Me, Myself, and I: Building a Website When You Don’t Think You’re Good Enough…

An imagination of me in one of those meal trucks modified to sell my merch, and noone comes around my store.

If you’ve ever felt like there’s more than one version of you fighting for control every time you try to make art, welcome to my world. I call them Me, Myself, and I—and they don’t always get along.

Me is the one who actually likes creating. I love sketching out characters by hand, inking them in with Procreate on my iPad, and dreaming up cartoon and comic-style worlds. I’ve always been inspired by things like Marvel and Star Wars, but “I” doesn’t let me touch that stuff. “I” is the loudest voice. The one who worries about copyright and lawsuits and embarrassment. The one who says I’m not good enough, too late to start, and that maybe I should give up and do something safer—something that doesn’t expose so much of myself.

But then there’s Myself—and honestly, I think they might be my favorite. “Myself” whispers about possibility. About how cool it would be to finally have an art career at 57. About how my unique voice, my style, and my characters deserve to exist in the world, not buried in a sketchbook or stuck in my iPad gallery.

And this year, for once, I listened to “Myself”.

I invested in a website.

Yep—real money, real commitment, real panic. But also, real hope. My hope is that by investing in this platform, I’m also investing in “Me”. In the version of me that wants to share. That wants to connect. That wants to believe that it’s not too late to build something meaningful with my art.

It hasn’t been easy. Every time I try to upload something or write an “About Me” section, “I” is right there, shouting about how cringe it all is. But each time I hit “publish,” “Myself” gets a little stronger. And “Me”—the one who actually creates—is finally getting the space to breathe again.

So if you’re out there, stuck in the middle of your own argument between doubt and dreams, let me just say this: You’re not alone. It’s scary to put yourself out there, especially when your worst critic lives in your own head. But it’s also worth it.

I don’t know exactly where this journey will lead. But for the first time, I’m showing up. For my art. For Myself.

And that’s a start.