22. The Mechanics of an Imposter

When life becomes a performance.

Blog Overview: Identity Structures / Vulnerability / Overcompensation

I tend to get overwhelmed in groups and inflate like a balloon, filling all the spaces. Only a small percentage of me is actually there, swirling in displacement. I move fast and get easily distracted, dodging my very own discomfort with the sort of over-confidence that any sensitive being would correctly interpret as vulnerability. Eye contact is too revealing, so I usually end up playing alone even though I’d much rather find a quiet space to settle into the scene.

The world becomes a stage and I am the lead actor.

You can hear it in my tone of voice. It’s quite sharp and definite, determined that my “audience” recognize my intelligence, strength, and remarkable nature. I’ve got something to prove to them. They determine my ratings, whether or not I am a success or a failure. No matter how I feel inside, the audience is more important because they determine my worthiness of love. This validation lives outside of me and I chase it, especially when I feel the weakest. And it all depends on my Act.

God forbid I say something wrong…I’m to be the expert and leader. People are depending on me to be a pillar of happiness. I’ll get the standing ovation, flowers tossed at my feet, if those witnessing my performance enjoy my imposter façade. That’s how it has been for me for most of my life….

In reality, my hands are trembling backstage, waiting for the curtain to open. I toke a joint, bracing myself for the critical glances, the disappointment, and the boos if they see my broken parts, my Heart’s sadness, my smallness.

The story I create is that no one will enjoy me if I’m weak. So, I adorn myself in glitter and gold, put on my boss-bitch mask, and pretend to be totally comfortable, overwriting my pain with overconfidence.

This version of me is clumsy and I get into situations where I physically hurt myself. I usually play, dance, and converse with intensity, which actually depletes my already low reserves. To onlookers, I probably seem to be having a blast because I play this role so well. I bee-bop from one exhilarating high to the next, escaping depth, fearful of a critical audience who may expose the truth of my experience…that I am, in fact, weak and/or lost.

When I wear this costume, I’m not at all rested within. I lean outside of myself because it is too uncomfortable and confronting to acknowledge my tender parts, my inner turmoil. And since I’ve worn this costume so frequently, it feels natural and convenient.

This familiar role has received countless accolades throughout my life. I trained myself to push beyond my limits, hold back the tears, and clench my fists, my jaw, my pussy.

Artist Credit: Sara Riches

Toughen up. The world won’t pause on my behalf and I have to do something worthwhile. People have to know that I’m an asset. Pick me, pick me! Put me on the winning team.

I was severely rewarded for my performance, which has led me to believe that it’s safer to pretend that I’m okay…nay, that I’m doing GREAT!

I spiral into this lonely act. My stage is like a crumbling Tower and I foolishly believe it will stand another day.

I’m becoming more familiar with this performance. Most often, I take the stage when:

- Giving unsolicited advice;

- In group settings with surface-level acquaintances;

- I feel ungrounded in group settings with friends;

- I make out that my time is more valuable than another’s;

- Teaching;

- And when all the attention is on me…when I become aware people are listening to me…when I have an audience, even if it’s a loving, trustworthy one.

Even if I am listening to another when they are the “main act”, I become overbearing with my ooohs and ahhs, my oh yess’s. I want the person to know that I understand them, wanting to come across as hearing/seeing/feeling them rather than simply being present and receiving.

The worst is when it shows its face when someone else in my field is vulnerable. I get intense and critical, flipping the script, determining their inherent value based off my own misguided and conditional gauge of worthiness. I make them wrong for not being enlightened! Gosh, to think that this is how I treat myself….

This identity comes over me with rigidity and coldness. I become unwilling to breathe into the Heart and acknowledge my authentic experience. I bypass it with overcompensation, determined to be seen in my radiance, even if it’s all a farse. This “radiance” is entirely different to my authentic radiance.

It’s like the boy who cried wolf…he pretended so much that when he did actually need help, no one believed he did. I’ve feigned and favored blissfulness, wearing my role so convincingly that when I’m actually blissful, it’s less believable.

This loud and insensitive person is a younger me, one I’m peeling back, layer by layer. Ultimately, it’s wildly uncomfortable playing this role. And exhausting.

My Omega (feminine aspect) begs me to be honest. But my Alpha (masculine aspect) is in the driver’s seat, in overdrive, compelling me that I must earn love.

Fortunately, my dear life-partner, Saora Love, has shone light on this identity time and time again to the point of me being able to catch it (or at lease recognize it) before it consumes me. Saora has broken down the mechanics of this imposter syndrome in so many contexts that it has become absolutely unbearable to entertain it anymore. As she knows, I’ve not cleared it fully but I’m so willing to rewire this pattern.

I’m immensely fascinated by the mechanics of identity structures. What drives all of this anyway? What drives me to behave the way I do? What is the force behind it all? How can I consciously give myself over to the force of Spirit and make that the driver of my entire life?

Artist Credits:

Aaron Jasinski

You know, I’m likely wearing all sorts of costumes. There are so many different facades with whom I’ll familiarize myself. I don’t hate them. They are suits of armor. These costumes kept me safe at some time or another. They were my way of living in a harsh, disconnected world. They helped me blend into a society driven by rules established by a hierarchical system whose intentions were to disempower and humiliate humanity by some random system of right and wrong. This system keeps us disconnected, separate, based in consumption, and bound to meaningless productivity.

In fact, I’m in deep gratitude to the Imposter Act. It is a costume that is welcome here.

I do not reject you, Imposter. I see you. I feel you. I love you.

Since I’ve worn this costume so frequently, I’ve gotten to know it intimately. I understand the complex mechanics of why I wear it. But I no longer live in a world where it is unsafe for me to be true to my experience. My fullness is welcome here. Allowing its place allows it to organically alchemize.

I’ll go around the spiral watching the Imposter get more and more subtle. But that is the gift. I’ll continue to learn to be more genuine, wearing my Heart on my sleeve, no matter how vulnerable it feels. Each time around the spiral, I’ll refine and refine and refine.

Until one day I’ll look at my closet full of costumes and decide they no longer fit…

Artist Credits

Here’s to the Blue Supermoon!

16% bigger, 30% brighter….happens only 3% of the time, hence the saying: “Once in a blue moon….”

Love, Riddlez