imposter syndrome

Ins & Outs…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

I haven’t made New Year’s resolutions since I was a child. At first glance I thought the In & Out trend was just a rebranding. However, on further investigation I have decided that I like this less momentous approach. Instead of massive declarations, we’re just reassessing what everyday things serve us well. Less changing who you are & more smoothing life’s aggravating edges. I’m willing to give it a go.

In

Swimming

More of it. I love swimming. I feel less pain in the water. I can whizz up and down in a manner I haven’t done on land in years. I enjoy it. I don’t know why I so frequently let life get in the way, no more. I’m carving out time every week to indulge in a dip.

Do it for fun.

I am pretty useless at crafty things. I do however enjoy the process. I like pottery and painting and making my own flowery bits. I’m often put off by the fact that the finished product is not grade A. Bugger that, why relinquish pleasure because I’m not good at it? No one is good at everything. Just for the fun it is good enough reason.

Currently reading

I like seeing what others are reading & enjoying. I’m often asked which books are on my shelves. Unfortunately I forget to share as I’m reading. Then when I remember, I have dozens of books I haven’t talked about. This year I will endeavour to share my books as I devour them.

Have a little faith

In my own talent. I know I can write. People pay for my words, lots of folk read this blog, my work has been praised and published for years. I know I can write. Yet, the imposter syndrome is real. Doubt is always creeping in, I drag my feet on some opportunities because I’m not convinced I’m good enough. It has to stop. I’m 43yrs old, I can do this.

Out

Matching Socks

I have various singleton socks. Perfectly nice, soft & cosy socks. Bugger it, I’m pairing up the odd ones and wearing them. No one with any sense cares a jot.

Guilt

I have a long established guilt issue. I can & will feel guilty about almost anything. Given that I have plenty of real things to feel horribly guilty about, I am going to try my hardest to let the insignificant things slide. There are only so many hours in the day, it does no one any good for me to spend most of them worrying about what is my fault.

Explaining

It’s exhausting and most the time it’s no one’s business. I’m no longer explaining why I need to know if there are seats or stairs. Folk can just answer the question. I ask politely, it’s straightforward information, just say yes or no. Randoms don’t need to know what pill I’m taking, why I’m vegan, why I fainted or any number of other things. Curiosity killed the cat and constant explaining knackered his Mother.

Making exceptions

This is the big one. There are one or two people in my life from whom I accept less. I love them, I know them inside out & I want them in my life. As a result I tolerate certain things from them that I wouldn’t from anyone else. Mostly this is absolutely fine. I’m not talking about horrid or cruel behaviour. Just the odd less than ideal lapse. Here’s the rub, sometimes those lapses hurt. I’ve decided it’s time I shift things away from swallowing that hurt. Everyone deserves to their have effort & care reciprocated. I must stop making exceptions. When annoying becomes hurtful, it is time to speak up.

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Still reigning…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

That back to reality January feeling is setting in. I don’t believe in all the New Year resolution stuff, but it is hard to fight the taking stock of the year past urge. I’m trying not to give way to January blues & those nagging feelings of not having achieved quite enough. Before I get stuck into conquering 2023 I’m sharing some joyous outfits I ended last year in.

For my sister’s birthday dinner I wore this swishy number. It’s a Christmas gift from my Mum & she got it so right. I feel instantly fancy when I slip it on. It is super comfortable and makes me look glam all at once. I love it.

ly is wearing a bronze maxi dress. She is standing with her hand in one hip and leaning on a walking stick.
Dress – Boden

More relaxed, but no less me is this leopard maxi. Another Xmas gift, this time form my sister. I love the tiered skirt, the print and how I can throw it on & still look put together. I’m loving how well my people know me.

ly is wearing a tiered leopard print maxi dress. She is standing in her living room with both hands on her hips.
Dress – ASOS Curve

Last, but not least we have the cutest bralette ever to exist. It’s so too pretty to be only underwear. Thus, I like to show it off with a variety of low cut items and sometimes even just some high waisted knickers. I defy anyone not to get a boost from pulling a superhero pose in lovely lingerie.

Bralette – Tutti Rouge

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The Fear…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

Spoonie life comes with many challenges. There are the obvious constrictions. Then there’s the hidden toll. The less apparent complications that pack a punch. It’s those tricky unseen issues that I want to talk about.

A major component of my chronic illness is anxiety. I have mental health issues which include anxiety, but my physical difficulties bring their own particular stresses. There’s the guilt; a feeling that’s perpetually nestling in the background of my consciousness. Guilt over letting people down, asking for help, using resources or saying no too many times. I have a million things to feel guilty about and every one of them has it’s own additional worries. I feel huge anxiety about cancelling anything due to illness. I worry people will be angry, upset, left in the lurch. I analyse every response and feel certain someone is annoyed. I overthink every request for help. Surely I can get this done without inconveniencing others. Am I asking too much? Always, always I worry that I’m just not worth all the extra effort.

Unfulfilled potential offers me unlimited scope for guilt. I am sure that I have disappointed. There are expectations that I have not met. Chronic illness has interrupted or ruled out so many things. I know my limitations have impacted more than me. I am haunted by the moments I may robbed folk of. To not live up to the hopes of those you respect is crushing. Not reaching your own is no party either. On an existential level it feels negligent not to maximise one’s talents. I spend more time than is reasonable worrying about all the ways in which I have short changed society. I am ashamed of all the things I cannot do.

Orange light is sunset shining in to a dark room

Shame looms large. Intellectually I know I cannot control any of my health issues. However, I’m not always great at translating that knowledge into feelings. I’m embarrassed about how little I can get done during the bad times. I often feel less capable, less valuable, just less. I stress about the judgements that will be passed. It’s very humbling to be unable to keep on top of all the housework. Likewise to have a head like a bird’s nest because your body just won’t allow you to shower & do your hair. I cringe at needing help to stand up. Wince every time I have to explain why I’m ordering a taxi to take me round the corner. Each unproductive day is a dent in the ego. It’s hard to feel worthy when writing two paragraphs & heating soup are a whole day’s accomplishments.

Then, some days you’ll wake up and feel relatively good. That should be lovely, but so often it’s tainted. Coloured with more guilt. How dare I enjoy myself when I’m supposed to be sick. Imposter syndrome creeps in. I start to feel if I can manage doing this nice thing I should be able to handle everything else. I feel bad for feeling good and I’m scared. I fear that I’ll be judged on my good days. I’m terrified that everyone else is thinking I should do better. When folk see me having a couple of glasses of wine with a friend do they think I must be fine? If I succeed professionally I’m convinced everyone believes I’m faking it. It’s such a difficult juxtaposition to live with; feeling terrible for all the things one cannot do whilst also believing the things you can will be held against you.

Yellow road sign with text, I’m scared my good days will be used against me

Even writing this is giving me anxiety. Will this be perceived as whiny? Or as me making excuses for myself. It’s not intended to be either. I just want to have honest conversations. Large aspects of the disabled/chronically ill experience are never acknowledged. Too often we’re judged or dismissed without ever having been listened to.

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