I had a conversation with a new friend recently about “impostor syndrome,” in reference to putting myself out there in this blog. As is in, who do I think I am? What could I possibly have to offer? I’ve been hungrily subscribing to blogs every day, eating up the words of these fascinating, brave, insightful women (and even a few men), and I just feel a little silly thinking that I might be even close to their caliber.
But this friend, who has built an incredible online following of her own, tells me that everyone feels that way in the beginning, and probably at pretty regular intervals throughout. And I though, “Well shoot. Maybe these are my people after all.”
As an aside, the person I am referencing is Carrie Jordan, who is the beautiful soul behind The Rise Collective. From 2 thousand miles away and an entirely different time zone, she gave me a reading over the phone; in which we talked about my career path, my personality based on numerology, and even about my husband. I know calling her a friend is presumptuous, but a girl can dream 🙂 I highly recommend you check her out, and I personally plan to follow her more closely! I’m so grateful for that enlightening experience.
Anywhooo, a little encouragement goes a long way, so here I am, writing again. You lucky duck.
This impostor syndrome has had an effect on more than just the “blog” part of my life. (You know, the 3ish posts I’ve written without an audience (yet)- so obviously still building up to being a true “part of my life.”) I think I’ve felt like an impostor in all kind of situations- truly, in almost every role I’ve played in my life.
Let’s talk examples, shall we?
Yoga! I freaking love yoga. I want to TEACH yoga someday. But I’m often pretty sure my pose looks bad, I’m not breathing at the right time, or I’m really just trying not to fart. One time in class, we were in sleepy pigeon so long that I convinced myself I’d spontaneously gone deaf and the rest of the class had moved on while I was still lying there in my eternal silence, oblivious. So zen.
I worry that I’m not good at being a grown up. There is a whole #adulting thing out there on social media, so clearly I’m not alone. But jokes aside, I am in my mid-thirties. I rent my home with no plans to buy. I have no savings and lots of debt. Like, lots. I’m just now starting to work out what I want to do with my life. Add to this I’m not having children- by choice. If you think I don’t know how much the world feels uncomfortable with my life choices lining up with what it means to “grow up,” you think wrong. And if the world thinks it has some kind of monopoly on worrying about my decision making skills, I’ve got news for you, World. I worry enough for the BOTH of us.
I could add to this list, but why? Let’s focus less of places in life where I don’t feel legit and list some things I’m rocking.
Even though I occasionally doubt myself in every single area of my life; deep down, I know I’m not an impostor.
I’m a great sister. I have the world’s COOLEST brother and sister, and while I’m certainly flawed, they know I love them and have their back no matter WHAT.
I have made some wizbanging (it’s a word now!) bad choices that have caused them so much worry, but I never doubt that my mom and dad love me, and think I’m the best daughter ever. (You might think they crazy- I might agree- but those cats feel how they feel and I am not going to talk them out of it.)
Speaking of cats, my dog and 2 cats love me and wouldn’t trade living with me for anybody else in the world.
I might not be a perfect wife, but my husband keeps saying that I am, and DAMN, do I love him. So, clearly, in this marriage, I belong.
I challenge you to find a vegan who is perfect. We all stick to the basic rules: no animal products of any kind, ever. No fur or leather. But visit a vegan facebook board, and there is some disagreement, to put it kindly. The more I learn about the vegan community, the more I realize that as long as I am doing everything I can to NOT harm other sentient creatures, I’m part of that tribe. We all care a lot, and it just comes out of us in different ways. (and we crazy)
And if being a yogi means all the crunchy granola, universe-loving, self-forgiving, peace-seeking Om talk I feel and hear about, I am so in. Hope you brought your own Kool-ade, because I drank mine.
I think I’m done trying to be someone I “should” be, and I’m going to put all of my effort into being the person I want to be. And I’m also working on appreciating the person I am at any given moment. That might be me lost on the way to a place I’ve been a thousand times (good at directions is never a person I will be), me imperfectly loving the people in my life, or me farting on the yoga mat.
I hope you’ll work on loving your awesome self right along with me. If there is one thing I KNOW I’m good at, it’s lifting other people up. If you are reading this, I already think you’re the cat’s pajamas. Just don’t ask me for directions.