Getting Out of My Own Way: A Day of Almost Giving Up

Getting Out of My Own Way: A Day of Almost Giving Up

The ideas are there.

The desire to create exists.

The will to start… gone.

That’s been the theme running through my head lately. It’s wild how creativity can feel like a faucet—one day it’s flowing, the next it’s rusted shut. And the most frustrating part is knowing the inspiration is in there somewhere, but the bridge between imagination and action feels impossibly long.

So I’ve been working on getting out of my own way. Working on accepting that what I create might not match the perfect vision living in my head. Working on trusting that whatever does come out is still mine—and that alone makes it worth celebrating.

And honestly, that last part is something every creative needs to hear.

Whether you’re behind a camera, in front of a canvas, kneading dough, shaping wood, dancing, singing, writing, or doing anything that requires you to pull something from nothing… it’s all art. It’s all creation. It’s all a beautiful extension of you. The world doesn’t get to decide whether it’s “good enough.” The act of making it already makes it meaningful.

But today… today was a test.

I went out shooting, hoping to shake off the creative fog. (it was super hard to not write Shake It Off, and start singing) At first, it was rough. Every frame felt wrong. Every idea felt flat. I kept thinking, Why did I even bother coming out here? That little voice—the one that loves to whisper “just give up”—was getting louder by the minute.

For a moment, I almost listened.

But here’s the thing: starting is the hardest part.

Not the editing.

Not the planning.

Not the execution.

Just… starting.

So I stayed. I kept shooting. I let myself be uncomfortable. I let the frustration sit beside me instead of steering the wheel. Somewhere in that messy middle, something shifted. Not magically, not dramatically—just enough. Enough to remind me that creativity doesn’t always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes it shows up quietly, after you’ve already convinced yourself it won’t.

By the end of the day, I had images I was proud of—not because they were perfect, but because they existed. Because I made them. Because I didn’t walk away.

Celebrate that. Celebrate you.

Every time you push through the resistance, you’re doing something brave. Every time you create something that didn’t exist yesterday, you’re expanding the world in a way only you can. Every time you silence the doubt long enough to take one step—just one—you’re proving that your art matters.

So celebrate the moments you got out of your own head. Celebrate the times you threw caution to the wind and let your art guide you somewhere unexpected. Celebrate the imperfect, the experimental, the “not quite what I pictured but still mine.”

Because that’s where growth lives. That’s where joy hides. That’s where the real magic of being a creative person happens.

And today, I found a little bit of that magic again. Not because everything went right, but because I didn’t quit when everything felt wrong.