Imposter Syndrome - A Review
A huge thank you to Jay and Jessica for writing blogs while I was away. Feel free to go back and read their blogs if you missed them, because wow! They blew me out of the water. Guess I have to step up my game if I’m going to keep stuff like that on this website.
When I’m wrapping up the route I run everyday, I take a sharp right turn that takes me to a relatively steep hill. Generally, I maintain a steady pace throughout the run, stopping to take pictures of the sunset, a random roadside object, or a particularly cool looking lizard. But for whatever reason, I told myself to sprint all the way home (please note this is about a quarter of a mile). So I did it.
I opened up my stride and picked up the pace while the momentum carried me downhill. By the time the ground leveled out, I was practically leaping. My cadence was less like an elevated heart rate and more like a Jack Johnson baseline. I felt weightless; I felt fast; but most importantly I felt good. The two people on the sidewalk probably knew from my goofy grin, and I think they appreciated my half audible “excuse” when I galloped past them.
When I hit the steps in front of my house, my abs were stinging, my quads burning, and my eyes were forced shut with sweat. But I was still smiling.
Back in Highschool, I ran Cross Country. Well, maybe I should say I jogged Cross Country. I wasn’t fast by any means, I was more of a motivator, I even was once called the team counselor. But I was pretty famous (or infamous) for one thing: The Sorensen Kick.
The Sorensen Kick was developed on accident. It was one-part feeling sorry for myself and one-part adrenaline. See, I was so slow that in my freshman year (this is track not Cross Country) during the 2-mile, I was the only one on the track and I had a full lap left. I felt exhausted, but I was also feeling anxious. Literally everyone was watching me. That’s not me being overly dramatic. I was the only thing to watch.
When I got to the final straight away a lot of people started to clap. It made me feel so much worse. I was so embarrassed and wanting to get out of the situation that I ran faster just to get done sooner. I was already exhausted. But that killed me. I threw up a few times shortly after. Which cemented to my coach and my fellow freshmen that this “sprint” was more of a miracle than a “he conserved too much energy.”
The fastest freshman at the time was very encouraging and dubbed it “The Sorensen Finish,” which later became “The Sorensen Kick.” After a few meets, I managed to recreate The Sorensen Kick in order to finish ahead of a couple other slow Freshmen in the mile. At that point I realized the basic formula to make it happen without the anxiety this time. So, I started ending all my runs, even the workouts, with a huge final kick. I’d make it a game if I was running with anyone else to outsprint each other (I usually lost).
Pretty soon, ending a race with an impossible sprint became my namesake, people from other schools even knew it. I always considered it “leaving everything on the track,” which would then be made fun of because I’d often leave whatever I ate for lunch on the track too.
It didn’t take long, however, for me (and some rude dudes) to convince myself that this whole idea was basically a joke. That I was just saving some extra energy for the final stretch and that everyone knew it too. I convinced myself that I was a fake. An imposter.
Imposter syndrome isn’t something you have, but something you experience. I’ve experienced it quite a bit. Before deciding to write a blog about this, I had imposter syndrome about whether or not I’ve had imposter syndrome. It’s all a mess.
I think, based on no scientific evidence, that imposter syndrome is heavily tied to anxiety and self-confidence. To explain what it is, if you’re unaware, it’s essentially where you declare yourself a fraud. Proclaiming any skill people perceive in you as essentially dumb luck, or simply a way that you cheated.
I’ve experienced it the most with my writing. I’ve often thought that praise was just given out to me in order to make me feel better about myself. But I learned to be more trustworthy lately, and quite frankly no stranger really talks to me about the quality of my writing anymore. But recently, I’ve found myself experiencing imposter syndrome in more personal things.
The main issue is with friends. Sometimes I convince myself that their feelings aren’t genuine, that they’re just there because it’s easier than ending the relationship. I have even found myself doubting the merits of my own feelings for my friends because… I don’t know! And it’s hard, because that puts me off in this little island where the only ways off are to be clingy and needy and ask, “hey you do like me right?” or just sit there and be frustrated with myself or them.
A good friendship is strong enough to overcome this strange self-doubt I have, but sometimes I’m afraid I’ll lose someone if I ask or if I continue to be distant out of fear I’m annoying them.
But that just creates a negative feedback loop. Mental health is interesting, to say the least. Especially when it attacks the only things that keep you healthy. If you’ve ever felt like a fraud, I don’t have much advice for you other than: stop. It’s not that easy, obviously. But, quite frankly, it’s the only thing you can do. It might be better to share this essay with anyone that this affects or to simply write your own version and send it to them, so they might come to understand where you’re coming from.
I don’t think imposter syndrome is rare by any means. Most of the people I’ve been close to have expressed the same doubts I have, but for different mediums. I do my best to assert that they’re simply kidding themselves. That they really are that special. They are that good at what they do.
But here I am, doubting myself, even after I’ve diagnosed the whole thing.
It makes me wonder if we can ever truly become experts in ourselves. Especially as much as someone else can. I don’t know who knows me better, me or my best friend. I know what I like, sure, but I don’t know what I’m like. I don’t often see what anyone sees in me, and my friends often don’t seem to see what I see in them.
Do yourself and the ones around you a favor, compliment them. Remind them what they’re good at. Affirm that they’re great in every way you truly believe, and maybe they might come to see themselves through your eyes. And then they might help you do the same.
Thanks for reading!
