I have a secret. I’m a fraud. Everything you see about me is fake. Smoke in mirrors. Everything I have and anything I’ve achieved is because of pure luck. Or because I deceived someone into thinking I’m something I’m not. At least, that’s what I used to tell myself.
Hello, my name is Megan, and I suffer from Impostor Syndrome.
Not a mental illness
Impostor Syndrome is not a mental illness though it might be considered a personality trait ingrained into one’s psyche under certain situations. This “syndrome” was first written about by psychologists Pauline Rose Clance, PhD and Suzanne Imes, PhD in the 70s. According to the APA website, the phenomenon occurs in high achievers who are “unable to internalize and accept their success. They often attribute their accomplishments to luck rather than to ability, and fear that others will eventually unmask them as a fraud.” It is recognized as a real and specific form of self-doubt and can be accompanied by anxiety and depression.
Why have you never heard of this? Because we suffer in silence. We’re afraid of being found out, so we don’t talk about it. And we don’t always know we have it.
My realization
I only recently came to recognize this in myself when my husband and I began to embark on building a new home. It was exactly what we wanted and needed, and dare I say it was our “dream home.” And even though I ran the numbers, our budget, my husband’s average monthly commission over the last two years, pondered our five-year and ten-year plan ad nauseam, I still had anxiety about signing on the dotted line. I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it, and we were not first-time home-buyers! Why couldn’t I accept the house as a reality?
I began to observe how I spoke about the house to others, if I spoke about it at all. My sentences were riddled with “maybes” and “we’ll see,” like it wasn’t a real possibility. Then came the guilt over buying such a big home, like I was some evil American over-consumer who couldn’t be happy with anything I already had. How ungrateful of me! And before anyone could judge me, I would always add in the caveat, “Of course it’s not good timing with the twins being born and all, but we just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” What luck!
It dawned on me after some healthy self-reflection that I had somehow come to believe I did not deserve the house, that no matter how the facts added up, I could not afford it, the rug would be ripped out from under us, and we were ridiculous for ever thinking this could be our life. The dream home was still unattainable, a dream reserved for other more successful people.
Why didn’t I deserve this house?
Because I grew up in a trailer park. My single mom worked her butt off to provide. Statistically, I should have barely graduated high school. But I did graduate. With an academic scholarship to college in-hand. I married a man nothing like my absent father, went on to grad school, and hold a career that helps afford our lifestyle. I’ve pushed myself to achieve in order to overcome the shame that society placed on me as a child for where I lived and my family dynamics.
I’ve probably suffered with it most of my life, so I’m not sure why it was this house that snapped me into reality. I have always felt completely unworthy every time I’ve been offered a new, higher paying job, received an award, or been given an opportunity. My first days and weeks, sometimes months, of a new role have been shadowed by anxiety and fear of not being able to keep up, causing worry that I’ve somehow fooled them into picking me. What?!
It was clear that this inner-dialogue HAD to stop! Not only for my sake but for the sake of my children, especially my daughter. She is worthy, I am worthy, and Mama, YOU are worthy!
I may suffer from Impostor Syndrome, but like anything, awareness is key to overcoming it. Now that I know and that voice has a name, I can actively work to quiet it. We moved into that house in June and haven’t looked back.
