Most creatives know this feeling of inner uncertainty. You’re working on a text, a graphic, a video, pushing against your own limits. Eventually the work needs to be finished, but you’re never quite sure when that moment arrives.
You don’t dare. You’re terrified that your piece will be judged too light, too boring, uninteresting. All that time and heart you poured in gets devalued instantly.
It happens far too often — to me as well. I’ve made countless videos that never saw daylight because I lost faith in them. With age, I’m finally breaking free from impostor syndrome. That nagging voice that insists you’re faking everything, about to be exposed as a fraud any moment.
When do you dare?
My digital notes are ultimately an expression of creative catharsis. I write what interests me right now, and I deliberately publish more than I used to. Let readers decide for themselves whether to keep reading or surf elsewhere.
This blog isn’t SEO-optimised, doesn’t fish for eyeballs. It’s a web log in the classic sense.
What does any of this have to do with “constructive humility”? For me, it’s the antidote to impostor syndrome. In that paralysed state, I’m stuck, digging myself deeper. Humility reminds you that you’re dealing with something bigger than yourself.
You cannot stop the waves — but you can learn to surf!
I started surfing recently. The first phase is all about falling and getting back up. Again and again, without getting frustrated. The ego can’t take over here, or I’d end up in the fish and chips shop on the beach instead of in the water.
Instead, you learn humility. You recognise your strengths and weaknesses with each wipeout, watch other surfers with respect as they master the element, keep learning. That’s constructive humility for me.
When I apply this to writing, the constructive element becomes crucial. If you won’t publish something because it’s not 100% perfect (which nobody can judge except you), ask yourself what’s actually missing. And if something is missing — who will notice? Does it really matter?
You’ve already invested far more thinking time than most. You can choose whether to accept other people’s judgements or not. What matters is showing yourself and your work, keeping your agreements with yourself, and continuing forward.
This started life in German on reinergaertner.de, my blog since 1997. The English version was AI-assisted. My German-trained eyes may have missed a few things along the way. She’ll be right.