we’re doing it wrong.

If you’ve ever felt that way, I want to tell you:
You’re not alone. And it’s not true.

I’ve been on a long and winding creative path. I once studied and worked in a field where precision was everything, where it took a decade of study just to be “allowed” to begin. That kind of training gets deep into your bones.

It teaches you that worth is earned through sacrifice, knowledge, and effort.

So when I stepped into a more intuitive, expressive style of art- fast marks, textured layers, splatters, lines that made me feel something- I was shocked at how loud the self-doubt became.

“Who am I to create like this?”
“Shouldn’t it take more time, more effort, more… legitimacy?”

Even after making work I loved...

Even after sharing pieces that deeply resonated with others...

That inner voice still whispered: This isn’t enough. You’re not enough.

It’s a strange kind of struggle, isn’t it? To want so badly to create from a place of joy and freedom… while still feeling tethered to invisible rules you never agreed to in the first place.

But here’s what I’m starting to believe:

Art doesn’t have to be hard to be meaningful.
Joy doesn’t have to be justified.
And the urge to create, even if it’s spontaneous, emotional, messy, or fast, is evidence enough that something worthy is trying to come through you.

You don’t need permission to call yourself an artist.
You don’t need decades of practice to make something beautiful.
You don’t need to feel confident to begin, you just need to begin anyway.

I’ve also come to realize that so many others feel this same internal friction, but few people talk about it. Especially in spaces where art is supposed to be lighthearted or “just for fun,” we don’t always have room for the deeper conversation about what it means to trust ourselves to show up with our whole hearts, and to let go of the belief that ease means we’re cheating.

If you’ve felt this way too… I see you.
You’re not too much.
You’re not too late.
And your art is not an accident.

This season, I’m learning to slow down and listen.

Not to my inner critic, but to the quieter, wiser voice underneath it.

The one that says:
“What if this gets to be enough?”
“What if this gets to be art?”

Maybe you’re there too.