Called & Terrified

On Imposter Syndrome and Answering the Call Anyway

Some days, I feel like I’m being called to do something important and the next moment, I feel like disappearing.

That’s the paradox I’ve been living in lately. A strange blend of deep purpose and deep fear. The desire to create meaningful things, share my gifts, build spaces that heal and the creeping, silent voice that says, 

Who do you think you are to do this?

It’s subtle, but familiar. It shows up right after a win. Right before I hit “publish.” When someone compliments my work and I awkwardly deflect. When I'm working on something new and feel myself hesitating, dragging my feet not because I’m unprepared, but because I’m afraid of being seen.

That’s the thing no one tells you about stepping into your purpose.

That it's not just about building something powerful… it’s about making peace with visibility.

And for those of us who are used to staying in the background, that part can feel almost unbearable.

But I’m learning, slowly, to sit in that discomfort and keep showing up anyway.

Because the calling hasn’t gone away. And maybe… it’s not supposed to.

The Fear of Being Seen

I’ve always had a complex relationship with being seen.

Not in the superficial sense, but in the vulnerable one.

Being seen for who I really am. Not just the polished version, the curated creativity, or the finished product. But the work-in-progress. The human. The soul behind the scenes. And yet… I keep feeling the invitation to show more. To share more.

Not for validation, but for connection.

Not for applause, but for alignment.

To keep putting the work out there even when my hands shake.

To keep using my voice even when it feels easier to stay quiet.

It’s not easy. But something inside me keeps saying, 

You were made for more than hiding.

The Psychology of Imposter Syndrome

Imposter syndrome has been studied for decades. And while it often shows up in high-pressure, high-performance environments, it doesn’t just belong to CEOs or Ivy League students. It belongs to creatives. To healers. To artists. To people who care deeply about what they put into the world.

I’ve learned that imposter syndrome isn’t proof you’re not ready. It’s proof you’re growing.

It shows up when you’re expanding, when you’re stepping into territory your nervous system isn’t familiar with. Your body, your mind, and your inner critic haven’t caught up to the truth of who you’re becoming. And while it feels isolating, it’s actually incredibly common.

Studies show that around 70% of people experience imposter syndrome at some point in their lives. That means most of us are walking around with self-doubt tucked beneath our gifts. It’s not just you. It’s almost everyone you admire, too. Especially those who are called to do meaningful, soul-led work. Because when your work carries weight, you feel the responsibility of it. You don’t want to get it wrong. You don’t want to be misunderstood. You want to honor it fully and sometimes, that pressure alone can paralyze you.

But Here’s the Thing About a Calling

A calling doesn’t always feel like a clear trumpet sound.

Sometimes it feels like a quiet, persistent nudge.

A soft pull. A restlessness you can’t explain.

A knowing that there’s something in you that wants to be made real.

And I think many of us confuse the presence of fear with the absence of a calling.

But that’s not true. Fear doesn’t cancel the call. It often confirms it.

You feel fear not because you’re unworthy, but because your soul knows what’s at stake.

Because what you’re carrying matters.

Because something in you is trying to stretch beyond what’s familiar.

And that stretch? That edge?

That’s where transformation lives.

What If We All Feel It?

What if imposter syndrome isn’t proof that we’re imposters…

But proof that we’re human?

That we’re stepping into something sacred, and our old selves are scared to lose control. That we’re evolving, and evolution is uncomfortable. That maybe, just maybe, every person who’s ever done something great has wrestled with the same questions:

Am I enough?

Will people get it?

What if I fail?

What if I succeed and I can’t hold it?

Maybe greatness isn’t defined by the absence of fear.

Maybe it’s defined by how we move with it.

The Real Work: Moving Through the Fear

I’m not immune to these feelings. At all.

There are days I want to delete my work. Days I overthink my writing. Days I feel small in the face of what I know I’m capable of. Days I convince myself someone else could do it better. That I should wait. Perfect it. Rehearse more. Polish more. Hide a little longer. But the call keeps finding me.

And so, I keep choosing to act not because I’m fearless, but because I’m faithful.

Faithful to the vision.

Faithful to the work.

Faithful to the part of me that knows I was born to build something that heals.

Even if I’m scared.

Even if I feel like an imposter some days.

A Note to Anyone Who Feels the Same

If you’re reading this and nodding through the tears, I want to speak directly to you:

You’re not faking it.

You’re becoming it.

You’re not unqualified.

You’re expanding.

You’re not behind.

You’re just stepping into a version of yourself your old self never imagined was possible.

And that kind of transition takes time. It takes trust.

It takes choosing courage over comfort, again and again.

But here's the thing: you don’t need to feel ready.

You just need to be willing.

So This Is Me, Choosing Willingness

I’m saying yes to the calling, even when it scares me.

I’m creating things I believe in, even when my voice shakes.

I’m showing up, not because I’ve mastered the fear, but because I’ve made peace with it.

And I’m learning that the people who do meaningful work in the world aren’t always the most confident.

They’re just the most committed.

To truth.

To growth.

To showing up anyway.

So if you feel called, start.

If you feel afraid, start anyway.

If you feel seen in a way that makes you want to run, stay. Let yourself be witnessed. Let your gifts breathe.

There’s room for your becoming. And when in doubt, remember the people who change the world are often the ones who were terrified to, but did it anyway.

With tenderness and strength,

Ariel