How my imposter syndrome has changed over the years
I did an image search for “cat.”
I thought that I had gotten over so-called “imposter syndrome,” in which a person feels like a fraud, poorly qualified to do the things they’re doing (or want to do).
I remember when I could not — could not — create a website for my music. It felt totally phony to write a third-person bio (“Casey is a singer-songwriter who labors in obscurity…”) and when I went to write a first-person bio instead, I shut down completely. Years later, I felt grateful not to be there anymore. I could now start things and follow through on them. I could do the work that needed to be done (including writing bios) easily and without angst.
No, imposter syndrome no longer prevents me from taking action and sharing my work. But I have realized that it’s still there — it just has a different flavor.
Instead of being afraid to launch something, I’m sometimes a bit surprised that people want to buy it. I’m surprised that people ask for my advice. When they actually write it down, there’s a little part of me that goes, “Wait…how can you be sure that I have any idea what I’m talking about?”
And each time The Little Middle School sends a student to high school successfully, I breathe a little sigh of relief. Even after eight years, I have a nagging concern that my crazy ideas are just going to mess up people’s lives.
These thoughts are so reflexive that I don’t stop to think about whether they’re rational. And I can largely ignore the ones that I’m used to. But as I’ve moved into new projects, I can see and hear them more clearly. Now that I’m learning to make videos, they are screaming. “You’re too old and ugly to be on YouTube! You don’t play music well enough to teach it! Your ideas aren’t interesting or polished enough, and neither are you!”
In reflecting on the discomfort, I’ve realized that’s all it is — discomfort. There is no permission required to make YouTube videos, just like there isn’t for blogging, starting a school (believe it or not), or doing any of the other things I do. If there are hoops, I’ll jump through them, but there’s no one who can tell me yes or no. I can make that choice myself, and commit to it.
It helps, at this point, to have seen the results of taking action. That’s the difference between me and my wannabe self fifteen years ago. I now know that once you put something out into the world, it’s as though it was always there.
The truth is that people will take something that you made as seriously as they take a rock or the chair they’re sitting on. It’s real. People will call and say things like, “I know the application deadline was yesterday, but I was hoping you could make an exception.” You created a thing out of thin air, including the deadline — and now it’s real. You then play within the same rules you made up. “Okay, yes, if you get it to us by 5 PM today, we’ll consider it.” It feels silly. It feels kind of phony — fraudulent. It sort of is, but only in the sense that all reality is a construct, maaaaan.
Everything that everyone else has made is the same way. History is full of unhappy people who were real to everyone but themselves (Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, Michael Jackson) as well as people who bought what they were selling with conviction (Steve Jobs, Gandhi, Bob Dylan).
Making something new can be uncomfortable and uncertain, but it is easier when we can see it as a game. When it’s not about whether I have the proper qualifications, I have more energy for the work at hand. Am I creating something that will be useful to others? Will it be recognizable to them? Will they see it on the shelf and believe that it is what they were looking for? I used to be too wrapped up in proving myself to consider these questions. Now, they guide me forward.
I used to be totally paralyzed by imposter syndrome. Then, I learned to ignore it. And now, it is a helpful indicator that I am growing.
As I wrap up this article, I’m thinking, “Why does anyone care about my experience with imposter syndrome? What do I know about it?” I’m sharing it with you anyway. I hope you will appreciate the irony.
What are your experiences with self-doubt in your work? How have you resolved them? I’d love to hear your story in an email or comment.