Building a Dream While Drowning in Doubt

When I stepped into photography, it felt like falling in love.
The way light wraps around a moment.
The quiet satisfaction of nailing a shot.
The hours spent editing until it feels right.
The pure joy when a client loves what you created.

Those moments are magic. They’re the reason I do this. They light me up from the inside out.

But what no one really talks about is everything else.

The in-between moments.
The self-doubt that creeps in like fog.
The endless scrolling through other photographers' feeds, wondering if I’m even good enough.
The comparison. The pressure. The fear that I’m falling behind in an industry that never slows down.

There have been days where I’ve questioned everything. Where I’ve felt small, discouraged, and honestly, a little embarrassed for trying to make a name for myself in a world so saturated with talent and perfection. One minute you're inspired, the next you're completely consumed by imposter syndrome and trends you can't keep up with.

Meanwhile, I’m over here with my loyal tribe of 100-something Instagram followers—
Every single one earned the old-fashioned way: no bots, not paying for likes or followers, just sheer persistence, trial-and-error captions, and hashtags that may or may not be doing anything.
And you know what? That’s something I’m proud of.

I might not be viral, but I’m real.

Something I didn’t expect—something no one warns you about—is how the people you thought would be your biggest cheerleaders… often aren’t. I’ve watched other photographers’ families and friends flood their work with comments, shout them out, share every post, proudly promote their journey. And honestly? I love to see that kind of support.
But sometimes, the envy stings.
Maybe my expectations are too high? Maybe people show love in quieter ways.? But there have been moments I’ve felt painfully unseen by the people I assumed would be in my corner the loudest.
So I’ve had to learn something that’s changed me:
I clap for myself now.
I celebrate every booking, every edit that makes me feel something, every photo that whispers, you’re getting better. I back myself when it’s quiet. I validate my own dream, because waiting for permission or applause from others is a guaranteed way to stay stuck.

Through all the swirling doubts and quiet victories, there’s one person whose cheer is unmistakable — my husband. He’s my biggest fan, clapping for me louder than the noise of doubt ever could. When the world feels heavy, his belief in me is the soundtrack that keeps me moving forward.

Still, the inner battle doesn’t disappear. I’m constantly trying to build my confidence, trust my instincts, and show up for my art even when I feel like crawling into a hole and letting the algorithm bury me alive. I'm learning—slowly—that success isn't always loud. It isn't always likes or bookings or praise. Sometimes success looks like choosing to keep going when you want to give up. Choosing to believe in yourself even when your inner critic is screaming.

Art doesn’t need to be loud to be powerful.
Presence doesn’t have to look like popularity.
And your lens—your perspective—is entirely your own.

This is the part no one sees.
The messy, emotional, soul-growing part.

And if you're in it too—whatever your craft is—just know you're not alone.
This is still the beginning for me. But I’m proud of the heart I'm leading with. I’ll keep showing up, one photo, one post, one quiet win at a time.

Thank you to the people who’ve supported me already. You’re the reason I keep going.

The dream’s still alive—even when doubt tries to drown it.