The Art of Self-Trust: How to Believe in Your Vision When No One Else Does

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about self-trust. It keeps coming up in conversations with other artists. It keeps coming up in my own studio. It even shows up when I am walking through a gallery or scrolling through someone’s new project launch. And the more I notice it, the more I realize how central it is to creative life. It sounds so basic. Trust yourself. Trust your ideas. Trust your gut. But when you’re the only one who can see what you’re building, when you’re putting in long hours and getting very little external validation...well, let’s just say it’s easier said than done.

I think a lot of us underestimate just how much trust it takes to be an artist in the first place. To make anything at all. To believe that an idea you had at midnight or on your third cup of coffee is worth taking seriously. To follow it through rough drafts and bad sketches and work that looks absolutely nothing like you imagined. To keep going even when it feels like you’re the only one who can hear the thing calling out to be made.

I wanted to talk about that today because I think building your self-trust is one of the most important skills you can work on as a creative person. And it’s not magic. It’s not something you either have or don’t. It’s something you can practice. Just like learning to draw. Just like learning to paint. Just like learning to price your work or talk about it at an opening. It’s a skill. And the more you use it, the stronger it gets.

When I was younger, I used to think that if an idea was good enough, it would come with some kind of built-in certainty. That I would just know. That it would be so clear and strong that I wouldn’t even have doubts about it. But that’s not how it works. Every project I’ve ever done, every painting, every big creative leap has come with some degree of doubt. Sometimes a lot of doubt. The difference is not that the doubt went away. It’s that I learned to keep going anyway.

One of the biggest things that helped me was shifting my mindset from thinking “I have to be sure this will work” to “I’m going to trust myself enough to find out.” That tiny shift changed everything. Because no one can promise you your idea will work. No one can promise you people will like it. No one can promise it will sell. But you can promise yourself that you will stay with it long enough to give it a real shot. You can promise yourself that you’ll listen. You’ll show up. You’ll work with it. And honestly? That’s the kind of trust that matters most.

A few things that helped me build stronger self-trust in my own creative life (and maybe they’ll help you too):

First, start noticing when you do already trust yourself. It’s easy to miss. You trusted yourself enough to start painting. You trusted yourself enough to sign up for that show. You trusted yourself enough to take that art class, or set up an Etsy shop, or send your work out into the world in whatever way you have. Those are not small things. They are huge. Give yourself credit for them.

Second, pay attention to the little nudges. Sometimes self-trust shows up not as a loud voice but as a whisper. That little tug when you see a color you want to paint with. That little spark when you think of a weird new project idea. Those tiny instincts matter. And the more you practice following them, even on small things, the more you start to trust them on bigger ones.

Third, make time for your own ideas to breathe. I cannot overstate how important this is. It is really hard to hear your own voice when you’re constantly bombarded by everyone else’s. It’s hard to trust your instincts when you’re seeing a hundred curated Instagram posts an hour. You don’t have to quit social media entirely if you don’t want to. But carving out some quiet time where it’s just you and your work is essential. Even just thirty minutes. Even just once a week. Give your ideas a little room without other people's voices crowding in.

Fourth, get comfortable with being misunderstood. This is one of the hardest things. Especially early on. Especially when you care deeply about what you’re making. Not everyone is going to get it. Some people won’t like your work. Some people will love it. Some people will be indifferent. That’s normal. It doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It doesn’t mean your idea isn’t worth pursuing. It just means you’re doing something real enough to make people have opinions about it.

I remember the first time I showed a body of work that felt really personal. I thought people would either love it or hate it. Most people didn’t say anything. A few people seemed confused by it. And one person quietly told me afterward that it made them think about their own life in a way they hadn’t in a long time. That one comment meant everything. But it took getting through all the blank stares to get to it. And if I had based my sense of worth on the reactions in the room, I would have never made it to that moment.

Here’s another thing that helps: set small promises to yourself and keep them. Not for anyone else. Not for validation. But for you. Make a promise that you’ll sketch every Sunday morning. Or that you’ll finish that small project by next month. Or that you’ll apply to that show you’ve been thinking about. Keeping promises to yourself builds trust. It teaches you that you are someone you can count on. And that feeling carries over into your bigger creative risks too.

You don’t have to have unshakable confidence every minute of the day to trust yourself. Honestly, I don’t think anyone does. What matters is that when you hit those moments of doubt, you know how to keep going. You know how to stay with yourself. You know how to come back to the reason you started in the first place.

Sometimes when I am in the middle of a hard project, I’ll sit down and write a letter to myself. Nothing formal. Just a note, like a check-in. I’ll remind myself why I cared about this idea. I’ll tell myself it’s okay to be scared. I’ll remind myself that hard doesn’t mean wrong. It just means I’m doing something that matters to me. I’ll remind myself that I don’t need anyone else to see it yet. That my job right now is just to stay with it.

Other times, when I feel completely stuck, I will go back and look at old sketchbooks. Not because the work is good. A lot of it isn’t. But because it reminds me that I’ve been here before. That every creative project has messy middle parts. That I have navigated uncertainty before and I can do it again.

There’s also something to be said for building a small circle of people who do get it. People who know what it’s like to make work without guarantees. People who understand that early drafts are messy. People who cheer you on not because the work is perfect, but because you’re in it. These people are gold. If you don’t have them yet, it’s okay. Sometimes it takes a while to find your creative people. But even one or two can make a world of difference.

At the end of the day, trusting yourself is not about always being sure you’re right. It’s about being willing to find out. It’s about being willing to stay curious. It’s about being willing to listen to that small quiet voice inside you even when the outside voices are loud. Your vision is yours for a reason. No one else can see exactly what you see. No one else can hear it the way you hear it. That doesn’t make it less valuable. It makes it more.

So if you’re in that place right now, where it feels like no one else gets it, where it feels like you’re carrying something fragile and uncertain and real...know that you’re not alone. Know that it’s okay to protect it for a while. Know that it’s okay to believe in it even if no one else does yet.

And if you want a few action steps to help build that trust muscle even more:

• Keep a sketchbook or journal just for yourself. No pressure. No audience. Just a place to follow your ideas.

• Make tiny experiments with your work that don’t have to succeed. Try a new medium. Try a new technique. Let yourself mess around.

• Practice telling yourself, "I don’t know how this will turn out, but I trust myself to figure it out."

• Celebrate following through, not just finishing. Notice when you stick with something even when it’s hard.

• Give yourself permission to move slowly. Self-trust isn’t a race. It’s something you build over time, layer by layer.

• Remember that doubt does not mean stop. Doubt just means you’re stretching.

You are allowed to believe in your work even before it’s polished. You are allowed to stand by your instincts even when they are still forming. You are allowed to make things that feel risky, that feel tender, that feel a little too close to your heart. That’s where the real art lives. I’m rooting for you. And more importantly, I hope you’re rooting for yourself too.