Some Thoughts on Imposter Syndrome

I have written about it before.

But on this week’s video, I muse a bit on the Great Imposter Syndrome several months after pressing publish.

Transcript:

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”

For years I whispered my dream.

Every now and then I would say it aloud, maybe even share with a person or two, but mostly I trudged along, moving around to different cities, countries, different jobs- all while locking away what it was I really wanted.

I often think of The Secret Garden and if you have not seen the film adaptation with Maggie Smith, well you should.

But the growth of Mary sticks with me even now. Her ability to bloom after such a long time of being dormant.

I had tried blogging, creating my own Etsy store, making photos for instagram. I wanted to write and create art through different mediums and live a life connecting with others through my creativity.

But each time I tried, I did not fail, because I simply STOPPED.

Of course, I was a bit of naive when it came to the business side of things, when it came to the internet, techie/ SEO side of things. But mostly it was the voice telling me I wasn’t good enough. That others were already doing it, and better at that. Why would anyone read my words? Why would anyone take a liking to my art? And even if someone did like it, why would they see value in it? Pay for it? Please.

One day years ago I submitted a piece to a small Canadian lit magazine. I had been determined to get published, and when they wrote back not only accepting my piece but placing it in the next issue I convinced myself that it wasn’t because it was good, it was that they just didn’t receive enough submissions. I received a copy of the issue and tucked it away in a closet to collect dust, without ever breathing my victory to anyone.

So many discerning thoughts swirling through my head, so no, I did not fail, I simply STOPPED.

I spent my 33rd birthday alone in lockdown. The days following, realizing the dire reality of my loss of work and income, the unsteady ground I had already been on began to literally crumble underneath me.

And then a few days later I decided I was going to write a book. I had never written fiction before. Never even thought I could, but there I was creating characters and scenes by the seat of my pants. And in that process, it was like unlocking Pandora’s box. Suddenly I had stories and ideas coming out of me faster than I could get them down on paper.

The whispers were still there of course. But I pressed publish anyway. The idea that my book was utter garbage, is utter garbage, still comes to me at least once a day, even though it’s been months since I released it into the ether. In fact, the 2 stars it received, even with no scathing review to tell me why, was almost a relief. Because nothing is perfect, and art is subjective, and I am still good enough.

This time round as I truly climb out of the rubble of my past, and fastidiously create the path I have bypassed too many times to count, the idea of stopping is not an option. I am choosing to believe in myself. I am choosing to believe in my talent, regardless of what my naysayer brain might say. I am choosing to push through despite my depression and all the things happening in my life, because things have and will continue to be there happening no matter how many ways I try to make small changes. I am choosing me.

So no in a sense the idea that I am an imposter and not good enough will never really go away. I will never really, truly say goodbye to it. But this time I just don’t care about its presence.

If so many others can do it, if a man can actually sell air for 80,000 grand, then I sure as hell can too!

I am my very much own garden and it is indeed time for me to bloom.

The Story of a Human

The question is not “Am I Happy?”

Sometimes I put on pants…