I'd call it the most valuable yet equitable of all our resources because we all have the same amount of it, whether young or old, rich or poor, relaxed or rushed. And what we do with it is the very foundation of our lives: working, playing, loving, grieving, wondering, searching, building, falling, striving - and sometimes, even living in between these.
One year has passed since I put fingers to keys and captured my thoughts in this space. Instead of apologizing for not keeping current here, as that makes the brash assumption you were waiting, if you might hang tight, ride out this burst of discovery with me.
I recently had a serious diagnosis that explained how I was feeling the latter half of 2015. In order to fully accept it, I need to come out with it.
I have impostor syndrome.
It started in July of 2015 when I left the safe haven of my professional career. After over 15 years in the field of marketing and communications, I made the decision to abandon what was by all means a "good" job and start a self-imposed journey of discovery. While I was proficient at what I did, it wasn't moving, motivating or inspiring me. I felt compelled to do something with more meaning, personally. What was that? I wasn't sure, but I knew the predictability of my current path wouldn't reveal it.
I didn't realize how much value I assigned to my job until I didn't have one. You're familiar with that innocent cocktail party question, right? "So, what do you do?" with the obvious intent to seek out your profession. Previously, the canned answer was easy: "I'm the director of corporate marketing for a healthcare IT company." People would politely ask qualifying questions, and I would go into the details of graphic design, branding, communications. They'd nod and appear to understand before I flipped the question on them, and we'd then move onto something like the weather. It's unspoken and understood etiquette.
After quitting my job, those five words strung together became the most dreaded to me in the history of the English language. The moment I'd feel the question coming on, it was as if someone cut the lights, dark instantly surrounded me and a bright light blinded me in the face as an unknown voice from the shadows would question my most inner value. "Where were you on the night of...?"
I'd blush, embarrassed. I'd stumble for words. My accuser, posing as a friendly fellow party-goer, would wonder what they'd said wrong. I'd cling to the past - "Well, I used to be a corporate marketing director..." and go into the comfortable song-and-dance. If they were really listening, they'd pick up on the past tense and rephrase with "So, what do you do now?" This added present tense to their inquiry. Whew, boy. Words like "freelance" and "consultant" would mindlessly spill out of my mouth, and I'd quickly change the subject.
The truth was, I'd started my own flower and seasonal decor business in October, Fellow Does Flowers. Leading up to that, I could say I was building it; after October, I had full right to say it. Embrace it. Promote it. Why couldn't I? Why was I still so hesitant to claim my own life path, one I had chosen freely?
I had - well, have - impostor syndrome. (While my diagnosis is recent, I'm beginning to understand it is a chronic condition, treatable but perhaps not curable.)
I came across this condition after reading an article from The New York Times, Learning to Deal With the Impostor Syndrome. My jaw became unhinged and nearly dropped to my chest as I read each word. Yep. Yes. YES. How was it that my deepest, darkest, inner-most fear had found the light of day? How could anyone else understand this? And just as surprising, how could exceptionally talented, accomplished and well-recognized leaders of their field suffer from this?
Penned by Carl Richards, the article names, claims and offers the reader to tame this affliction. I found the core of the story to be in his words here:
"Well, we often hesitate to believe that what’s natural, maybe even easy for us, can offer any value to the world. In fact, the very act of being really good at something can lead us to discount its value. But after spending a lot of time fine-tuning our ability, isn’t it sort of the point for our skill to look and feel natural?"
Who was I to say I was a flower and decor designer? I didn't go to school for this. I don't have a degree or certification. Hell, I hadn't even taken a workshop. I had picked up a few shifts at some local flower shops, and I always had an affinity for flowers and decorating, but who was I to think I could prosper - or even profit - from such a career? Through this article, I discovered I was like many others: unable or unwilling to assign value to myself and my abilities.
There it is. Out there for anyone to see. Moving forward, my focus is to understand why I feel this way. Sure, an innate sense of humility may drive a portion of this, but as I feel doubt creeping in, I want to accept it as an element of my person. It's a reflex, reaction or instinct like any other. Then, I can learn how to operate in its presence. I can see it as a roadblock or an opportunity to challenge myself.
Easier said than done. The next time to you see me, I'm not saying I have my elevator pitch perfected yet. When asked what I do, I might still blush or stumble. But, what's different is that with this awareness comes choice.
This year, I choose to believe in what comes naturally to me, commit to it and take a balanced approach to humility instead of hiding behind it.
If you haven't already, do right by yourself this year. Don't just believe in what you do - believe in what you CAN do.
And then, the next time I see you at that party, we can practice with each other. Deal?
