I’ve been stuck in my head lately.
Not in a dramatic, shout-into-the-void kind of way. More like a quiet loop. A soft, anxious cycle that starts with an idea—sometimes even the energy to film—but ends with second-guessing everything.
It’s strange how often creativity begins with freedom but ends in fear.
Should I Post This?
That question haunts more creators than we admit. Not because the content isn’t good. Not because it doesn’t matter. But because we’ve been conditioned to weigh everything by how it’s received.
I ask myself:
What will my job think?
What will my community think?
What if this isn’t “on brand”?
What if no one watches?
It’s not just about the work. It’s about the cost of putting the work out there.
Dancing With Doubt
There’s a saying I’ve heard: Stick with the one that brought you to the dance.
And you know what’s wild? For me, the very skill that’s helped me connect with people—the storytelling, the editing, the camera work, the ability to capture quiet beauty—is now the thing I hesitate to share.
How does that even happen?
How do you end up afraid of the thing you’re good at?
The Worst Censorship Is Internal
No one told me not to post.
No one banned me, silenced me, or unfollowed me for being honest.
But somewhere along the line, I started doing it to myself. Filtering my own ideas. Holding back footage I loved. Watching videos die in Final Cut because I assumed they weren’t good enough—because they might not get views.
Let me say this plainly: The biggest limitations are usually the ones we place on ourselves. Quietly. Subconsciously. With good intentions. But they still choke the creative process.
The Views Trap
Even now, as I edit this video, I’m overthinking.
I’m wondering what will happen if the views are low. Will I take that personally? Will I feel like I failed?
It’s ridiculous. But it’s real.
Every creator says, “Don’t chase numbers,” and we all mean it… until we’re staring at the analytics, watching a project we cared about disappear into the void.
It’s not that we want to go viral. We just want our work to matter.
The Video Still Exists
Here’s the part I keep coming back to.
Even if no one watches, the video still exists.
Even if it flops, it’s still honest.
Even if it doesn’t trend, it’s still art.
I filmed it. I edited it. I stood in the middle of London, throwing stones into ponds, trying to get out of my own head.
Maybe that’s enough.
Maybe that has to be enough.
Because the alternative is silence. And silence isn’t peace—it’s paralysis.
If You’re Stuck, You’re Not Alone
If you’re a creator—or even just a person with a dream—you’ve probably felt this too.
The second-guessing. The fear. The quiet self-sabotage that disguises itself as “being sensible.”
But you’re not crazy for feeling this. You’re not weak for hesitating. You’re human.
And honestly? Sometimes just finishing the project and pressing publish is the win.
Not for the views.
Not for the validation.
But because you did it.
You moved through the doubt. You told the story. You threw the rock—and let the ripples speak for themselves.
