"I'm not an artist"

One of the many stupid things I have told myself.

The world constantly puts us down.

Maybe our parents made us feel small for not getting good grades. Maybe friends teased us for not dressing well. Maybe colleagues laughed when we fumbled a presentation.

But you and I both know the one culprit who does it more than anyone else.

Ourselves.

I’ve told myself so many things that have held me back—thoughts with no real basis, yet strong enough to stop me from even trying.

One of them?

“I’m not an artist.”

And I had all the ‘evidence’ to back it up.

• I’m a logical person.

• I’m not whimsical or mysterious.

• I’m too casual and fun to be a deep and serious artist.

• I’m too upfront, too direct—I don’t do layers or pretty words.

Even in my writing, I say things as they are. How can I possibly be an artist?

Looking back, the law student in me should’ve recognized that all this ‘evidence’ was circumstantial at best.

But I believed it like it was an absolute truth.

For years.

Lately, though, I’ve been rewriting the script.

I still can’t bring myself to say, “You know what? I’m an artist.” But I’ve started telling myself, “I don’t have to be an artist to do art that brings me joy.”

A small shift. But enough to change things.

Showing up as a writer

I’ve been writing the way I want to write—simple, direct, and just me. Not dramatic. Not poetic. Not mind-blowing. Just my thoughts as they come.

And people are reading it.

Maybe not in huge numbers, but enough. Enough to remind me that my voice matters.

Singing for the love of it

Back in school and university, my voice was a horror story. I yelled too much, my throat was always sore, and my sense of music? Questionable, to say the least.

People asked me to please stop singing. And honestly? They weren’t wrong.

But I loved it. So, I kept singing—alone, just for me. Not to be a singer, but because it made me happy.

Fast forward five years, and guess what? I can actually sing now. My friend—who once begged me to shut up—now says I have a good voice. A playback singer even told me I sing well. I jammed with her.

Who would’ve thought?

Painting because I want to

Recently, I picked up a brush, stared at the empty canvas, and felt completely overwhelmed. So I did the simplest thing I could think of—thumbprints.

I posted the result here on Substack. And the response? Wow.

Remember those coloring books we loved as kids? We never stayed inside the lines, but we didn’t care. We just enjoyed it.

Remember those nursery rhymes we sang with no rhyme or rhythm? We still sang it at the top of our lungs.

Somehow, as adults, we stop doing things unless we can do them right.

Maybe that’s the secret to becoming anything we want to be—just doing it. Not with labels or expectations, but for the joy of it.

And eventually, we’ll get better.

And if not? At least we’ll have enjoyed the process.

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Little Joys

“Joy is always around if only we pause to acknowledge it.”

With life's burdens and big ambitions, it's easy to overlook our everyday joys. Let’s take a moment to acknowledge the small joys from the last week. Here are mine -

• I found my teacher for the next phase of my life.

• Had the pleasure to meet a singer who’s now a good friend of mine and is an inspiration.

• Got to act in front of people after a very long time. It was really nice to feel the stage again after years.

• Met many interesting people and had amazing conversations.