Impostor Syndrome - True Confessions

All my life I’ve suffered from Impostor Syndrome--that persistent certainty that I’m not worthy, that everything I’ve achieved is by chance, an inexplicable twist of fate.  And that surely any moment my fraudulent charade will be uncovered and I will be drummed out of my position in mortal shame.  This self doubt has crippled me at times and generated huge anxiety for me.  So often I’ve felt that I just don’t belong where I am in any way, shape, or form.  According to my research, this is a surprisingly common affliction for women and men.   The prescribed treatments include:

• attending group therapy with others in the same boat--hearing how common this state of mind is with others who by all outward appearances are deservedly successful
• imagining what the response would be if you explained your “incompetence” to the supportive people you have “fooled”
• keeping records of positive feedback received
• employing positive self talk: “I will do well in this presentation” rather than “I know I'll screw this up somehow”

In my own experience, no amount of self talk has been fully successful in eradicating this feeling, but awareness of it has helped me to stay mindful of the distorted thoughts around it and able to resist it to some degree.

I do remember a conversation I had with my father about 12 years ago (he of the “Horrible Example” fame) when I told him that I had been promoted.  (I will resist the urge here to itemize all the reasons still lurking in my own head for why this was surely an improbable turn of events).  My father’s reaction to the happy news was sheer, unmitigated disbelief.  I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone of voice.  He could not comprehend how it was possible.  I do know that my father loved me very  much--but this reaction was painful for me I must admit, and further contributed to my own doubts about my worthiness. 

In thinking back on it, I think my Dad’s reaction was driven by his own negative world view--the self doubt that tortured him all of his work life and caused him huge suffering. 

I remember once in a therapy session (oh, yes, I know from therapy) with a male grad student when I was in my 20’s being called on my “dumb blonde act”--it was a pretty crude and roughly handled confrontation but I’ve never forgotten it and eventually I came to understand what he was driving at.   He said, “You’re just a little cream puff, aren’t you?”

Understanding all of this, today I’m able to let go of the hurt and feel compassion for my father’s past suffering, and the suffering of all who feel like impostors, who have the excruciating sense of unbelonging that can make life such a grind.  

So--for all those fellow suffers who may be reading this and looking for a solution--please look objectively at the evidence, and then choose to believe in yourself.  You are not perfect, but your achievements are real and deserve your recognition and self love.  

Comments appreciated (but I’m determined not to think less of myself if there are none).   Dear, dear.  What a piece of work I am...