Imposter Syndrome

My inner saboteur is louder than anything else right now. I was in a room full of people and she had me convinced that I am an imposter, a fraud. I don’t belong there. I am unworthy. No one wants to know this person (me). I don’t even want to know her. She belongs no where and she is no good at anything and she is useless.

Logically speaking, I know that my inner saboteur is wrong. But my heart is refusing to listen to logic. This overwhelming sense of worthlessness is incredibly familiar to me, like a warm old coat I forgot about and found again in the back of the closet. I am trying to give myself space to grieve while I process and untangle my heart. I don’t want to feel like I’m drowning in this anymore.

I shouldn’t compare myself to others, but it’s so hard sometimes. My mother and my relatives compared me, taught us to compare ourselves, to each other and everyone else all the time. I was regarded with disdain by aunts and other relatives when asked that dreaded question at Thanksgiving – “where are you working?” Then I would be regaled by how amazing and successful their own children are and how they are thriving, in a way that made me feel like I had chosen poorly. How my entire family ended up hating each other and playing this weird game of “my child is better than your child” I will never understand. It’s a game no one can win. But it’s also a knee-jerk default and so hard to unlearn.

It’s hard to let go of all this shame I have carried for so long. The shame my mother gave me. The shame society gave me for not following the template (you know, the one that says you have to go to college, have a career, get married, own a home, have babies, even though I don’t want to do most of that and it is also completely unaffordable). Other people seem to be thriving, and I can’t seem to make that happen for myself. Is it because my inner child still feels unworthy, even after all this time?

How do I convince my inner child that she is worthy of love? How do I convince her that she is worthy of the life she wants? How do I convince her that so many of the things she is worried about don’t actually fucking matter in the end? How do I tell her it’s going to be okay when nothing is?

Anyway, thanks for reading. I’m fine. I had a good ugly cry – the kind that makes your head hurt and you panic because you can’t breathe and you think “did I get COVID?” but then you remember to breathe through your mouth because your sinuses are angry (the ugly crying, remember?) and your lungs are working just fine.

Today’s post has been brought to you by Trauma – it’s a trap!

I solemnly swear my next blog post will not be like this.