Unsure

I am having a very unsure day.  Not fretting.  But feeling like all of this writing is a waste of time.  That it doesn't do anything for anyone.  That it is without meaning.  I know where these feelings come from.  I have heard for so very long about how everyone thinks that they're a writer....that I've got no special skills.  And the self doubt creeps in.  How can God use these ponderings, these very unprofessional, unpolished words to further the kingdom?  So, what purpose is it?
Sanity.  My very own.  Though I may never know who this reaches, I can know that I wrote what was put in my heart.  That I was true to my own calling.  That I risked, though I was scared.  And, I am.  But, onward I go.  Like I've been commissioned.  Like I've been given a ....oh my goodness....a purpose?? I don't understand it.
Maybe the sole(soul) purpose is to stand up against the fact that my dream was belittled and I need to overcome being held hostage by that.  Every time I write and I want to feel proud, I struggle.  I falter.  I tremble.  But I am doing it anyway.  And that says something.  It says that I am growing.  For that little thing I am grateful.