Dear Imposter Syndrome,
Recently, you were an unwanted guest in my life. You showed up in my living room, seemingly out of nowhere, and took up residence.
As is your way, you diminished all external proof of my accomplishments to virtually nothing.
You were so loud in my head that compassion, empathy, and reality-checking fell on deaf ears.
Moments of doubt are completely expected, but you demanded more of me that I was prepared for.
I felt powerless to resist you, and after awhile, I gave up trying.
You destroyed my weekend, and I want to continue to blame you, but I can’t.
When you showed up, right away I recognized thoughts of “I’m not good enough” and “I’m not doing enough.”
I could have turned you away, but I didn’t.
Against my better judgment, I permitted you to invade my home, my mind.
I let you stay because, in that moment, despite what I know to be true, I accepted your lies.
You hit me where I am weak, and I wasn’t strong enough to resist.
There’s no one reason why you demand space in my life, which makes it all the more difficult to create safeguards to prevent you from gaining so much power in my life.
If you had your way, you would keep me from spreading positive messages in this world and sharing stories of failure, loss, rising again, and being better for it.
That’s exactly I’m writing this break-up letter to you and posting it for the world to see. Because when we speak out against the negative things in our lives, they lose some of their power.
But really, Imposter Syndrome, you aren’t all bad because even though I was weak in the moment, I am stronger now for enduring your hits.
I’ve fallen down, risen again, and am better for it.
You helped me see the perfectionist within me.
You helped me see that I set unrealistic expectations for myself.
You helped me see that when I let you in, I’m robbing myself of joy.
You helped me see that when I make space for you, I am taking time away from self-care and actually working toward my goals.
For those things, I thank you because I am now more aware that I need to guard against your toxic effects.
Because, despite the things you’ve taught me, I never want to see you again.
I’m done. This is it.
I know you’ll come crawling back. You’ll pull your usual tricks, and I might even fall for them.
But I can promise you that we’ll never last, because each time you come knocking at my door, I get stronger. I fight harder.
So bring it on.
I’m ready for you.