Dr. Imposter

In the next few weeks, I will be changing my name. Not because I will be getting married, but because I will have earned the accolades to become Dr. Morgan Laine Lehman. I have worked hard in the past few years, especially months, to earn my degree and move on to the next stage of my life.

Still, there is part of me that doesn’t feel good enough. I have learned in the last few weeks this is called Imposter Syndrome. Basically, those who are overachievers, never feel like what they are doing is good enough. You feel like fraud.  I feel like a fraud. I am not and will never be good enough. Upon some research, I found several articles and took several classes about it because I have been struggling with it lately. Here is a great op-ed article about it: https://www.fastcompany.com/40421352/the-five-types-of-impostor-syndrome-and-how-to-beat-them

What am I earning this degree for? Will this degree impact the world, people? Will it make my life better? Will it make other’s lives better? Will it help me fulfill my goals? The questions bombard my mind and heart each and every day. It’s annoying and overwhelming. There’s no way to quiet the questions. Everyone says the struggle is worth it, but right now, it doesn’t feel like it. If I wasn’t so close to the end, I would just walk away from it. Even that’s not who I am. I finish what I start.

I have never struggled with confidence, or knowing who I am, but this feeling is real. I hate myself for and because of it. And it’s multi-faceted. It impacts every part of who I am. I’ll begin with my intelligence. This is something I have always known about myself, and I have an IQ test to prove it. I like learning, and I am good at it. However, the second I turned my final dissertation in, I thought of all the things I did wrong. All the things that could be better about it. Did I include everything I needed to? Was my reference page correct? Needless to say, I didn’t sleep that night.  With each day that passes, the Imposter Syndrome creeps in a little more. Are they not approving my paper because it’s not written well enough? What did I do wrong? My Chair keeps telling me “it’s fine,” “it’s good,” but that is not reassuring.

Because of the lack of response, I have emailed my Chair and Second a few times—those are the people approving my dissertation. I was talking to my cohort the other day, and she told me she felt I was selfish, inconsiderate, and pushy. Earlier in the week, I was told I was aggressive. Words that all have negative connotations. For me, a lover of words, the meaning of words impact me greatly. These words brought up those feelings of “not-good-enough” again.  They hit me hard. I am not trying to be any of those things; I am trying not ensure my educational needs. But, maybe I was being pushy and inconsiderate and aggressive. Maybe I am pushy. Maybe…maybe…maybe.  After all, no response is a response, right? It means that you are no important enough for someone’s time or energy. (That’s the way I feel when people don’t respond to me.). Then, I felt angry—angry at her, angry at my Committee, angry at myself. I am not an angry person (I joke I am feisty, but I have been told I am not), so then I felt guilty for feeling angry. I felt like a bad person for being impatient and angry.  Those feelings made me feel horrible about myself, so I retreated. If I am really those things, I would be them by myself, where I could impact no one’s life. I told my Dad I felt if I were to die on my bedroom floor, no one would notice. No one would miss me. (After all, she did tell me I was going to die from a heart attack from the stress I was inducing on myself. I don’t feel stressed, though. I think it’s respect to complete things by deadlines. If I have to follow a deadline, so should they. I am not asking of them, I wouldn’t expect of myself). I don’t’ impact anyone’s life that much. No one would notice I was gone. He just stared at me blankly—I am pretty sure he didn’t know what to say. I have said this to my parents several times. If I was gone from their lives, they wouldn’t notice. Some of that’s on me. I don’t need them. I solve my crises myself. I am independent, and I don’t want to depend on people or ask for help. I know I need to let some of this go because asking for help is not weakness. In my heart, I know people, especially my parents, would notice if I was gone.

I want to make peoples’ lives better. I feel that is my mission in life. I always feel I am not doing enough to truly fulfill that mission. I see how other people are helping out in the world, and I feel like there is more I could do. I struggle with people, and I am far from perfect. My dissertation is my way of using my talents to impact the lives of people. But, the waiting has taught me I am not good at waiting, and I don’t feel like my dissertation will do what I want it to do. After all, who is really going to read it, outside of my Committee? it’s 187 pages on a topic most people don’t feel is important in our society. I love sports. I love college. My topic is a perfect pairing for me. Somewhere in this struggle, I wished I hated sports because they don’t really affect life. They’re really not important in the grand scheme of things. The fact I enjoy them is the reason I need them. They are a source of entertainment and enjoyment for me. I have built friendships and other relationships because of those activities. Are they frivolous? Is the anxiety they bring me necessary? Probably not, but I still love them. I will always love them.

