As you arrive here and now,
Settle in,
Turning away from the world and toward your breath.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Welcome to a hit of hope.
And just to let you know,
This one's salty.
Anybody else out there suffer from imposter syndrome?
Others might look at you and marvel at how you have your shit together.
But your mind is constantly churning about how you are one small step away from irrevocably fucking every single thing up.
It's only a matter of time until everybody figures out how messed up we really are.
And what do we do when we are in the throes of imposter syndrome?
Do we cut ourselves some slack or remember all of the ways we are good and functioning adults?
Do we cheer ourselves on?
Um,
No.
We try harder.
We push more.
We strive.
We work.
We work.
We work.
All while muttering to ourselves.
Damn poser.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The struggle,
It seems to me,
Has to do with authenticity.
We want to be our authentic selves,
Our real selves.
Because if we're real,
Then we can't be posers,
Right?
It's what so many of us want.
To be who we are and to feel no shame.
To lean into our real selves.
To celebrate them.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Real means actual existence.
It is substantial,
Not imaginary.
Our lives,
Online and at work,
Can feel imaginary,
Right?
We make sure to put our best face forward.
It's a smart thing to do.
We all want to feel good about the selves we present to the world.
Inhale.
Exhale.
But we know this can come with a cost,
A toll.
If who we are feels vastly different than the self we present to the world,
It can feel as if we are continually tearing chunks out of our tender selves.
Take a deep breath in.
Let it all go.
We have a choice.
We really do.
It's not an easy one,
But we have a choice.
What if we choose to honor our real and actual existence?
Our absolute and necessary existence of these astounding and weird bodies,
Minds,
And spirits of ours?
What if we start from a place of goodness,
Of belovedness?
There is nothing to fix because there is nothing wrong.
There is no sense of being an imposter.
There is only this real and luminous being at our center that is ours and ours alone.
I'm serious.
Why not start from a place of goodness?
You are real.
You are luminous.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Why is that so damn difficult to believe?
Why is it so much easier to imagine our insides are like an amateur comedy hour?
There we are in a smoky bar up on the stage with a spotlight blinding our eyes.
We're doing our best with our bit,
Offering up our words,
Hoping somebody,
Anybody responds.
And that's right when the heckler starts up.
Sit down and shut up,
The voice might say.
Or,
Oh my God,
You are so bad at this.
The heckler knows just where to hurt us.
Those soft spots,
The tender ones,
The places where we are sure we don't measure up.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Do not give the heckler the microphone.
Do not let the heckler push you off stage.
The heckler is just one voice.
Focus on the others,
The ones who are there to support you,
The ones who look at you kindly,
The ones who are on your side,
Cheering you on.
Make the choice.
Mute the heckler and let go of worrying about being an imposter or falling short.
Make the choice to be yourself,
Your real self,
The one that is luminous and strange,
Complicated and rare.
If you do that,
You can never,
Ever fail.
You will only shine and live light.
