I have just sent off another of my doings. As I let them sit in my house where I could see them for at least the last month, hoping to retain the memory of them; I realized that I had sent hundreds of these doings off and always forgot that I had done them. Or at least when I saw them again it seemed like someone else surly did it because I could not have done so well.
I think the fact is even when they were finished from that moment on it seemed like someone else had done them. I remember the ones that I did poorly much better. The ones that I did exceptionally well are a blur. Why? Maybe Chani, my son, has put his finger on it with his blog---Impostor Syndrome
I have been an impostor for most of my life.
I am a person, I have known this. But, a mom, teacher, master gardener, director of Young Author's Conferences, wife, friend, clown, executor of an estate, caretaker for the elderly, seamstress, doll maker, sign language interpreter, artist? I don't know. All of these were temporary states in an ongoing consciousness...........
Every time I get put in one of these roles I rebel deep inside myself somehow. Like it is strangling me as a person. I can fill those roles for a while but if pressed to continue past whatever internal time my consciousness has given me--I feel trapped.
If I look back on any of these roles I can see the flaws in my performance like lights in the darkness--every flaw proves I am really an imposter. But the successes? They dim into oblivion. Maybe that is why I need so much reassurance. And when I don't get it, I die and so does the since of internal accomplishment.
It would be easy to say "Oh, just don't feel that way!", but it hasn't worked.