Starting something new automatically means stepping into uncertainty and risking imperfection. It means making yourself visible. It’s vulnerable, and it forces you to be open to both rejection and reward. With the overwhelming mix of emotions in play, it’s no wonder so many people never make it past the starting line. 

Impostor syndrome doesn’t care about your resume, your accomplishments, or your intentions. It sneaks in quietly and asks, “Who do you think you are?” It whispers doubts, second-guesses your abilities, and casts shadows over your successes.

But here’s the truth: your voice is already valid.

Impostor syndrome whispers that your voice doesn’t matter, that you’re unworthy of visibility, that you are not the expert others believe you to be. But here’s the truth: You cannot be an impostor of your own life.

If you wait until things are perfect, you’ll be waiting the rest of your life. That feeling of readiness is never coming. The only way out is to start where you are. To start messy. To start now.

We’ve been sold a lie about the creative process—that it should be clean, predictable, and effortless. But the truth is much wilder, much messier than we could ever know. Creativity, like nature itself, is turbulent, untamable, and full of contradictions. 

Being human means living in constant evolution—a perpetual unfolding that only ceases the day we die. This means we'll never feel fully self-expressed, at least not how we imagine. Every day, we wake up in the correct configuration—scientifically, spiritually, and existentially—even if it doesn’t feel that way. Whatever we are, right now, is what’s right for right now. But what if we still want more?