Imposter Syndrome
I found myself at a loss for what this month's blog post should have been about. I had some good ideas, ones I might use in the future, but nothing that really resonated with me in the here and now. I guess some would call it writer's block… but I always felt that was related to having no ideas about what to write, sort of an open space of nothingness. Whereas I have a million and one ideas, and I don’t want to write about any of them.
And then something very heartfelt happened to me this past weekend, and it sort of cracked me open. And I had to share the reality of this experience with you.
I have been writing for years now, struggling to find my way to share those writings with the public, with the focus being on social media. And those writings have always been about honesty, vulnerability, and the real part of what life looks like from my perspective. The whole reason I write the way I write is two fold: 1) So that I can process my emotions clearly by putting names to the feelings of the events that happen in my life, 2) So that others will read my experiences and feel comforted that they are not alone in doing this massive thing called LIFE.
For most of my life I had felt that I was alone in how I processed life, how I was raised, how I reacted to things happening around me, how I felt on a day to day basis of struggling to live. And I thought if I wrote about it, and shared those experiences, it would help others not feel alone like me. For me, the struggle was never about saying how I felt, the struggle for me has always been about does anyone even listen, care, relate… Do my words reach those who need it, do my words even reach anyone.
At the beginning of last year, I played with the idea of doing a podcast, turning my blog into a paid subscription, and finding alternate ways I could make money from my writing. And it kept coming back to the belief that those who needed my words the most, those people who would benefit from reading my words the most, were probably going to be the ones who, like me, wouldn't spend money on themselves. Because we operate from the belief that we are not worthy or good enough to spend money on, especially something we believed to be so impractical. So, at that time, I had profound clarity that my writings would always be free, and that was one way I could help people who really needed it. (And to take this a step further with honesty, I really didn’t know how to “sell” this sort of personal life journal of mine, in a way of marketing to those who might need it.)
As most things in life tend to do, I changed. Life changed. I began to respect myself more, began to realize what was life giving, and life draining, and began to understand what healthy boundaries really meant in general, and then specific to my writing. I realized I wanted more structure and boundaries, hence the new website earlier this year. I wanted social media to be less prominent, knowing it could be taken away instantly. I wanted to create a community away from that, although I’m still not sure exactly what that looks like, except for now it’s an email list where I can offer more of myself, for free, to those who choose to have that. Blogging has stayed the same. And I did want to try my hand at selling something, and The Self Nurturing Article was born - journaling prompts to help and support others on their own journey of life.
I felt all of this was exactly what I wanted, and needed, at this point in my life. To continue to offer my words for free, while also offering something a little deeper to those who were ready for that next step.
And yet I find myself stuck again, asking the exact same question, “Is this what I’m meant to be writing about?” Round and round I go, questioning myself, my writing, my vision, my output into this world.
And then this past weekend, it came back to me. The outpour of love. Very random, surprised, full of support and recognition. One woman told me she found my writing refreshing, how open and honest it was, and inspiring. I blushed, telling her I wish I could do what she does as it looks fun and silly, and she responded with, “I’m just a weirdo... What you do, no one else can do. It’s unique.” Another woman told me she loved my writing, that it was so raw and made her feel like she wasn’t alone in doing this thing called life. She told me she appreciated my support of her craft, as she often deals with imposter syndrome, to which I could wholeheartedly relate… Are we good enough to be doing this work we love? Are we good enough to put a dollar value on our work, and make money from it?
These compliments were more than just a boost to my ego, and a comfort to my heart. They made me realize that questioning myself, and this work I do, is normal and part of the process of growing a craft, and also experiencing life. THIS IS THE WORK. To repeatedly show up and advocate for myself, even when no one else does, because I believe in myself and what I do. Yes I feel like a fake sometimes. I produce writing that makes me cringe sometimes. I’m messy, not predictable, not very organized or cohesive.
And yet, I am still worthy of everything I want for myself.
It makes me feel icky to promote my writing, to show my face all the time, to say hey come buy this from me. BUT, by doing those things, I show myself that I DO back myself. That I’m my biggest supporter, advocate, and admirer of my writing. So with these compliments close to my heart, and a more solid grasp on who I am, I’ve recommitted to supporting myself in ways that I can see, and not just feel.
If you are dealing with imposter syndrome too, and working your way through it, I am with you. It’s so very hard, and yet, it’s the work of life we must do to get where we want to go. It will be worth it… YOU ARE WORTH IT!