I was looking at pictures of myself the other day. Looking to see where I was and where I am now. Some pictures of my sisters and I were in the mix. We are all beautiful, but we are all beautiful in different ways. The feelings of not being beautiful arose. When you are raised in a family of beautiful people, it always feels like a competition—not necessarily from my sisters or my parents. Hannah was always the model. Kayla was the exotic beauty. Sam was the girl people wanted to talk to. I was the smart one. People label you, and as much as you try to not live by those labels, you adhere to them in the someway. No one noticed me when my sisters were around. I was _______________ sister. I have said this in a blog before, but men don’t look at me twice. The lack of attention makes you wonder will you ever find someone. Will you ever be loved? I admit, I feel unlovable a lot, which may contribute to my prickliness. Again, some of that’s on me. I have built walls to protect myself, and I don’t easily let people in my life.

After all that, then there’s the feelings of inadequacy for what I am about to embark on. I feel unworthy of the title of Dr., even though I have earned it. But it felt easy, except the waiting. Is that what others experience? Does that mean I didn’t work hard enough for it? Then I have the thoughts: what will I do for a career? I’d love to motivate other people on their dissertation journey? Could I do it? What do I have to offer that’s different? Would people listen to me? I could use my writing talent and editing skills to help people, but that market is saturated. What if my dream of being a professor never comes true? What if I am bad at it? What if I can’t teach people what I know? All the what ifs creep in.

Last night, I had a long talk with God. Well, mostly a long cry. I hate admitting this to people. I feel weak telling people I cry. I told him I was tired of waiting. I feel I am waiting on everything….and I didn’t care about His plans, even if they were better than mine. I was ready to move forward. Living with faith and hope all the time can be exhausting. Telling myself every day “Things will work out how they are supposed to,” feels like I am lying to myself and everyone else. Last night was very open, honest, and vulnerable for me. Ultimately, I know I need I to plaster on the smile and go forth with that tiring faith and hope each day. But, it’s so damn hard some days. The timing doesn’t feel right. The plan feels like I am doing something wrong, even though I feel I am doing everything right. I could never explain to anyone how it feels, so it leaves a feeling of loneliness and isolation.  There is a Country song by Hunter Hayes that describes somewhat how I feel. It’s called, “Dear God.” Here is a link to the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwD-OXtiG1k

Then there’s the lifelong expectation of living up to my Grandma Teri’s name. Would she be proud of me? What does she think about all I am doing? I miss her, and I can’t even talk to her. Being names after someone is cool and significant, but it also carries the burden of will I live up to their name? Will I carry on that name well? Can I make the name better than when I got it? It’s a load I am not ashamed of, but I don’t feel I carry well. Especially when people tell me I am like her.

The biggest one of all: IS IT ALL WORTH IT?

All the questions, doubts, and fears with no real answers. That’s the worst part. My logical brain needs answers. If there is a problem, I like to figure out a solution. And all this emotion doesn’t have a solution, and if it does, it’s not an easy one. But, I will make it through; I always do. I will get my Moe-jo back, and I will conquer these ugly feelings. I am not Dr. Imposter!

Today I wrote a poem about my Imposter Syndrome:

My Lie

Written 11/14/19

Why do I lie?

Pretend like it’s all alright?

When someone is mean,

I run away,

hide in tears.

People assume I’m fine;

I’m always alright

because I do my best

to hide the hurt

behind my smile.

I look good in the dress,

buttoned up in my feelings,

putting my best foot forward

Sometimes, I feel I play a part,

so no one can see the hurt, scars

I feel like I am lying—

on my own, the tears flow.

I was taught to be tough,

“you’ll be strong,”

hide it inside.

The world won’t crash

if I lose my composure,

let people in on my lie.

To Hell with it all—

I don’t have to shine

all the time

to be seen, heard.

The truth revealed:

even I cry.