Self-doubt is like an invisible anchor, weighing you down just when you’re ready to set sail. It’s that nagging voice that whispers, “Are you sure you’re good enough?” right when you’re about to take a leap. For me, self-doubt has been a lifelong companion, showing up not just in my pursuit of building a presence in the crypto world, but in almost every aspect of my life.
But here’s the thing: self-doubt isn’t just an enemy—it’s also a mirror, reflecting back the fears and insecurities that many of us carry around but rarely talk about.
When I first started getting into crypto, I was told I had a knack for it. People around me would say, “You’ve got a good eye for finding the right projects,” or “You know your stuff.” And yet, every time I looked at my portfolio, I’d question whether I really knew anything at all. If I was so good, why wasn’t I rolling in profits? Why didn’t my success match up with what others seemed to see in me?
This disconnect between what others said and how I felt created a cycle of doubt. Instead of pushing forward, I’d procrastinate, put things off, or even give up entirely. And it wasn’t just with crypto. I’d start projects with enthusiasm, only to abandon them halfway when that familiar feeling crept in: “This isn’t going to work. You’re wasting your time.”
Consistency has always been my Achilles’ heel. I’ve tried to build a following before—whether it’s in crypto, social media, or other ventures—but staying consistent has always been a battle. The moment I hit a rough patch, that inner voice would start its chant: “This is pointless. No one cares. Why are you even bothering?”
And yet, here I am, still bothering. Still trying. Because as much as self-doubt wants to pull me under, there’s a part of me that refuses to sink. That part knows I have something valuable to share, even if it’s just my own experiences, my own struggles.
The Double-Edged Sword of Reflection
Recently, I’ve been reflecting more deeply on these patterns, trying to understand where this self-doubt comes from and how I can push through it. The truth is, these aren’t new issues. They’ve been with me for as long as I can remember. But now, instead of letting them rule me, I’m starting to see them for what they are: challenges to be faced, not reasons to give up.
I’ve come to realize that the goal has always remained the same—building a presence in the crypto world and making a name for myself. Yes, I’ll battle depression along the way. Yes, there will be days when I feel like I don’t have a voice, like nothing I say matters. But I’ve decided that Getitjay.com is where I’ll speak my truth, where I’ll share my life—the good and the bad.
So, where do I go from here? I keep pushing. I keep sharing. I keep building, one small step at a time. Maybe my site won’t change the world, but it’s a start. It’s a place where I can be honest, where I can lay out my struggles and maybe—just maybe—help someone else who’s dealing with the same things.
Self-doubt may never fully go away, but it doesn’t have to dictate my actions. I can acknowledge it, learn from it, and keep moving forward. Because at the end of the day, it’s not about eliminating doubt—it’s about refusing to let it stop me.
And if you’re reading this, dealing with your own self-doubt, know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to question yourself, to wonder if what you’re doing matters. Just don’t let that doubt be the reason you stop. Keep pushing, keep building, and know that your voice—our voices—do matter.
Maybe nobody will even read this stuff. Maybe only two people will read it. But that doesn’t even matter. Writing is about venting and getting my voice out there. I know that I need to write. I know that I need to formulate these thoughts into something tangible. Because otherwise, I just sit there, and it all builds up inside.
Writing isn’t just about reaching an audience; it’s about giving myself the space to express what’s on my mind, to organize my thoughts, and to find clarity. Even if only a few people ever read it, the act of putting my thoughts into words is valuable in itself. It’s a way to release the pressure and to make sense of everything I’m going through.
And who knows? Maybe someday, someone will stumble upon my words and find exactly what they needed to hear. But even if that doesn’t happen, writing is my way of processing and moving forward. It’s my voice, and it deserves to be heard, even if the only person listening at first is me.
