Imposter Syndrome
When I asked ChatGPT what imposter syndrome is, it responded with “Imposter syndrome is a psychological phenomenon where individuals doubt their accomplishments and have a persistent fear of being exposed as a fraud. Despite external evidence of their competence and success, people with imposter syndrome believe they are not deserving of their achievements. They often attribute their success to luck, timing, or deceiving others into thinking they are more intelligent and capable than they perceive themselves to be. This syndrome can affect anyone, regardless of their social status, work background, skill level, or degree of expertise. It can lead to stress, anxiety, and a lack of self-confidence, hindering personal and professional growth.” And, this may be true. But for someone who constantly feels like a little kid facading around in an adult's body it feels too clinical. Too stripped of the personal effect it has upon one's self. Too scientific to be humanastical. And, the more I research the more imposter’ed I feel. It’s like where is an artistically emotive description of what this syndrome feels like? And when I couldn’t find one; I thought fuck it. I guess I got to write one myself. So, here goes.
Imposter syndrome feels like waking up every morning and drinking a cup of coffee that tastes like tea; it's like waking up and disbelieving all that you see; it's biting into a chocolate chip cookie only to realise it's raisin. It's like waking up to sunshine but only seeing the grey skies of last week. It's like waking up and breathing in oxygen that is not your own; the trees you see breathe in different air. It's like standing barefooted in long grass constantly longing for a purpose but the purpose never finds you! It feels like slapping paint onto a canvas without intent; a colourful mess with no meaning. It's like waking up in a body that misaligned itself with the soul. It's like smiling but only externally as the internal fragility clutches for stability. It's like walking around in a large crowd yet feeling like you're the only person alive. It's like waking up and eating Weetbix when it's toast you really seek; there's a massive disconnect between what nourishes you and what starves you. It's like waking up amongst stars wishing you were in the ocean; you don’t belong. It's like waking up and only seeing grey when the world radiates colour. It's like waking up to whispers telling you that you don’t exist or that your existence will never be enough. It will have you waking up drowning in the shallows of the ocean as the waves of doubt overwhelm you.
But, it will also have you falling asleep with loneliness as your companion because at least in solitude they can't leave you in their absence. It will have you falling asleep with self-doubt as the pillow you lay your confused mind upon. It will have you falling asleep wishing you don’t wake up. It will have you falling asleep riddled with unfilled longing tearing at your soul. You'll fall asleep replaying the day's activity wondering why you said such things to the point of anxiety. It will have you falling asleep wondering if you’ll ever grow around your trauma or whether it will continue to consume. It will have you falling asleep piecing together all your mistakes as you forget about all of your wins. It will have you falling asleep crying into a pillow as the fear of being inauthentic rattles the soul. It will have you falling asleep and not resting as the subconscious works overtime to bring you back into harmony. It will have you falling asleep tossing and turning as restlessness disturbs you. It will have you falling asleep to complete darkness as the mind self-destructs. It will have you falling asleep only to wake in sweats a few minutes later.
And, if you think this imposter syndrome only exists when you wake and when you fall then you’d be mistaken for it is the distance between awake and rest where the imposter syndrome really sings out. It has you feeling like an industrialist's machine in a world of souls. It will have you wandering through the day in delirium obvious to the beauty that surrounds you. You'll walk about searching after pink although the skies are already orange. It will have you seeking perfection as anything else will not do. It will have you saying yes to people when you should be saying no. It will have you people-pleasing to the point of absence of one's own self. It will have you carrying the weight of the world as a soloist unsure of where to put the burdens. It will have you suffering anxiety as the genius soul you see doesn’t align with the body and mind. It will have you defeated before the first sunray shows its face. It will have you self-destructing as the hours tick by.
Fuck. I think I am using some of the same metaphors throughout. Oh no! Am I a storyteller or am I merely a broken record? Oh no! The syndrome is creeping again! Oh no! I am now doubting this piece of writing! Oh no! I got to take my socks off and walk in some grass again before it's too late! Oh no! The syndrome is knocking at my mind's door and he has his own key!! Fuck. I better end this piece soon before it consumes me…………………quick before I delete all that's above……………………oh fuck!.................he’s found his way in………………….goodbye world…………..I will cease to exist…………..until the little imposter inside my skull finds his way to the light again………………..bear with me………………it shouldn’t take too long (anymore).........I know how to get out of this………..I just need time………….oh please, just give me some time……………………TIME.TIME.TIME.TIME.TIME.TIME………………………..is that enough?...................yes, thank you.