Earlier today I found myself sitting on my bathroom floor, hair slick with wet dye, surrounded by cleaning supplies, cursing myself for leaving my glass of wine up on the counter where I am too short to reach.
How does a person wind up on the bathroom floor at 3 PM on a weekday, drinking, cleaning, and, dyeing.
Social Anxiety/Imposter Syndrome.
Imposter Syndrome is a really fun thing where you completely actually believe that you’re an ogre who’s bamboozled anyone who mildly appreciates you into liking you by feats of trickery. This probably started with moving a lot when I was little and fabricating an insane back story to make friends faster. Like, my-fat-tabby-was-a-white-tiger fabricated.
Even googling “Imposter Syndrome” brings up weird anxieties because it’s mostly documented in high achieving people and you wonder if you say that you are dealing with it, will people be all “OMG Becky, look at that ego? Who does that blue collar biotch think she is!”. ( I AM a former achiever, current flameout.) Being around people for too long makes me feel like they’re going to wise up to my ogre-hood. I shop WAY TOO MUCH because it’s like costumes for lifelike mini-scenes and if I’m not dressed just perfectly for the scene everyone will know I really snuck over from the set of Shrek 16: Lady Ogre is Delusional.
This caused me to end up on the bathroom floor in the following way: I stayed home from work with self loathing today. Trying to trick you into thinking I’m cool for the second post in a row was totally freaking me out, and I haven’t been able to sleep during the night OR day, and am having headaches, nosebleeds, and heartburn while grinding my teeth to nubs. I binge watched some Netflix to chill, but kept thinking “I haven’t cleaned the bathroom in a while, can’t figure out how to draw my cat Otto and I need to post NOW or no one will ever read my blog again, speaking of which the cat food is still in the bag and not in the decorative container so that’s 2 ways I’m a failure as a housekeeper, I haven’t shaved the wiry little big toe hairs I get since New Years and soon my husband will notice and be so grossed out he won’t love me anymore, my hair has been really bad lately anyway, AND NETFLIX IS FOR LOSERS WHO HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH THEIR LIVES THAN WATCH MAKING A MURDERER AND THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I SHOULDN’T HAVE STARTED A WEBSITE AGAIN!!!”
I decided the only way out of my shame spiral was canceling the guilt by fixing some of the things I was worried about. I covered up my greys and cleaned the bathroom, sipped some “Girl, you trippin” juice and decided I should just out myself as a loser NOW so I can’t worry about it later, plus that would get me through post number 2. And here we are.
So if you ever start to think I have it sort of together, that’s a lie, this is the real life. I’m a weirdo and I’m way more intimidated by you than you have any reason to be of me.