I’m ready to share a dark secret I’ve been keeping under wraps.
When I’m not confident about doing something new in front of other people, I hide. I want to be invisible. I don’t want people to watch me . . . screw up.
I’m embarrassed and ashamed even though I haven’t done anything wrong.
Can I get an amen? Anyone else feel the sting of insecurity and self-doubt?
Impostor Syndrome is real. I know I’m typical . . . those with IS usually suffer in silence, unwilling to tell others about their fraud-like feelings. I mean, when you have IS why would you tell others about it??
Behind the one-way mirror
The room feels realllyyy small with six fresh therapists and one seasoned supervisor. (And at 25, my 35 year old supervisor seemed seasoned. Lol, yep.)
My breathing is high in my chest and my pulse is racing up a storm.
The seasoned lady says, Who wants to step in the room?
I loved wearing my blue and white high-top shoes. (They were the "it" athletic shoes in the 80’s . . . just like The Limited sweaters.)
We each got a pair as being a part of our high school basketball team. They made me feel like I could jump higher, run faster.
My parents would sit in the same place on the bleachers at every game. My dad’s favorite part?
His smile was the brightest when they called my name and I ran into the game.
I just want one of my kids to write a book. What do ya think? What could you write about? Somehow, years later, he picked me out of the sibling litter to be the one.
To me, it felt pretty much the same…my name on the back of a jersey and on the back of a book.
Eleven years and five books later, I know the idea would’t have stayed on my mind if my dad hadn’t asked me—again. And again. And again x10 to write a book. So, thanks dad!