Do All Artists Fight Imposter Syndrome?
Another exestential POV.
Artists, creators, and writers — especially women, and even more so, mothers — often find themselves drowning in imposter syndrome. No matter how many credentials we have, there's this nagging feeling that we aren't as competent as we seem.
I'll admit it — I love validation, sometimes to a cringeworthy degree. I'll even steer conversations to make myself seem likable or relatable (though less and less lately). I struggle with hard truths and can only handle feedback if I ask for it. And when I realize my portfolio could use some work, I freeze up in a panic, my mind turning to static.
I’m all for growth, but it scares me. When I’m put on a pedestal, I feel like I have to constantly prove I deserve to be there — no shortcuts, no handouts. I’m driven by this need to keep fueling a fire that I can’t let snuff. I push myself relentlessly, afraid that if I stop, I’ll lose momentum. And then, inevitably, I find myself burned out, wondering how I got there.
It's a sobering reality — the more you achieve, the more you have to lose.
Each evening, after a long day of working, writing, creating, crunching numbers, answering emails, cleaning baby spit-up, hiding dark circles with concealer, running the bath, and counterbalancing family time — I take a symbolic shot of whiskey and ask myself a series of tough two-fold questions:
Am I an author or a copywriter?
Am I free, or am I owned?
Am I a photographer or a marketer?
Do I feel proud of my achievements, or am I just crossing off to-do lists?
Am I a good mom for multitasking, or just some half-ass fraud trying to look like I have it all together?
Some days, it’s a, “Hell yeah, I’m an artist, and I love the life I’ve created.” Other days, it’s “You’re a cog in the machine, waiting for that broken yellow light to turn green.”
Focusing on career or financial success is easy because these things are measurable and immediately noticeable. You can quickly tell if you’re ahead of your peers by comparing job titles, salaries, tax brackets, or zip codes. It’s clear where you stand and what steps you need to climb higher.
But career-oriented goals only bring you to a place of comfort, and comfort isn’t the same as fulfillment. It’s easy to see where you stand financially, but it's much harder to answer what truly brings us purpose.
Because I’m being honest, I don’t care that you made $20,000 from that brand deal or that byline you recently published. That isn't what I find most inspiring in an artist or creator, and certainly not within myself.
What matters more is this: When was the last time you told your mom you loved her? Or helped a neighbor? Planted a tree? Are you the kind of person who puts the grocery cart back? Or do you make up flimsy excuses to skip out on important events?
Rethink what matters.
It’s Hard to Put Yourself Out There
In college, I could never call myself a photographer, even though that’s how I made most of my money. I shot for small brands, publications, weddings, and family portraits — anything to fund my next plane ticket and cross a new country off my bucket list.
Even now, I flinch when introducing myself. Every creator knows that feeling—the vulnerability of sharing your work, like taking a gut punch that leaves you exposed. It's deeply personal, opening yourself up to judgment, especially when your work feels unfinished or unworthy of being taken seriously.
When I first shared my pregnancy last October, I did it through a long post on Substack — my debut. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and strangely numbing all at once. I softened the blow of announcing my creative journey with a pregnancy reveal. After all, a pregnancy feels more legitimate than saying, "Hey, I started a blog! Check it out! Please subscribe!"
It’s the same reason I cringe at stand-up comedians without a following or people singing at open mics. It’s not them — I’m recoiling at the thought of someone putting themselves out there, risking embarrassment. I wrestle with that same insecurity in my own work, even after a decade of accomplishments that, on paper, should prove my worth.
Why is it so hard for us to be kind to artists? To be kind to each other? To ourselves? Is it a symptom of curated media and algorithms warping our sense of value? Or are we just confused adults, having lost our sense of childlike wonder, creating only because it’s now our job?
Climbing the Maternal Wall and Breaking the Glass Ceiling
I’m sitting here six months postpartum, so forgive me if I believe that working mothers are on the most unstable edge of this identity struggle.
I’ve already been turned down for shoots or projects because I have a baby at home. I’ve been told, “Don’t worry, you can stay home with your family,” as if that’s some relief. But how do I politely explain that traveling, shooting, and storytelling make me a better person — and, by extension, a better mom? The fulfillment and financial reward I get from these projects aren’t just nice; they’re essential. Take me with you — I’m ready!
Regarding mothers, the workplace often sees a trade-off between competence and warmth. Our workload is reduced, not because we ask for it, but because our caregiving roles are viewed as a hindrance, not a testament to our multitasking ability. This is the maternal wall bias, and it’s one of the main reasons women don’t advance into leadership roles — or worse, are pushed out of them.
[For those who know me personally, I’m not referring to my incredible team at Moment, but rather a few other side projects and the general attitude I've personally received.]
As a perfectionist striving to master my craft, I face the uphill challenge of proving my worth and work ethic, especially around my childless or male peers. It’s an exhausting performance that many people can’t maintain without family support.
Ways I Combat This Feeling
Honestly, feeling like a fraud can sometimes be a good thing. While frustrating and emotionally draining, it brings humility that pushes you to improve. But there’s a fine line between staying humble and succumbing to self-sabotage. When your thoughts become overly critical, it's crucial to rewire.
Practice Gratitude
Gratitude can feel cliché, especially when you’re stuck in a cycle of self-criticism, but hear me out: you’re feeling self-hate often because you’ve lost sight of gratitude and self-awareness. Start your day by thinking of three things you love about your life. Now, imagine if those things disappeared tomorrow — how would you feel? Recognizing that privilege might shift your mindset.
Write It All Out
Writing is cheaper than therapy. You don’t need a fancy notebook; use the Notes app on your phone to dump all your thoughts. Don’t worry about grammar or spelling — write like you’re venting to a friend who won’t judge. Five minutes of free writing can do wonders for releasing those inner demons, and when you look back later, you might laugh at how dramatic you were.
Invest In Yourself
If you feel like you’re falling behind your peers, take it as a cue to learn more. Invest in online courses, watch masterclasses, read books, take workshops, dive into YouTube tutorials, or listen to podcasts from people you admire in your field. Gaining their insights can help you realize you’re not so alone in your introspections.
Create Something & Don’t Share It
For creatives who regularly share their work online, try making something just for yourself. No audience, no pressure — just for the joy of creating. This is one of the best things about being a parent: you get to tap back into that childhood freedom of playing pretend, where it doesn’t matter who’s watching. Scribble, paint, write, or read a book simply because it feels good. There’s no need for feedback.
Self-Assignments
One of my favorite pieces of advice for anyone stuck in a rut: make your own assignments! How can you expect clients or your audience to care if you’re not creating the kind of work you want to be known for?
Keep Your Promises
Confidence comes from keeping the promises you make to yourself.
Breathe poetry and see life in technicolor. If you’re an artist, make art, and that's it. Keep moving forward.
My favorite part about tomorrow is that it's always just 8 hours away. It takes courage to pick up where you left off, but imagine where you could be a year from now — if you just started today.
“Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.”
― Alan Wilson Watts
Needed this today & will be revisiting often. Thank you for your words 🫶🏻