Imposter Syndrome is Undead
By: Jyll Thomas
Tags: Relationships, Acceptance, Writing Life, Baking, Imposter Syndrome

Photo by Jodie Morgan on Unsplash

Imposter Syndrome is undead but not alive. If something is alive, then it is possible to kill it. Imposter Syndrome is invincible and will never die, it will suck the life and motivation out of you like a hungry vampire that hasn’t fed in thousands of years. It thrives inside our minds and feeds off self-doubt as it consumes every bright spark of creativity.

I haven’t written as much as I should have these past months. I wrote a funny, scary Halloween story whose performance got cancelled on account of stupid Atlanta weather. I take it as a personal insult when it rains on Halloween especially since it hasn’t rained on Halloween in ten years. Maybe I’ll find another home for the story where someone will keep it safe from storms and internet trolls.

I haven’t written anything meaningful or challenged myself with any baking projects. It’s been a time of introspection and messages from the universe, if you will indulge me. I recently learned I have scoliosis and asthma that is exacerbated by my job. I need to quit my job but the only work I want to do is write. This is where Imposter Syndrome sunk its fangs into my heart.

How dare I think anyone would read something created by me much less want to pay me for my work?

My husband has taken over the kitchen. He is trying to make cheddar jalapeño biscuits from a mix for cheddar muffins. I told him it’s not going to work because the batter will not be as thick as the batter used to make biscuits and he’s going to wind up with cheddar jalapeño pancakes. He doesn’t care, he’s going to fly in the face of promised failure and make them because he wants to see what will happen.

It’s a good lesson in defeating the voices that say you can’t do something, you’re not good enough, and you cannot make good art. The only way to quiet those screeching harpies although there is no way to silence them is to plunge ahead. Paint, write, and apply for that job you’re not qualified for or go back to school to learn for the sake of learning regardless of the clatter in your head. This will not vanquish Imposter Syndrome but may force it to rest in its coffin until called to rise again with the next dark sky.

I am still wrestling with the desire to quit my job and live a happier and healthier life and the need to pay bills, have health insurance and care for my dogs. I spoke with my husband about how I felt inadequate and not worthy of being a paid writer. He shrugged and turned back to the painting he was working on, “If all you want to be is a hairdresser that’s fine but if you want to be a writer then you need to write.”

Later that day, I received an acceptance email from a magazine. I submitted an essay to them that I thought would never be printed because it was weird and they probably received much better submissions than mine. They loved the piece and wanted to know how I wanted to receive payment.

This did not drive a stake through the heart of Imposter Syndrome. I can still hear the whispers that the magazine made a mistake in accepting my work but those treacherous voices hiss and spit from the shadows as I bask in the temporary glow of hope that I could be a writer.

In case you were wondering, I don’t think Red Lobster is going to hire my husband to make their Cheddar Bay biscuits but as cheddar jalapeño pancakes, they weren’t too bad.