Impostor syndrome
Dealing with the voice of doubt
Last night around seven o’clock, the sky opened up and the rain poured down, so hard that for a few moments it looked like it was falling in waves around our house.
Our weather is like that where I live in Georgia. For weeks, a blanket of heat has hovered over us; only when it rains do we get a reprieve.
When it’s like that, at least here, the last thing I want to do is go for a run — outside, anyway. I can always hop on my treadmill (and I do), but even once I’m done the heat is still outside the door, waiting.
Of course what that means is that for the past few weeks, my running has slowed from three to four times a week, to two to three times a week, to maybe just two… to one… to none.
And when I do that, it’s hard to get started again. I feel like… maybe I can’t do this? I start to feel a little like an impostor, like my legs — which, a few times, have carried me for twenty-six miles straight — would have a hard time running more than one or two.
Earlier today, I was talking with a friend of mine about this. He told me he’s always felt a bit of impostor syndrome all his life; that no matter what he’s tried or how often he’s been successful at any particular thing — learning to surf, to play golf, to lead a team at work, etc. — he still hears a voice telling him he’s just not good enough.
He thought that as he got older, the voice would recede into the background of his thoughts, that its strength would fade. But no, it’s still there, he told me. Even now, decades into the first time he ever heard it. It’s never gone away.
Realizing that, he said, he decided to make peace with it. So, every day, he spends some time meditating, giving his impostor syndrome a chance to come out and say whatever it needs.
“I tell it I’ll give you five or ten minutes, whatever you need,” he told me.
“And when those five or ten minutes are up, that’s it for the day. I’m done listening, and if you have anything more to say, you’re just gonna have to wait until tomorrow.”
I’ll mess this up, I’m sure, but I remember reading once about the psychological principle of the shadow self — that there’s a part of ourselves we don’t want to acknowledge, that we deny and try to keep hidden. Our fears, our insecurities, the things we’re afraid of.
Problem is, it takes a lot of our mental energy to keep our shadow selves hidden; and even if we keep them hidden from ourselves, it’s always possible (even likely) that the people around us can see them in ways we can’t.
And so, the only healthy way to deal with the shadow self is to acknowledge it, love it and accept it — even when that’s the last thing we want to do.
(Believe me, I don’t want to do it either! But I’ve lived enough of life to know how hard it is to keep stuffing down the things you don’t want to look at about yourself; you only end up exhausted.)
I think what my friend is getting at is, that voice of doubt and insecurity is something we never get over, we never get past. It’s always there, tapping us on the shoulder when we least expect it. And, making peace with it is the only way to live, I think.
And so, once again, I get started. At the beginning. First one mile, then another, and then another. And soon, I’ll be stringing more than a few miles together… I hope, anyway!
I hope you’ve had a great week so far, and that you’ve gotten some great runs in. As always, keep in touch and let me know how your running/life is going — and, I’m including my 10-mile race training plan for the Atlanta PNC 10-Miler, which I’d love to have you join me for on October 19.
Hope to see you there!
Your friend,
— Terrell