As artists, we know the joy and excitement of creating, the satisfaction of expressing ourselves through our art, and the deep sense of purpose that comes with following our passion. But alongside these positive feelings, there's often a quiet voice that questions our abilities, our right to call ourselves "artists," and the value of our work.

As an artist, you know the feeling all too well. You're scrolling through your social media feed, admiring the stunning works of your peers, when suddenly, a sinking sensation takes hold of your chest. You start to question your own abilities, wondering if you'll ever be able to create something as beautiful, as impactful, as recognized as the art you see before you.

As a shy, introverted artist, the mere thought of networking used to fill me with dread. Just imagining myself making small talk at a crowded art networking event or pitching my artwork to potential collectors made my heart race with anxiety.

Maybe you can relate?

As an artist, I know firsthand the rollercoaster of emotions that comes with the creative process. One moment you're riding high on inspiration and the next, you're drowning in self-doubt and anxiety. The life of an artist is a constant ebb and flow between feeling supremely confident in your work and utterly lost in the depths of artistic struggle.

For years, the weight of my traumatic childhood crushed my spirit. I felt trapped by my family's dysfunctional dynamics and the expectations they placed on me. As an introverted, shy child, I desperately longed for positive change but didn't know how to break free from the turmoil surrounding me. Deep down, I knew there had to be more to life than merely being a powerless bystander in my own story.

Growing up, I always knew I had a passion for art. From doodling in the margins of my school notebooks to spending hours lost in the world of colors and shapes, creating art was my refuge, my sanctuary. But when I mustered the courage to share my dreams of becoming an artist with my family, I was met with skepticism and disapproval.

In those quiet moments when you're faced with a blank canvas or an empty page, do you ever doubt yourself? Does that little voice inside your head start whispering, telling you that you're not good enough or that your art doesn't matter? As women of faith who are also artists, it's not uncommon to wrestle with these feelings of self-doubt. But here's something important to remember: you are worthy of your calling.

I recently made a bold decision that, at first glance, may seem unrelated to my life as an artist. I cut my hair. It wasn't a spontaneous decision fueled by a sudden burst of courage; it came after months of dealing with postpartum shedding that refused to resolve itself. I'll admit, the prospect of chopping off my locs filled me with nerves.

Each time I stepped out of my comfort zone, I shed a layer of doubt. Like a caterpillar breaking free from its cocoon, I wanted to spread my wings and explore. It was about tearing down the walls I built around myself and embracing my true potential.

I used to feel shy and anxious in social settings, worrying about how my art would be received. But then, a shift occurred. I chose to step beyond my comfort zone and embrace my introverted nature.

Motherhood is an amazing journey filled with love, joy, and life-changing moments. But it also comes with its own set of challenges. As a new mom, I've been figuring things out as I go, trying to find balance in the middle of all the chaos.

As an artist, stay-at-home mom, and entrepreneur building my art business, I know firsthand how challenging it can be to juggle multiple responsibilities and obligations.