I end the day exhausted.

For days, I’d been tirelessly working on my blog—fine-tuning details, writing, rewriting, making sure it looked and felt right. And when I finally launched it on social media, a rush of old, familiar worries crept in.

• What if I poured all this effort into something no one will even check out?
• What if I lose my interest in writing after a few months? What if this is just another one of those hobbies that I’ll eventually outgrow once it gets hard?
• What if no one really needs to hear what I have to say?

These thoughts tend to ambush me when I shift gears or start something new. I’m my harshest critic—and that’s always been the case.

Maybe that’s why I felt extra exhausted tonight.

After making a few more tweaks here and there, I remembered that, two years ago, I stumbled across Chelli Look on Youtube. Her video on encouragement for creatives marked me. It was from that point on that I began to unlearn the habit of self-sabotage and started practicing a little more grace toward myself.

To express yourself freely in art, you have to accept your flaws. You have to be okay with making messy, imperfect first drafts—sometimes too many of them—before arriving at anything remotely resembling a masterpiece.

To express yourself freely in art, you have to accept your flaws.

Seth gently pointed out something to me too. He said that whenever I start a new venture, I tend to go full-force, wanting to do as much as I can, as quickly as I can—expecting growth almost instantly. And more often than not, that leaves me burnt out.

He’s right, of course. But I told him my side too—that I’m afraid of losing steam if I don’t ride this burst of energy while it’s here. I’ve always had a short attention span when it comes to hobbies. Still, I admit it: I’ve been an impatient artist. And it’s cost me more than I realize.

A good artist, I think, is someone who’s learned to be patient. I obviously have a long way to go. And isn’t it funny, in a way, how you even have to be patient with becoming patient?

So tonight, I paused. I gave myself a break from creating and started receiving again. I revisited Chelli Look’s words and let the Godly truth of her reminders wash over me:

That my voice is unique.

That I have a way of expressing thoughts and stories no one else can.

That my words matter.

That I was created by a wise, loving Creator.

I might ramble on about this for a while, but I pray that whoever reads this will be patient with my process. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll witness me slowly overcoming this.

“Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”

Philippians 4:8 (KJV)