This is something I’ve carried quietly for a long time. And maybe I’ve been afraid to say it out loud, afraid it would sound like I’m complaining, or that someone might think my art isn’t strong enough, so I’m overcompensating with words.
But the truth is, I’m just sharing what’s real for me. I’m not writing this for applause or agreement. I’m writing it for anyone who’s ever doubted themselves, who’s felt like they didn’t quite belong in a space they love. Especially the quiet ones. Especially the mothers. Especially those whose work comes from a place so personal, it sometimes hurts to share it.
It was worth saying if this resonates with even one of you.
With gentleness, from my heart to yours, here’s a note I needed to write.
I almost didn’t share this.
Fear and self-doubt told me not to. They always do. They don’t knock. They just enter. Especially when I’m about to share something close to my heart, a photograph, a journal entry, a piece of my truth. Just when I’m one breath away from pressing “post,” they whisper, It’s not good enough. You’re not good enough. And I hesitate.
They show up when kind words come my way, too. Instead of saying thank you, I pull away, thinking, They probably say that to everyone. They creep in when I get excited about my dreams, starting a workshop, writing a book, helping other mothers see the quiet beauty in their everyday. And then suddenly, I freeze. Who am I to do this?
I used to believe it was just me who felt this way. But now I know—so much of this fear was planted early. We grow up in a world that tells us, subtly, consistently, that our worth is tied to how we look, how we perform, how perfectly we present ourselves. The prettier girl gets the spotlight. The popular one gets the praise. The louder ones are heard. The richer ones are celebrated.
Even in the photography world I love, I see it: men are often called brilliant, visionary, game-changing. While women, especially mothers, are described as lovely, sweet, and emotional. As though our strength, skill, and depth are somehow softer, smaller.
Psychologists call it internalized worthlessness—when the world’s impossible standards start shaping how we see ourselves. I’m still unlearning it. Still reminding myself that fear is a liar. That self-doubt is just a shadow, it only grows when I turn away from my light.
So now, I try to show up even when I don’t feel ready. I lean on my faith when confidence goes quiet. I remind myself that I don’t have to be fearless to create, I just need to be faithful. I shoot even when I’m unsure. I share even when my voice shakes. Because this gift I carry, it was never random. It was placed in me with purpose.
Maybe showing up scared is still showing up brave. And maybe that’s enough.
If fear and self-doubt have made a home in your heart too, know this: you are not alone. I’m walking this path with you. One quiet frame at a time. One small, brave moment at a time.
And I end with this prayer:
Ya Allah, soften the voice of fear inside me. Quiet the doubt that tells me I’m not enough. Remind me that what You’ve placed in me is worthy, even when the world makes me forget. Let me create from a place of trust, not comparison. And when I feel afraid to share, let me remember that courage doesn’t always roar, sometimes, it’s just showing up with sincerity and heart. Ameen.
