When Imposter Syndrome is Good

Ah, back on Vocal with a bit of a life update. Since…*checks date of last post* SIX some odd years ago, a bit of life has happened. I realized a few things:

1) Sometimes things fall apart.

2) Anxiety is an absolute butt when things are left unchecked.

3) I was living a life that was not meant for me.

It’s that third one that was a swift kick in the rear. I was…an imposter. For years. Literal YEARS.

Here I was, with my college degree, trying to climb the corporate ladder because that’s what everyone and their grandma said I should be doing.

”Go to college,” they said. “Get a good job,” they told me. It’ll all work out. Poppycock.

Listen, by no means am I knocking college. Far from it. I enjoyed what I learned, and I learned a lot…as expensive as it was…

I just didn’t learn about ME. I was stubborn and thought that I knew everything that was going to happen as long as I took all the steps that people told me to take…all the while COMPLETELY IGNORING everything that made me into what I am.

Ignoring the fact that I am a creative. Ignoring the fact that writing comes second nature to me. Ignoring the fact that I was given a voice, given a story, given the tools to tell that story.

And so, I ran around like an absolute dork, from retail job, to factory, to radio internship, to board member of a nonprofit, to call center rep, to teacher….there and back again.

Imposter syndrome can be defined as “the psychological experience of intellectual and professional fraudulence.” It can also be defined as “the subjective experience of perceived self-doubt in one’s abilities and accomplishments compared with others, despite evidence to suggest the contrary.” (Thanks, Wikipedia)

And man, did I feel that second definition while I was working in that factory… “What the $%@& am I doing?!” I screamed internally. I had no clue what the heck I was going to do once I got out of debt. “I’m nothing special, I have no experience, I can’t do (insert thing here).” I thought of everything in the book that I supposedly couldn’t do while I was sitting there on my dinner breaks once again, completely ignoring what I was good at. Cue the mini panic attacks.

It wasn't until I took one of those happiness inventories at a call center that I realized that even though I had worked my tail off to get where I was, that even though the money was set, I had a decent job (or so I thought at the time), I had someone that I wanted to marry, and so on and so forth....

I... Wasn't... Happy.

Not in the slightest.

And then rock bottom. I got fired. We broke up. The massive panic attacks. The ultrasound on my heart to rule out a heart attack. Going back to a job I hated. The complete dismantling of the life that I thought I was building the "right" way, destroyed in a matter of months.

And you know what?

Thank God.

Because see, that's when I started working on myself. Truly. For the first time... ever. That's when I started figuring out who I truly was behind all the high-performing BS rhetoric I fed myself.

I learned to laugh again. To smile fully.

I learned about my hobbies. The real hobbies. The ones that I did just for the sake of keeping me sane. The ones that didn't need to make money, they were just fun.

Oh, and that thing called fun...I learned about that too.

I started a journey in voice acting and using this insanely versatile voice of mine to give a voice to a story, and by extension, a voice to the voiceless. I pursued creative ventures. I reconnected with that nerdy little schoolboy I abandoned while trying to make money and apologized to him. We're cool now. And we never stop laughing together.

I stopped lying to myself about who I was for once in my life. I stopped letting others dictate who the hell I was.

For once, I stood up for myself. I took up my blade and carved out my boundaries and snarled at whoever might come to take my peace. I dared to scream...nay, bellow into the night a war cry, warning the devil himself that I'm here to stay and that I will no longer fall for lies about who I am and what I stand for.

I woke up from thrity some odd years of programming, and I no longer feel like a fraud.

I feel whole. I can say that I can honestly and openly express myself. And damn, does that feel good.

Weirdly enough...imposter syndrome was a bit of a wake-up call for me. A call that the life I was living wasn't really for me, it was for some weird doppleganger who was just following orders from people who were trying to protect me in their own ways. But that's just it. You can't stay safe all the time...You've got to take risks. Rebel. Jump out of a plane and feel the wind beneath your wings a bit. Fail. Learn. Grow.

I can't say that I'm fully at where I want to be yet, far from it. But I do feel a lot closer to that ever-elusive thing called happiness. What I can say is that the process feels just the tiniest bit easier. I haven't had a really bad panic attack in several years, even in the face of some really crazy crap that's happened since. I feel like my time is coming. I feel more confident now than what I've felt in years past. I breathe easier. I feel lighter. I can speak my truth without worry or fear. And right now, that's enough.

Knowing that I'm not an imposter makes all the difference in how I approach life. The gloves are off. The chains are broken, and now I go on the offensive. Bring on life.