Sick to Bloody Death of Impostor Syndrome?

It was 2018 and I was in hell.

Hell in this case was a networking room filled with 99 other people…who were all competing against me and each other for a places on a prestigious talent scheme.

It’s the stuff a sadistic lunatic’s dreams are made of.

I had been here before — the exact same mixer the previous year. But I failed that time. I didn’t make it onto the scheme. I was also at least 20 years older than 98 of those people. So here I was, still the socially awkward previous reject trying yet again to get people to understand that I deserved this scheme.

To do that, I had to actually talk to people in this room. GAHHHH. What I secretly wanted to do was to grab all the cheese-based snacks, set the place on fire and run screaming to the Tube. But my morals and my very slippery, size-too-big high heels wouldn’t let me.

One of the organisers took pity on me and kindly (kindly??!?) dropped me smack dab in the middle of a newly-formed Big Bad Group of about 7 or 8 total strangers.

Up to that point my biggest fear was falling down in front of everyone before the mixer was over. I’m a faller. Once, dressed as Robert Smith from the Cure, I fell walking UP THE STAIRS onto a stage at my college in front of over hundreds of people. I also fell OVER A HORSE in front of about 3,000 people at a ring in Tennessee.

(It was totally the horse’s fault for being so tall).

Back to the night. The fear of falling shifted pretty fucking rapidly once people — get this - had the audacity to actually introduce themselves to the group.

As they gripped their plastic cups of room temperature Pino, one by one they shared who they were and all the cool and amazing stuff they had done (so rude).

Oh god, it gets worse

That’s when the sweating started. The drippy fast kind where you feel the first drop go down your spine before you realise you’re in Big Trouble.

It was a nightmare. BOOM, one’s produced features. BOOM, another’s got multiple BAFTA nominations. BOOM, another one’s working with an American channel. BOOM, one’s written over 40 episodes of prime-time tv.

My brain was screaming that I had nothing to say, and was gonna get found out, and fail like last year, and curl up and live a hermit’s life on some cliff taking care of weird space cows that give green milk like Luke Skywalker did because clearly I had no business being a tv writer hanging out with all these industry people.

My brain shrieked at me. What the actual fuck are you doing here? You are so old you were alive when Jaws came out. You were alive when Elvis died. You pre-date dirt. AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE COMPARED TO THESE KIDS?!?

I mentally fought back. I’ve done…stuff!

Impostor Syndrome crossed its arms and pursed its lips. Such as?

*draws a blank*

BOOM, one’s acting on prime time, BOOM one’s shortlisted for the Rising Star Award.

Oh god oh god, it’s almost my turn run run I need to pee I don’t belong here hey that open window’s actually pretty close and we’re about — what — 6 floors up?

And then — it was my turn.

Dun dun DUNNNN.

I felt so much pressure, because best case scenario they would point and heartily cackle at me, and worst case scenario they would ring up the Society of Total Fucking Losers and demand “Come get your girl NOW.”

At this point my soul left my body and I watched myself from above, trying desperately to remember the things, any things, that would sound impressive. I rattled off a pathetic verbal see me love me love me pleeeeeze.

And then I stopped.

And then my mouth did something so fast there was no decision-making process involved because I WOULD HAVE NEVER CONSCIOUSLY DONE THIS.

I said to everyone around this circle, “Am I the only one who feels like they’re standing here and secretly thinking what the hell am I doing I haven’t got a chance and what have I done with my life?”

Everyone. Froze.

But then…something wonderful happened. They burst out laughing. In a good way.

They nodded. And they agreed! THEY AGREED! They admitted they all felt just as crappy and scared.

No shit, it was surreal — straight out of a movie. Or one of those awkward social situation role play videos they make you watch at school.

Who knew people to be so vulnerable together? Especially in this competitive situation?

I learned a valuable lesson that day- room temperature Pinot is clearly truth serum.

Okay, I learned two lessons. Room temperature Pinot is clearly truth serum, and we make these assumptions about other people as if they’re cooler and better and couldn’t possibly understand what we’re feeling. So we feel alone and shit.

The takeaways

“Never, ever, ever, write off anything you’ve achieved as merely being lucky. You are not lucky: you are hard-working and capable. Don’t ever question it.” — Charlene Walters

What’s supremely ironic about that attack of Impostor Syndrome was that I did belong. I was literally in the room. I was invited there because of who I was and what I had accomplished.

Why didn’t my brain simply counter with that when THE FEAR started?

It’s so weird that it often gets us when we’re doing the very thing Impostor Syndrome says we can’t do.

That’s why it’s important to talk about it.

How many things in life would be so much easier if we were all honest and open with each other about the stuff we’re scared to reveal about ourselves?

Impostor Syndrome is one of those things that invades our minds. We all feel it. A LOT. When we fail, when we succeed, when we’re under pressure, once we give ourselves 5 fucking minutes to mentally relax. BOOM. There it is!

Now there are a million articles on Medium about how to combat it, so I’m not going to say the same thing lots of awesome writers have already said.

But what I will say is this- people don’t tell you about Impostor Syndrome because we don’t open our mouths and ask them about it.

That’s basically it.

If we weren’t so chickenshit, we’d know we aren’t alone, that this is a common experience, and that chances are it’s just our brain playing games with us.

Now don’t get me wrong — sometimes we have reasons to be chickenshit. We’ve all been vulnerable in the past and had it thrown in our faces. People have used it against us. It’s why we’re too scared to speak up sometimes.

Past rejections, current rejections, future rejections- they keep us quiet and make us feel isolated.

Here’s the thing. Imagine for a second that the worst happens. You find yourself in a Big Bad Group, or a one-on-one situation and you get brave and mention Impostor Syndrome. And then — they look at you with contempt, or sneers, or they laugh at you.

Then guess what- they’re not your people. And thank god you’ve learned it now and fast before investing any time in someone who for whatever reason is unable to tell the truth back.

Be vulnerable. When you’re suffering with Impostor Syndrome, ask other people how they deal with it. Call out the elephant in the room.

Impostor Syndrome is literally us thinking we’re the only ones that feel this way. Talk to other people about it, it’s impossible to still think you’re the only one.

Don’t let the anxiety of getting caught out gut you, saturate you, make you freak out.

99% of the time, people will share their stories and give you advice. It’s a great way to bond and learn about someone. And it helps you re-focus so you can give yourself some credit for who you are and what you’ve accomplished.

Long story short, it’s fab to know others suffer from the same mental torture! Hooray!