Every Thursday I write with a group of faculty members at the University where I teach. We begin our session on zoom discussing an article about writing, or research, and then keep our cameras on in order to be accountable to the 3 hour writing block.
While the intentions are certainly good—to develop a habit for writing, to create a plan and work the plan, I found today’s topic about the Imposter Syndrome very triggering.
First the article we read was all about the “fact” that the “system” has us all believing there is some sort of standard that none of us can really live up to. And, this my friends, pretty much is what I have now come to believe is what EVERY f-ing system in society has been designed to engender—a distrust of our basic humanness.
We are reminded often that we are not perfect, never will be, but not only that, it’s just a matter of time before everyone will know. Perfect, by the way, is the only standard. Perhaps it’s best to stay quiet. Don’t make waves. Go along to get along.
PS— You’ll never belong. Besides, AI will take care of the stuff you were inadequate to handle anyway.
Is this the kind of environment that creates a class of people who do as they are told? People who inject, cover-up, comply, defer, look the other way, hide, and ignore?
Are those of us who believe we are imposters simply unable to be who we really are? And, then whose fault is that? What’s missing here? Why does being a brave, beautiful, awkward, stumbling, brilliant, creative, audacious human present such a threat?
A definition of the Imposter Syndrome could be helpful here: the persistent inability to believe that one’s success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one’s own efforts or skills.
Outcome? Persistent anxiety. Do you get the picture? Wouldn’t a controlling entity want to have a population in perpetual anxiety?
Incidentally, I don’t know about you, but it bothers me tremendously that this line of thinking borders on paranoia. I take measures daily to check this tendency!
This week, I felt I needed some help. I made the decision to use an employee assistance program from my health insurance plan that allows for 5 sessions with a counselor.
It began with a referral list of about 15 names. I saw one that I recognized, a woman that I had met at a divine feminine gathering, for lack of a better descriptor. And, I liked her. Plus we seemed to be on the same page about this basic understanding: there is an untapped source of power within that does not bow down to cultural expectations. It is innate, human, and sacred.
I had two criteria for my choice, first, that the person be knowledgable of the cultural context of my “problem,” which is the dichotomy of living in a world with two different timelines. Where some believe the party line of safe and effective vaccines and some believe in the bioweapons. Seriously how far apart can you get?
I want to be able to talk about this openly. Half of the time, I feel like an imposter simply because I don’t feel authentic suppressing my thoughts and ideas—concerns around vaccine injuries, the takeover of our government, the suppression of free speech…you know the drill.
It’s this feeling that probably lead me to speak up at the county commissioners meeting, and at upcoming governmental appointments and interviews. I feel like I am being myself, when I speak what I consider to be important and the truth. Notice how much “feeling” is going on. Emotions run high.
So, the second criteria was I want to meet with my counselor in person. I want to “see” her, read the nonverbals, the body language. Sense her human qualities, using my senses. Zoom has it’s perks and it’s limitations.
The pandemic took many counselors out of the chair/couch modality and into the virtual. The secretary that I spoke to in the office of the woman I wanted to meet said that the whole staff only sees clients online. Oh no!
Reluctantly, after a long search, I made an appointment with a man who said he understood my concerns about being able to talk about the great awakening. And, that he was an open individual and a reflective thinker, but he corrected me by saying, “but the name of it is the great reset!”
You won’t believe what happened next! Tell me there is not a power that helps with energy alignment! Not a day later and the woman I originally wanted called me personally to say, yes, she would love to work with me. She actually does come into the office once a week. Let’s meet on Tuesday!
Whew! That was a close call. I cancelled the great reset guy and got with the great awakening gal! Do I have to say this was not a gender thing? Because it is not. If the great reset guy had been awakened, I would have gone with him.
My first session went well. She, of course, listened a great deal. But, she also talked and what she said is that our time together will be about getting to my most authentic self. The one that is unshakeable and true. The one I can depend on, no matter what. And here too we meet God.
I am hoping that after my whole 5 sessions is complete that I will have less triggering.
Yesterday, I was triggered by the fact that my yoga instructor was wearing a mask. Is that necessary? I was triggered earlier this week when I wrote the narrative for my annual review and stated that I feel like “I don’t belong,” in my department and in my University. My viewpoint is so suspect, so dismissed. So what? Can’t I just live my life!
I am looking for something…I read it in a book that my father gave to me.
We Took to the Woods, by Louise Dickinson Rich:
“People must conduct their own private search for a personal peace, a reasonable security, a little love, a chance to attain happiness through achievement. It isn’t much to want, but I never came anywhere near to getting most of those thing until we took to the woods. Our feeling of entity our sense of belonging, are never in danger here.”
What does this look like for me and my family? The cabin in the woods? Idyllic as this sounds, should we choose this, and this choice is on the table, I believe it will involve a whole new approach to life. And a surrender.
To oneself, to the universe, to God—where the Imposter Syndrome does not have the soil in which to grow.
Ditto on the muzzles. Every time I see a self-strangler I have to say some extra imprecatory prayers afterward for superstition. Is the torture returning? So far it hasn't, and it's been gone for about a year.
Perfectionism is deadly. One of my uncles was a perfectionist. He thought he was supposed to be a doctor, but ended up as an accountant. On the rare occasions when he allowed himself to make something, it was perfect. He could have been having lots of fun with imperfect carpentry and imperfect photography and just plain imperfect living, but he drank himself to death at age 49.
After that, I decided to get rid of perfection. A rule that works for me is 'begin at the end'. Make the bounding box or shape of the product first, whether it's a program or a doghouse or a picture. See the outline, get a sense of completion. At every stage, improve the innards and appreciate a sense of completion.
Realisation that all mental disorders are in tune with experience of the individual and the battle is merely with the limited perceptions of the system.
"Man can accept god becoming Man to save man, but not accept man becoming god to save himself." Vernon Linwood Howard